by ALICE AND YANKA

Fuir la maudite Main. Hell, anything to steer clear from the Street Sale and, above all, the DJ at the News Room Café, seriously insufferable with his lousy word games and done-to-death choice in music. So instead, we made a reservation at le Piton de la Fournaise, a spot that serves food from l'île de la Réunion, a distant dot in the Indian Ocean, off the coast of Madagascar.

There we found C., our pill-crazy happy waiter, who presented us menus equipped with historical background and, to our greatest delight, a brief lexicon. We studied Créole and browsed through the facts. Le Piton, said the documentation, is the most active volcano overseas, so we expect nothing less than lava down our throats and into our stomachs. Aye caramba!

"Oh boy, the blue and green décor ain't quite the réussite," bellows Alice. "I don't know who the little black girl is on the painting, but I like the bamboo all over the place, gromomon, oui, chill the Roquefeuille, pas le Roculfeuille, Yanka!"

Time to order from la table d'hôte: salade de chouchou, soupe de cresson, assiette Créole (samoussas, piment bonbon, salade d'achards), demi-avocat crabe, vivaneau poêlé sauce cowbava, civet de zoufitte (pieuvre), gâteau aux patates douces and tarte glacée kiwi-framboise. We also ordered "bonbon la fesse," our new favourite mantra, which we shall scream into phone receivers all over the world next time we drink cheap brandy with the boys d'la taverne. Yeah.

First in line to the guillotine were salad and soup. The chouchou, a member of the squash family, probably the boring uncle, was heaped together on lettuce topped with not enough dressing. Bland as air! Our takes on the watercress soup somewhat conflict. The kitchen went all heavy on the salt, but according to Yanka's Polish bullshit, it was quite acceptable, even tasty. Fine then, have it your way, jungle hair. The demi-avocat crabe, divine for some perhaps, released a definite truck aftertaste in our fiery motor mouths. Stringy in texture, we dubbed it coconut guacamole. The only way out for this one was pairing it with elements from l'assiette Créole, especially la salade d'achards. The rougails were a hit: chutney-style seasonings that made their grand appearance in the tiniest of cups (aubergine, citron, piments). Yep, it's all about the little things in this joint.

Then C. started to madly ramble about les "piments zoiseaux" that grow on l'île so we sent him back to the kitchen for the rest. Eating civet de zoufitte was like eating chunks of octopus drowned in a marmite of typical Québécois gravy. This dish is incomprehensible and comes with 50 pounds of rice and lima beans. Why? No one knows. Vegetables, cooks of the Piton, we need more vegetables!

The colourful vivaneau promised by the waiter turned out to be a white chunk of fish in a creamy cowbava (agrume ressemblant à un mélange de citronelle et gingembre) sauce on a yellow plate. It somewhat reminded Alice of a romantic afternoon in Fort-Chimo, a lazy stroll in the Tundra. Ah, Yanka, there's a hot tomato on your plate, bite it, bite it. Pedal to the metal?! Well, there's parmesan in there, but that's about it. Or is it romano? Try again, criss.

The veggies were interesting but too often we used our plates' contents like play-dough, for the food lacked spunk and rock 'n' roll. Nothing came close to the feeling you get when you stick your finger in the socket, except eating the piment bonbon, a true superstar, but this tiny prodigy came along a little too late. We swallowed the sweets whole, paid the bill and left.

Le Piton de la Fournaise
Address: 835 Duluth E.
Hours: Tues–Sun, 5:30–11PM
Phone: 526-3936
Credit cards: American Express, MasterCard, Interac
Price: $29.99 for table d'hôte, $31.99 if you have octopus
Brownie points: Change of cutlery with every service
Wheelchair access: Yes
Alcohol: BYOB
Vegetarian: Fish, seafood, vegetables
Leitmotif: Fucking fresh, freaking bland!
Rating: **1/2 out of ****