Bistro Voltaire

Excuse our French, but what the hell is going on at this place? The host greets guests with an authentic "bonsoir"; a server speaks fluent français to a table of expats; and the intimate atmosphere almost swept us right to the Left Bank. Yet the kitchen manages to desecrate the fundamentals of French cuisine, sending out dry and crumbly pâté, overcooked coq au vin, unseasoned sole and amateurish excuses for dessert. Quel dommage!