Bilboquet (1311 rue Bernard ouest): I guess it's a good thing I'm living with someone because otherwise I eat everything at the wrong time. When left to my own devices, I have the automatic impulse to make scrambled eggs for dinner (the perfect oatmeal-textured kind, constantly stirred in a small pot with too much butter) and, then I find myself eating ice cream for breakfast. But when I walked by Bilboquet on a sunny Saturday morning, how could I resist? Lesley has told me many times how delicious it is, and homemade artisanal ice cream can't be that bad for you, can it? A cornet simple of bric a brac (creamy vanilla and chocolate chips) was the perfect way to kick-off a pre-summer weekend.