THE EMPEROR ATE HIS CLOTHES ~ What welcomed us from the street were grungy letters painted across a saggy awning. I could feel disappointment begin to simmer. As we entered, my second impression confirmed my first, as we were 'non greeted' by staff exuding the same faded, apathetic, slouch as their sign outside. #27 on S. Pellegrino's List of the World's 50 Best Restaurants, Le Chateaubriand is hailed in multiple Paris food blogs as one of the hardest tables to score in the city, requiring three weeks advance booking and even earned a high mark mention by Anthony Bourdain in one of his assorted Paris episodes. ~ After being seated we proceeded to have one of the worst meals and certainly one of the worst overall culinary experiences of our lives. ~ The assorted amuse bouches, more tortured than amused, is how we began our descent. The first, a plate scattered with a few shell-on fried shrimp resembling tiny battered insects, dusted with what looked like powdered ketchup, had no definitive taste. Gougères followed, their only flavor salvation a light coating of poppy seeds. ~ When told in advance that my boyfriend's daughter does not eat shellfish, her bowl of gelatinous crab shreds was replaced with an inedible salty lump of trout roe buried in a mushy 'tomato' sauce. When she received a tasteless rubbery cube of tapioca our squid dish was left uneaten after one unfavorable spoonful of the soggy mess. Horrendous. There was a fish dish with what looked like rhubarb, (it wasn't) that I also pushed away after one bitter bite of its unpleasant consistency. Another somewhat uninteresting fish dish was served with a limp bok choy leaf followed by an ugly little cup of dish watery celery broth with a shrimp(?) dumpling that seemed resurrected and thawed from the back of a freezer. The ris de veau was the only dish with any semblance of presentation, well cooked with some interesting citrusy flavor but at this point, simply hard to enjoy. ~ Our second of two desserts, the first a bland meringue disc, drizzled with caramel atop cream that just tasted 'white' was followed by a pastry base holding a 'surprise' for which we were told to enjoy in one very large bite. The almond taste and chewy consistency were actually quite pleasing until an entire raw egg yolk exploded both in and out of our mouths. Yes, Surprise! The few lovely slices of seasonal gariguette strawberries with candied fennel seeds were just too little way too late as we could barely scrape our plummeted expectation from the restaurant's dirty floor. ~ What is the French word for slop? Not only was the food served as if it was being doled out in a prison cafeteria, but the dishes themselves looked as such: bland, brown, mushy, gelatinous, with a shallow layer of simplistic and unlikable flavor. ~ Sitting here felt like purgatory, and they could not have removed the unfinished and barely touched plates quickly enough. Nor did they, as the service continued to be consistent with our earlier impressions, apathetic and sluggish. We had asked for tap water and were given and charged for a bottle of Evian. When clarified later for our second bottle, we waited. When wanting to order a second bottle of wine, to numb our painstaking distaste, we waited.~ Le Chateaubriand feels like a restaurant riding on some reputation wave that has long since crashed ashore, while having mastered the audacity to source the least expensive ingredients, prepare them in the least palatable way, serve them in the most apathetic manner and still charge seventy Euros per person. The bill, we were informed at the end of our painful experience, would have to be paid for in cash as their card machine had broken earlier that day. Now we realized that the assorted clients squeezing past our table had been leaving and returning not from their post meal nicotine fix but from the closest ATM. When asked why we were not told of this glitch before our meal, the waiter told us he had not wanted our evening to start off badly. ~ We shared our honest feedback with our waiter upon leaving but his defensive response remained solely focused on his broken credit card machine rather than on our overall disappointment. We felt stunned, cheated and angry. The highlight of the evening was the comfort in knowing we were not alone as a woman at a nearby table entertained us with the varied expressions of disdain and revulsion on her face with each plate put before her and subsequently pushed away. ~When we finally exited the restaurant past assorted enthusiastic patrons standing at the bar awaiting their coveted spots for the second seating, we couldn't help but think that if the Emperor actually ate his own clothes, no one else would have to. read more