It tells me "Caveat Emptor," and I went with my old friend from the West Coast who is crashing at my flat for a few days and has high standards but was just off the plane and thus taste-bud-challenged I hoped. Hey, remember, it was Saturday lunch, Judge, and I'm sticking with my story. Anyway, we were warmly welcomed by the enthusiastic front lady and seated at in the primo spot looking out on the street and looked back in to the very, very bistroish interior and it was pretty cool.
Then he had the broiled gambas with salad and I the quenelles de Lyon (it promotes itself as a Lyonnais resto, and sure, I could have played safe as some readers want me to, but hey, I was on a roll). Well, we came acropper of Metro frozen/thawed, industrial stuff; the gambas were soggy and nigh-inedible and the quenelles like none other I've ever had, and that's not a compliment.
With a bottle of Brouilly, no bottled water and two coffees, our bill was $93.60.
Go? Not with Charbon Rouge (open 7/7) a few feet away.
*By "Metro sandwich" I mean OK fresh stuff surrounding thawed mushy stuff.