I’ve been to plenty of subpar restaurants in my time, but never have I had as unpleasant an experience as my first and only evening at the Stale Baguette. The name probably should have tipped me off, but my wife and I elected to give the place a chance based on a glowing recommendation from a friend of mine.
I’m still undecided on whether I want to speak to him again.
The Stale Baguette is advertised as a “serene slice of Paris.” Perhaps I’m uncultured, but I don’t associate serenity with deafeningly loud heavy metal, nor Paris with waiters wearing bamboo wind chimes as hats. The décor was similarly puzzling, and that’s assuming the empty liquor bottles scattered across the floor weren’t supposed to be there.
My wife and I were forced to wait fifteen minutes before being seated. Mind you, this was not due to a lack of available tables, but rather because much of the dining room staff were preoccupied with clipping their toenails while laughing at us and the other patrons. Once we were finally seated, we found that our cutlery was drenched in dirt, as though they had just been used to dig an opencast mine. When I brought this to the attention of a passing waiter, he spat in my face.
As far as I’m concerned, my wife and I had already been provided with enough reasons to write-off the Stale Baguette and seek dinner someplace else, but we’re a patient pair. Plus, when our assigned waiter came to take our order, he seemed far more pleasant than the rest of his co-workers.
Seemed being the operative word.
While I was relaying my order to the waiter, he lightly kicked me in the chin. I said nothing, simply presuming that it was unintentional. That explanation seemed less plausible after the seventh kick to the chin. I can only assume that injuring me for no discernible reason absorbed all his attention while he was taking our orders, because he got them completely wrong.
My wife was served a spicy veal and capsicum broth instead of the French onion soup she ordered, while I was simply given a bowl of salt. I promptly told our waiter that a mistake was made, at which point he scrambled into the kitchen. A few moments later, the head chef charged into the dining room brandishing sharp cooking utensils.
We only narrowly made it back to our car, which is now in dire need of repainting.
I give the Stale Baguette one and a half stars.