1 /5
Média de Avaliação
★
When we arrived, the smokes of the kitchen had colonized the ground floor, and that is also why we asked to install the suprior stadium. After sitting down, a server obviously lost patience, we're rushing to order. Once served, the balance sheet is not said: if you order a carpaccio (11 you will serve three slices of buf cuts in ridiculously fine lattes hoping for dry parmesan shavings, all drowned in an olive oil bath. If your choice is on the foie gras (12 you will have the pleasure to taste a pt circle of a qualit mdiocre, much too firm and served with a jam whose sugar rate will explode your glycmic index. For dishes, one of the people of our table wishing to take fries the place of the...