by ALICE AND YANKA

[Please note: English is not Alice and Yanka's mother tongue]

As we go way back together, Yanka and I have been searching for l'Homme des Tavernes for what seems like a lifetime. Not long ago, we went back to one of our favourite haunts besides the swamps to have a fiesta, boire d'la bière and maybe get something to eat with the almighty and un peu défraichi Inspecteur Epingle.

It's been awhile and the first thing Yanka screams upon entering the insanely lively place is, "Pitcher: $6, yeaaaah!" And so the soirée begins, va z'y dru, man! It's Friday and there's a big birthday party so there's des Femmes des Tavernes as well, which is cool, because à la taverne, it doesn't matter whether you have cleavage or no teeth at all, everybody's usually nice and friendly, surtout Denis mais yé pas là le vendredi.

Ici there's a lot of windows, a standing-only bar, a pool table, comfy seats, roomy tables and, yes, a Molson Export clock, always a sure sign that you're in a place where they don't have $7.95 fake-feta-cheese-and-olives appetizers (you know who you are, maudits nonos!).

The food is very limited because there's no kitchen, only a microwave that probably dates from the mid-'30s and doesn't seem to work at all (just like the TV, which is always off - HOURRAH!). The rack-à-chips is plentiful and there's more in there than the usual boring choice of Doritos or plain so that's cool and it's only $1 a bag. The five-star popcorn is free and it pops in a nice machine to all the drunks' delight!

"Je r'viens avec la langue," says the waiter as we order the one and only mighty Pig Tongue (they're out of Pickled Eggs). Mais attention, ça fesse dans l'dash!. For $1.50 you will get one appendage that looks like the dirty tongue of a politician, one that seems to have been soaked in vinegar for at least 500 days, maybe years. The Yank, feeling like she's the Captain Révolté of the boat, goes for the gold and has it alone while I have to sandwich it between the God-sent crackers. The texture is not velvety or rich, more like Spam®, although there is a liver aftertaste and basically it's like a raz-de-marée de vinaigre in your mouth. It's an excellent prop for pictures though, so do go crazy, and the waiters don't even blink when we ask for a doggy bag.

They're on fire, the waiters. They wear vests, they let you take pictures of them even if it means they'll go blind from the flash and hell, they'll even help Johanne look for her coat for six hours because she's drunk like it's 6:66 p.m.

Best of all, they'll serve everyone loads of cheap and mega-fun beer, c'est la balade des caisses de 24, and there's on tap this and that, Guinness, et surtout, the Queen of the castle, la Quille de 50! Par contre, beware of the wine and no matter what you do, never order a glass of rosé. Just don't, ké?!

One of the bathroom doors doesn't lock and directly faces the bar but that could be fun. Make sure you socialize because there's a lot to be learned here and one day, we plan on earning our Doctora es Tavernes and you should too! :

La Taverne Inspecteur Epingle
Address: 4051 St-Hubert
Phone: 598-7664
Hours: noon–3am daily
Best features: cheap pitchers 'n' tongues
Vegetarian friendly: chips, sometimes pickled eggs
Credit cards: no, cold cash only
Wheelchair access: No
Price: cheap; $8 for cigarettes from old-fashioned machine
Rating: ****