The hotel told us the Brasserie Lipp was probably the best one on the Left Bank, on Rue St Germain. It had great, classic Brasserie feel and decorations — and being over 100-years-old, it still held onto that legendary Left Bank feeling. Yes, it seemed a little worn, but it held the aspect of classic era with the pride of an old man yet unbowed.
This fantasy balloon popped on the way to the WC — and there was their “gear” collectibles. Garish.
But the food was abysmal. The best was the potato leek soup, which was mediocre at best. Tasteless. The meat entrees — steak frites and beef bourguignon — were shockingly bad.
The steak was not any cut I knew of; so grisly you had to cut sideways to get a piece of chewable meat. The frites were amazing — but what French restaurant can’t make great fries?
The bourguignon, one of my favorite French dishes, was dry, like a old rump roast; boiled carrots were thrown on the side and so little au juice was included that an ant wouldn’t drown in it.
We pondered desert — only to see many people ordering this massive meringue monster, which given how the other food came out, concerned us in its grotesque form and size. It was probably very good, but Lipp had lost its chance. We hurried to leave. The cool Paris air felt freeing.
So speaks the OutspokenTraveler.
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Outspoken Traveler 