In the upper realms of food-obsessed Toronto regions, trends come and go like the weather. To survive in this fickle environment, restaurateurs usually adopt one of two strategies: they build a sound foundation and hunker down, with minor adjustments, through thick and thin; or they hop around, trying on new coats and hats, in an endless attempt to anticipate the next meteorological event.

Alice Fazoolis is a member of the former category. It has adapted a wild roadhouse formula that, for reasons unknown, gathers a full house regularly. Molson X-induced life in a bottle! Heaven? Maybe, but it is life in a happy, friendly beer commercial kind of way.

While dorks in Billy Squire shirts (I'm not bitter) will try to pick up your girlfriend when it's her turn to get the drinks, don't let it sour you. Bad Juju rises from all corners of the place. Gristly artwork hangs on brick walls and there’s a patio with a built in waterfall; they call it "The Tropical Paradise." The room is loud and boisterous, and if the sports bar thing strikes your fancy, than this is the one to get you out of the trailer park for a few hours.

Alice is in the centre of clubland, with a fabulous, damn fabulous, view of Scott’s Active Muffler. Weekdays are not crowded, with laid-back service and cheap menu fare, like crawdads, pasta and pizza, burgers, chili, and spaghetti topped by meat sauce and chili fixings, pleasantly transporting one back to the elementary-school cafeterias of youth. The modest beer selection runs a few rungs above Bud, and there's even champagne (we were surprised too) by the glass. French fries are the frozen variety, while chili-friendly crackers bear the official stamp of Nabisco.

Weekends fill it with castaways from surrounding bars: a great mix of big sexy chicks in latex pants, well-groomed kids, and bugbears in AC/DC T-shirts who pantomime all the drum fills to War Pigs.