by ALICE AND YANKA

There's a Portuguese eatery in the core of the Plateau Mont-Royal called Triangulo, and how we managed to overlook it all these years is beyond us. Is this hâvre de béatitude purposefully inconspicuous so as to defend itself from the supercilious trendsetters? This we ponder as we saunter in, but we're quickly sidetracked; such is our excitement that poor ol' Yanko can no longer contain herself: "I can hear my pee, I have to go now!" And off she vanishes, soon returning with tales of overcrowded tables and men of all shapes and sizes playing cards under a neon sun in the back. Alice, too, suddenly blossoms, her previously bloodshot eyes recovering their youthful twinkle.

In no time at all, our table undergoes quite a transformation, from good-old-bar-table to a chic setting for two: "A pour effort, ÿa c'est sûr, hein Yank?!" This is mainly because a white tablecloth has just been vented over our table. We do not recoil in horror, as we are now set apart from the crowd of stagers eating at the bar. Hell no! The ladies within us, buried deep beneath foul shells, actually surface long enough to enjoy the spoiling. We go on to order: "The menu is Rib Steak and Pork? We'll take both, sir." The waiter politely gives his rebuke: "I don't speak English" Ah! Mais alors, savez-vous que cet espace entre vos dents s'appelle un diastème? Oui, oui, c'est la vérité, m'sieur, ne soyez pas timide et souriez avec allégresse et abandon, allez!

And along come breadbasket and olives. Olives, tiny, tiny olives, each one slightly different from the next, exploding under one's fang like the lottery - sometimes tasting like a $5,000 cheque in the mail, sometimes like being chased by a boar on the highway. The bread buns are sparkly white, fluffy and nausea absorbing, like baked cocaine. The perfect dippers. Before long, our waiter is by our side again, bearing yet another surprise: les croquettes de morue. "Mangez, c'est bon," he says. "Je reviens avec du vino tinto." Oui, they are bueno, mais doivent-ils être si tièdes, amore?!

At the far end of the huge bar, the grill is unremitting. All we make out, really, is a little white paper boat sailing along the séparateur, neatly secured atop our Chef's head. And sometimes, if we watch for it, we can catch a full glimpse of the man himself, all clad in immaculate white. He carries on conversations with everybody, tools in hand, one eye always on the manly meats sizzling under his command. Wow! And we know right then and there: Chef, I love you.

With fries on the side, our plates overflow. Tender Pink Pork is dressed up in his best garlic, herbs and spices. NIAM! Rib Steak is an Abitibi-sized chunk of meat, a gargantuesque maze of medium, rare and raw. It is juicy. It is luscious. It is just what we need: a slab of spankin' magic. We're inspired. We speak of our venerable government, of its exemplary prison system, of our devotion to tax-paying, and of our high esteem for Hydro-Québec. We also drink a slug to President Bush, and plan a trip to Guantanamo Bay to check out the country-music scene over there. Must be that vino tinto holding sway over us, think we, as such conversations we normally carry out over a bottle of Hennessy XO, surrounded by our favourite kind: freaks who save money like heroes and brag about it.

L'atmosphère at Triangulo is unmatched, even (especially?) if the décor is more like your uncle's garage. There are good-looking fellas, old and young, eating at the bar, watching educational TV en portugais. We stare at them, but they don't care for us. We love them even more. At times, the crowd of regulars lets loose. Tirades and choruses of yells and screams erupt. We spy, eager, curious, wanting in. A heavily moustached man, upon noticing us, shushes his compadres: "Shut up, there are people here!" Triangulo, marry us.

Triangulo
ADDRESS: 20 Duluth E.
PHONE: 849-5571
HOURS: 7:30AM–3AM daily
BEST FEATURES: Everyone there
ALCOHOL: Yes
WHEELCHAIR ACCESS: Too many stairs
VEGETARIAN FRIENDLY: Nah
CARDS: Interac
SMOKING SECTION: Of course! Triangulo is freedom
PRICE: $24.50 for two meat-packing meals
and 1/2 litre of vino tinto
RATING: A/A+