Gina Mallet reviews Pastis Express on Yonge Street, among other things. From the Toronto magazine: Pastis Express is such an attractive bistro, good food and wine, pleasant surroundings, comfortable seats — but oh, the noise. We’ve come for a cozy evening but can’t hear one another speak. The friend opposite me is moving his lips but I can’t hear a word. In a lull, he calls one of our party Elizabeth. She mouths her name is Linda. He’s so sorry, Belinda.

You can imagine how more complicated concepts end up. Iraq? Is that the Great Karnak? We’ve become verbal Mr. Magoos. Finally, two of us go outside to chat. OK, it’s Friday night at a popular Rosedale neighbourhood place and the folks are having a good time. The lads are shouting at the bar and there’s a baby joining in (we almost fell over its carriage by the door — what, can’t Rosedale afford babysitters?).

We seem to be the only people having hearing problems, but perhaps that’s because the crowd has the relaxed look of regulars who have come to commune as much as converse. Very much like the habitues of a pub, come to think of it. I know I’d enjoy Pastis Express were it not for the noise. The food is standard bistro fare and reasonably priced.

Brandade of salt cod, excellent fish soup, crispy minty grilled sardines, steak tartare seasoned just right, pink lamb chops, medium rare and tender pan-seared calve’s liver: the veal scallopini looks like corduroy but tastes OK. I think the presentation could be more appealing: The food appears to have been thrown at the plates. Mounds of frites obscure the steak tartare, mounds of salad obscure the brandade. And service is spotty.