By the time I reached Les Rites Berbères, the white wine I was toting had lost much of its chill. On such a sweltering night, I wasn't surprised to see not a soul inside this small Algerian restaurant - not when there was a leafy courtyard out back that offered a chance of catching a breeze.

We installed ourselves among the bricks and vines and, noting the condensation forming on our bottle, set about ordering. Given the enticing smells wafting from homemade dishes, we were disconcerted by our host's disinterest in our queries. The mixed starter platter, what's on it? Shrug, hot and cold items, sigh. The differences between the many couscous mains with different names? Just the combination of meats, exasperated gesture, get the mix maison.

We took his suggestions. After all, who wants to be weaving in and out of a steaming kitchen, carrying hot plates to tables of filmy diners all kvetching about the unbearable weather? Plus, we told each other, you can't get away with attitude like that unless you have reason to be pretty damn confident about the food.

This assumption turned out to be mostly accurate. The starter plate presented an array of concoctions riding the line between stews and salads: herbed chickpeas; chickpeas, tomatoes and lamb balls; simmered peppers and onions; mildly sweet apples for some balance. However, it didn't completely convince me I wouldn't have enjoyed something else from the appetizer section more. Soups I wasn't even considering, but grilled sardines or brik, pastry leaves stuffed with egg and tuna, had appealed.

The house specialty of couscous maison was a cut above, starting with the semolina itself, fluffy and lively. It came with a ceramic bowl full of chunky vegetables in a thin broth, and meats that were tender across the board, lamb, chicken, and small, soft, superbly spiced merguez sausages.

Chicken with olives, also served over couscous, wasn't listed as a tagine, but had all the merits of this slow-cooked North African dish, including preserved lemons emanating that distinctively concentrated citrus scent. Fresh olives, green and black, kept the flavours briny and deep.

Dessert featured a slice of baklava with a narrow layer of nuts beneath the paper-thin fancy dough. Aromatized with orange-blossom water, it was exquisitely done, so exotic and so homey. Candy-like dates stuffed with almond paste were also a nice accompaniment to mint tea poured from on high into tiny glass cups.

As we finished, two other diners seemed to be experiencing a breakthrough with the proprietor as they chatted with him in the doorway. Had he been palling around with them all night while reserving his cold shoulder for us? Apparently not, we determined, when one of the customers returned to their table, removed a toonie from the tip tray and replaced it with a fiver before saying a cheerful goodbye.

We got a breakthrough smile and chuckle as we left, which I preferred to attribute to a gold heart shining through rather than the pleasure of seeing us go. It seemed genuine enough, the food was genuinely good, it was genuinely hot out - plus I genuinely want to try the restaurant's mechoui (roast lamb), provided for groups of seven with 24 hours notice.

The Gazette's reviewers visit restaurants anonymously. They pay in full for all food, wine and services. Any interviews of the restaurants' management and staff are done only after meals and services have been appraised. Reviewers do not accept invitations to evaluate restaurants. Ratings reflect reviewer's assessment of food, ambience, service and prices. Reviewer's initials and date of review are in parenthesis.