Monkland Taverne

On a slightly snooty strip of Monkland Ave, the Taverne rears its pretty little head as a respite from the over-tanned, over-coiffed, over-botoxed, rat-dog coddling, non-fat-soy-latté-loving set that rules the hood. Check your la-di-da at the door. It's a simple formula of good eats, good drinks, good tunes, good service. Ziti with meatballs, braised lamb shank or hangar steak with radicchio, a glass of Malbec, done and done. Get there early as line-ups start at 7pm and they don't take reservations. If you so much as whisper "Go Habs!" to Mark, behind the bar, he'll get you drunk.