Although highly recommended by our hotel concierge, this place should have had us running for the door soon after entering. Greeted by a gaggle of micro-mini-skirted sweet young things, we were told to find a seat on our own. The front room with the TV: no. The tiny, flourescent-lit bar area: no. The area festooned with disco mirrors and murals depicting 14 century French peasants: okay. At this point we should be asking ourselves, why stay? Hungry and tired, we proceeded. I was dying for a cassoulet, and that's what I ordered. My friend had a salade Nicoise. The cassoulet was tired and bland; the salad was missing dressing and was just tasteless. Thank god for a big pour of wine. We needed it.
We went next door to Ferreir's (Portuguese) where we'd eaten the night before to remind ourselves how enjoyable a meal could be. Obe grilled calamari and a sorbet (and another glass of wine) later, we were happy.