t's minus 30 below, but who better than the Russians to know how to take the sting out of a brutal winter's night? Troika, named after the three-horse drawn sleigh, is snuggled below sidewalk level on upper Crescent St. Stepping down into the warm velvet hug of a tiny antechamber, I think of Sex in the City's Carrie Bradshaw reacting to her Russian date's favourite haunt. "It's very red."

The "very red" trappings, antique samovars and the tiny candle-lit lanterns are warm and inviting. Strolling musicians "Sergei" and "Sergei" further break the ice with rousing renditions of Russian folk music. Fine china, real silver and super-attentive service make you feel like Russian nobility of the old empire, and that aspiration is also reflected in the fare. This is not "Soviet" cuisine.

It is "Franco-Russe," a hybrid of French cooking incorporating Russian ingredients predating the revolution. So, it's no surprise that Chef Jerome Boully is French, not Russian. The food is outstanding. Neophytes can enjoy a degustation menu or, if you don't want to go the whole hog, try the wild boar, or the shrimp and scampi theatrically flambéed at your table. Of course, there is caviar ironically; it is imported from Iran since quality controls are better. You can sample 30 grams of Sevruga for $74.00 or go entirely berserk and order the 50 gram trio of Sevruga, Ossetra and Beluga for $410.00.

But tonight I am not here about the food. I came about the vodka culture. I ask the beautiful Russian bartender "Marina" if her clientele has changed since the current vodka craze. Her puzzled look makes me instantly realize that suggesting vodka is a "trend" to a Russian is like asking a Canadian if beer is making a comeback. But this is THE place to educate your palate if you intend to become an aficionado.