Stop the insanity. For God's sake, stop this insanity now. Stop the fawning 5-star reviews and ravings about €85 roast chicken that was touched by the hand of God and prices that suggest a criminal conspiracy and the celebration of service that was - at its best - rude and imperious.
I was almost taken in too. After a restaurant owner that we befriended in London sent us an email suggesting that we try to dine at L'Ami Louis I checked the Yelp reviews and found almost universal acclaim for this unprepossessing command post of Gallic criminal cuisine.
It's immediately apparent after setting foot through the narrow front doors that the restaurant owners are not spending any of their obscene profits on the restaurant's decor. In fact, I would wager that the entire annual maintenance budget for the railcar sized restaurant could be met with whatever miscellaneous euro coins you can dig out of your pocket right now. But in an age of shabby chic, I assume that most of their patrons mistake distressed and worn for vintage.
Upon entry we were immediately accosted - not greeted - by one of several paunchy and truculent waiters who were milling about an emptying table and ordered to stand at the far end of the room. Now I'm not sure how to translate "Goodfellas" into French, but this crew of beefy and baleful waiters could certainly have starred in the sequel "Goodfellas in Paris: Poulet Pilfery."
We were finally seated nearly 30 minutes after our reservation time and presented with a single page, laminated menu that was as classy as those you receive at the Midland, TX WaffleHouse - though without the enticing photos of each dish. I took a photo of the menu to prove that I wasn't exaggerating the breathtaking prices. €59 foie gras, €140 lamb for two, €140 beef ribs for two, €25 salad and €25 chocolate cake (not the whole cake, just a slice) and the aforementioned €85 roast chicken pour deux. With the exchange rate at about 1.5-1, our dinner tab was apparently going to rival my monthly mortgage payment.
Before we could catch our breath from the exorbitant prices on the menu, we were delivered a bound tome of laminated pages substantial enough to induce a permanent sag in the wooden dining table. Apparently the owners understand that laminate alone cannot sufficiently convey the unconscionable prices of the wine list, which make the merely obscene menu prices pale in comparison. No, truly extortionate pricing requires a leather cover.
Before proceeding any further, let me assure you that I am entirely accustomed to paying dear prices for extraordinary meals. I take no issue with the prices I paid just days before at Nobu in London for small plates of exquisite food. My complaint is paying exorbitant prices for intentional mediocrity.
We order a bottle of white burgundy that retails for approximately $50 but is charmingly priced here at €200.
Now, all I'd read about the restaurant were the effusive reviews of their otherworldly roast chicken and frites, so we started with a salad and waited for our promised land chicken.
The salad of frisée and mâche - two leaves so contrarian that they have no business sharing the same bowl - was drenched in an entirely forgettable vinaigrette and simply dropped at the end of the table for us to serve ourselves.
It was at this point that I began to recognize the impact of the Stockholm syndrome on my own expectations and impressions of L'Ami Louis. I wanted to believe. I wanted to overlook the haughty service. I wanted to excuse the unreasonable prices. I wanted to embrace the 5-star reviews. But then they brought the chicken.
The adjective "plain" doesn't sufficiently capture the complete lack of decoration, adornment or garnishment on our plates of chicken. Imagine a complete absence of inspiration presented on a simple white plate and you capture some of the disillusion that was set before us.
And that was before we actually applied knife and fork to their impenetrably resilient fowl.
I regularly buy rotisserie roasted chicken from my local grocery store for $7. It is unfailingly tender, flavorful and delicious. Everything that was absent in L'Ami Louis' pretentious dish.
Fortunately, I had my iPhone with me so I could look up the phrase "the chicken is tough and rubbery" in Google Translate. I even listened to the translation a few times so that I would pronounce the phrase "le poulet est dur et caoutchouteux" correctly.
I needn't have bothered. Nobody ever asked us how our meal was. And why should they? They count on deluded tourists to clamor for one of their limited tables for the privilege of paying hundreds of euros for a meal that is provided nightly at countless brasseries across the city for one-fifth the price.
It's time to break the cycle of abuse. Avoid L'Ami Louis. read more