A sweeping staircase brings you elegantly into the bar and dance floor of what started out as a swanky ballroom in the 1920's. You can book a ... More
Cafe de Paris
A sweeping staircase brings you elegantly into the bar and dance floor of what started out as a swanky ballroom in the 1920's. You can book a 'drinking table' on the mezzanine or the dance floor; the restaurant is open on weekends with live cabaret-style entertainment available. The modern British menu is fairly impressive. Starters range from soup to caviar (three varieties, at a supplement) while fish, meat and vegetarian dishes compete for your attention for mains.
This is definitely a night club, not a restaurant. When we arrived about 30 minutes prior to our (Christmas) dinner reservation, we were led to a waiting table, but nobody bothered to offer us to order a drink!
The food was ok, but nothing spectacular.
For 55 GBP (plus service charge and drinks), I would expect better food and better service.
Average food. Not terrible, but then again nothing like you'd expect for �20 per main course.
My main gripe though is the way we were treated. After out meal we asked for an esperesso and a late.
"We only do filter coffee." Fine no problem. 10 minutes Later.
"The cofffee will be five minutes because we don't have filters."
Right, okay, not to worry, I guess you'd better pop to the shop then. Starting to get concerned now because we have to be at a show at 9.30.
Half and hour later! We get the coffees into which I hurredly pour my milk, because we're late. Only to find that the milk was completely off. I mean really curdled, with lumps in it, and stinking. enough to make you puke.
"That milk's off, can we just have the bill, we have to be somewhere".
"oh", said the waiter, and just put the pot of rancid milk on the side of our chair.
Then, and this is what really got me. Knowing we had to be somewhere urgently, 45 minutes ago that was, and knowing that he'd messed us about for nearly an hour with the coffee, and knowing that when it came he gave us rancid milk, and knowing that he hadn't apologised, or even seemed to care, he then went and served another table of coke snorting sniggering hooray henry's right in front of us. Taking his sweet time opening four bottles of chamapigne and laughing and joking like he had all the time on the world. I guess they were spending more money.
We finally had to grab a passing cook and plead with him to get us a waiter to let us pay the bill so we could get out of the god forsaken place.
Not the kind of experience you want when you spend �80 on a meal for 2.
And to add insult to injury, they automatically ad their own tip. I hate it when they do that!
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