I was so excited. I'd read about Pastis online and in magazines. It was regularly featured as the place to brunch on "Sex and the City." Last time I was in NYC, Nicole had tried to get us reservations but it was booked solid. She was bound and determined that I eat well on this trip, and made sure we got reservations.
My hopes were high. As we walked into Pastis, still bulging with people waiting for breakfast at 1pm, Nicole announced, "This is the best brunch ever." So needless to say, when our pathetic egg dishes appeared, we were less than impressed. We were actually dumbfounded by the meal's mediocrity. Nicole, a woman who prides herself on knowing good food, was mortified.
My Eggs Hussard was bone-dry, and I needed a steak knife and excessive force to cut into the toast. The poached eggs? Overcooked into slimy little frisbees. The proper amount of Hollandaise sauce could have salvaged the meal, but they were stingy. Which is a shame, because my love for Hollandaise is well-documented. Nicole's Eggs Sardu, while pretty enough sitting on a sauteed spinach throne, were equally unacceptable. Her artichoke heart was not properly cleaned out, and was full of those little hairy bits. Her eggs were also overcooked. We were not happy.
And then, they had the nerve to serve us orange juice that may or may not have been from concentrate, but it certainly tasted as if it did.
Total Cost? $46.87. Disappointing.
2 comments:
Baby! I'm so sorry... it's official. You simply can't move to New York now - image, a town that allows such meals to be served in the name of fine dining. For shame!
Balthazar's Blondie. Late afternoons sipping champagne and eating oysters.
You should ask your elders. We have suffered so you don't have to. (:)
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