by ALICE AND YANKA

How we'd love to subsist in Russia right now, hidden in some dank pigeonhole, listening to Vladimir Semionnovitch Vissotsky sing about censorship, mosquitoes, adversity, old vipères and braga. Dressed in potato peels, hair tamed with tallow and nine-days-old bile, heads filled with seizures and burnt toast... for sure we could find a crumb of something to get by every day.

Icitte, à Montréal, on a rien trouvé d'ça, sauf l'alcove, le trou, and it's right off the Main pis d'sa populasse de coquerelles coiffées chez Coupe K-10. It's easy to miss from the outside, and do miss it if you enjoy admiring yourself in every porthole available or think it's absolutely normal for Patrick Huard and co. to shamelessly promote Loto-Québec on television, in exchange for an hefty paycheque en plus. Ça suce, sacrament, c'est pas croyable.

Dans un grand hall un peu décrépite, in a building that shelters Danny Textile, Imprimerie & Publicité Chinoise Lee Inc et une gang de chiens crackpot en ostie, Nouri has set up kitchen. Most of the factories that used to flourish here have taken their businesses to China and employees no longer line up to buy lunch. Bad for business, good for us. On n'aime pas les gens, juste les roches recouvertes de p'tite mousse verte.

Anyways, through the cavity in the wall that doubles as eating counter, the whole menagerie is on display: fridge, stove, coffee maker, plates, teapot, oven mitts, deux torchons qui pendouillent, fruits in a bowl, a shelf stacked with Sifflo salt and compadres. It's all grey, dirty green, old white and freezé au néon. Très joli.

Prone to smoking like balls rubbed with hot peppers, we are banished to the sole table in the middle of this nowhere de ciment bétonné. We don't mind one bit parce qu'on peut s'chauffer les fesses sales à même le calorifère, qui est juste à côté. It's our favourite kind of fancy, too, with a carpaccio-thin flowery nappe en plastique, dirty ashtray and unmatched teacups. Et le thé est bouillant. Asphyxia and sixth-degree burn in the middle of the day? Sure, ça ouvre l'appétit, en plus.

The menu is shorter than our whore heels and fits on one single cardboard: breakfasty treats, soup, salad, eight sandwiches, fresh juices, tea, coffee, three desserts. The sandwich Chickpea Shami ($3) is a good old pita, bloated with a yummy chickpea spread, shredded iceberg lettuce, fat slices of pickles and tomatoes. Simple de même. Soup ($3) probably changes everyday, but we don't know 'cause we didn't ask.

The Eggplant and Lentil sandwich ($3) is similar to its colleague but a wee bit duller. Maybe the eggplant just needs a sambal olek kick ou un shot de piment. Salad - lettuce, tomatoes and cucumbers - ($3) is bait to tickle the inner rabbit. It's okay, but since stupid Alice forgot she hasn't eaten a raw tomato in two decades, the bowl remains pitifully almost full, un champ d'bataille de dead tomatoes. Poor Nouri has a sad and justified look of "tsk tsk tsk" as he takes it back to the kitchen. Sorry for this gaspillage éhonté, vraiment.

Except for a few tenants going up and down the stairs and a frustrated woman who bumps against Ungava's closed door and snarls "Ahhh shit, sont fermés le lundi," it's very quiet. We even manage to start our Tabarnak, Patrick Huard letter. Sometimes, Nouri drops his apron and disappears for three half-seconds into the belly of the beast, faque on en profite pour tout casser dans place. We're rewarded with wild cookies ($1 each). He bakes them himself with rose juice, saffron, cinnamon, cloves, chocolate, pistachios, poppy, lemon, miam. The Crème Pouf ($1) looks amazing too but time's running out, on des chats sauvages à fouetter dans l'Grand Nord. Merci Nouri, take care et bonne semaine.

Nouri
MOTTO: Bien nourri chez Nouri
ADDRESS: 10 Pins W.
TEL: Non
CARDS: Say no to credit and bank fees: use cash
HOURS: Mon–Fri 9 a.m.–5 p.m.
PRICES: Cheap. Taxes are included, yé!
SMOKING: At the sole table, in the corridor. Counter is non-smoking.
WHEELCHAIR ACCESS: Steps to access building hall
VEGETARIAN FRIENDLY: Oui
BEST FEATURE: Cookies!!!
ALCOOL: Non
RATING: Trois étoiles honnêtes