by ALICE AND YANKA

This morning the alarm clock joyfully screams Phobos à pleine bouche, but holy hell, we don't know where we are or what we're supposed to do, except dive in the coffee pot. Bon matin, we croak, la gorge pleine de mégots de cigarettes souillées.

Heeeargghh, there's something scrawled in cheap ink all over our face. Looks like, "Why don't you go to that pepperoni-chocolate poutine place or whatever it was that you were talking about? Get take out and eat it in the Videoself chez moi!" Eh? Hmmmm. Must have been a good soirée.

We have no clue. Luckily, nos bourses sont pleines de Polaroids. They're blurry but still, we make out the word "Y'AIL" in the fog. Ça doit être là. It takes us hours to get there but we make it, ravenous as paludal creatures en manque d'hémoglobine.

It's small and ultra clean and empty as our cortexes on this humdrum Tuesday. The lighting's odd, un peu comme à l'Action Disco Club mais sans l'stroboscope. Weirdly enough, we don't mind. Leaving our usual saturnine predisposition on the sidewalk, we sit right in front of the window. We must be ill.

Al, owner and chef, introduces himself. He's Portuguese, with a German rib, curly hair and social skills turned up to 11. He doesn't like to be called Monsieur. Al's a fine man. We can't quite grasp the menu, which is always a big plus, so he brings a good old pitcher of sangria ($10/$18.50) to help.

Bon. There are tapas ("but I make 'em big," says Al) like curry shrimps, cod croquettes, scallops, calamari, etc. A bifana sandwich, a burger, a chicken breast, shell clams & vengoles pasta, more shrimps, more clams, more scallops and mushrooms. The mixed platters are enticing, but we'd have to sell the goat and the truck to afford 'em because we're flat broke, lessivées flat comme les chemises de papa. And we're on duty.

Problem is there's no pepperoni-chocolate anything and everything sounds fucking good. See, the words coriander, garlic & pimentos are ubiquitous. Partout, dans tous les plats. In our most salacious fantasies this does not even happen. Jamais.

So we're about to pack our shit and quit altogether when the words poutine Al-phrodisiak ($17) save the night. The ingredients? Garlic, coriander sauce, shrimps, scallops, mussels, clams, fries, bacon & cheese! Ah! Hope.

Just below is la Poutine Royale ($9) with garlic, parsley, pimentos, bacon, cheese and... meatballs! Al, mon gars, envoie la flotte, meatballs & all, we're ready.

Que dire du Al-phrodisiak?! C'est très joli. At first glance, you'll think you're in St-Malo or Digby but you're not. Anyways, we slowly dig through the load of fresh bébé clams, mussels, shrimps, scallops, squid and more fishy things we can't name, and unearth... cheese! Une plaine abyssale de fromage fondu, littered with bacon. This whole thing rests on thick fries mais unfortunately, when we get to them, they're barely breathing. They're submerged in hot coriander broth. Ça, c'est pas une bonne idée, Al, parce que tes bonnes frites sont soggy. We say lose some juice, mais bon, that's just us.

We turn into lecherous freaks in no time and attack the meatballs. They are robust, friendly and plentiful. They look like tiny ovnis resting atop a big bowl of fries, spicy tomato sauce and an orgy of cheese and bits. It works. Pour finir en beauté, the garlic bread ($3) turns out to be a toasted Portuguese bun coated with a field of garlic (think the Main's entrecôte) and chopped parsley. On veut frencher la ville.

Oh well. Whoever thought these up clearly has a well-stocked pharmacy but it's yummy en criss, homemade and unpretentious so it's all good. Al, encore merci pour les belles gousses et à bientôt!

cheapmotel@hotmail.com

AIL Y'AIL Y'AIL
ADDRESS: 4563 St-Laurent
PHONE: 849-8185
HOURS: Mon–Fri noon–2 p.m.; Mon–Sun 5–11 p.m.
WHEELCHAIRS: Only one step, we think. Tiny bathroom.
BILL: $44 plus tip for two huge, crazy deluxe poutines, sangria, & garlic bread.
VEGETARIAN FRIENDLY: Yes, if you eat fish & friends from the sea.
HOUSE SPECIALTY: Les clams au Vinho Verde!
BOOZE: Some. Pint of Griffon: $4.35. Bottle of Carlsberg: $5. Capirochka: $7. Muscatel: $5
BEST FEATURE: Garlic everywhere.
RATING: 4 clams sur 5!