by ALICE AND YANKA

Once upon some time ago, we walk by chez Colbert. As it's off our beaten track, we swear to pay the place a visit as soon as winter relents. But it doesn't, instead striking upon us callously with one lovely blizzard after another in the dead of lovely March. We decide to swallow this bitter pill and brave God's lacerating wrath all the way to the corner of Jean-Talon and de Normanville hoping for some redemption. Le yâb, it turns out, intercepts our soggy plea and then proceeds to deal us a hand from his special secret deck.

Formerly oblivious to this happy ship, we don't reserve in advance - a faux pas perhaps, but nothing a maitre d' of Pasquale's calibre cannot resolve. We're shown to our table and presented with menus. These we cling on to during our five-hour feast because chez Colbert, menus aren't merely a list of options. Rather, they're a laminated trip, une hystérie historique et culinaire à la syntaxe et grammaire incroyablement débridées - specially on the last page, which graces us with a homespun bio of Colbert himself. We play with the demented poetry: "Hé! Alice! Tu veux toucher mon ‘effroyable violence dans le bien […] avec une probité rude'?!" "Pas l'temps, Yank! ‘C'est le prélude au cadastre général'!"

Un vrai puits sans fond, our litre of Lichette is placed on the table looking like a great tower of glass, magnificent and suggesting imminent good times and irrepressible laughing bouts we can only blame on le yâb. Bruschetta soon ensues with a twist: a make-your-own deal where bread and tomato tartinade are set apart for ultimate dosage-control. We like our appetizer so we finally decide to order, eager to sample the reason behind Colbert's insane turnout. We can't decide: steak de surlonge grillé (viande très tendre)? Bloody Caesar ($6)? Spag Bolognese et boulettes ($8.95)? Veau servi avec pâtes alimentaires? Surf and turf (the most expensive at $24.95)? Pizza svelto ($10.95)? Nope. Yanka picks salade Italienne & aubergine parmigiana with pâtes Arrabiata ($11.95 for both), while Alice, yearning for her childhood, goes for the shrimp cocktail ($8) and pasta Francesca, aka spaghetti, prosciutto, asparagus and roasted peppers.

Alas, most of the food is nothing to write home about: the salad dressing is quite bland, the shrimps are fresh though boring, and, incredibly, garlic is nowhere to be found. However, the dishes are as colossal as Colbert's accomplishments, which include the founding of l'Académie des Sciences, l'École de Rome, l'Observatoire and more. We decide he didn't have much of a say in the preparation of the eggplant parmigiana. A sea of Arrabiata sauce covers l'aubergine, and minutes after first tasting this concoction, Yank starts to display a lot of teeth, her eyes gleaming, tearing, even steaming… "Aaaaalice, c'est une sauce tomate meurtrière, c'est du feuuuuuu?!" and we both dip into the tomato-fuego to investigate furthermore.

Minutes later, our brains are overwhelmed by an intense and agreeable buzz - we fib not - and our bodies are shaken by uncontrollable fits of laughter. Then décor hits us. We're in an alcove, an exceptionally dim and private nook separated from the incessant hustle-bustle by one of several white drapes that float freely throughout the restaurant. Intimacy. Yet we're not alone in our niche. Non. The crocus-shaped red lamp casts a brooding, bloody light on our neighbours, a machiavélique couple whose mouths are overflowing with grappa, pasta and foul language. All those fucks, fucking, fuckers scorch the ears but it's our eyes and blood pressure that soar as we're the sole witnesses of the empoignade de fesses that occurs between the two.

By evening's end, we're the only deviants left in the restaurant, not quite sure what's real or not anymore, and as the staff wraps everything, we finally ask our waiter his name. Vin-Sang. We would so love to hang around 'til dawn. There's something about this place that breeds great madness and insanity. We really don't care if the food has been mediocre, it seems beside the point of eating chez Colbert.

Colbert
ADDRESS: 1235 Jean-Talon E. (corner de Normanville)
PHONE: 271-3890
HOURS: Tue-Fri 4-10PM; SAT 11AM-10PM;
closed Sunday and Monday
BEST FEATURES: Spiked Arrabiata sauce, mysterious atmosphere
that makes you want to come back for more
ALCOHOL: Absolutely
WHEELCHAIR ACCESS: Stairs
CARDS: Yes
NO-SMOKING SECTION: You'll need to smoke
RATING: 7/10