Oh, where do I even begin with Le Comptoir - aka the subpar - Le Comptoir San Rafael - Buy Reservations
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🤮 1/5 - Oh, where do I even begin with Le Comptoir - aka the subpar
By 👻 @A O., 09/24/2023 3:00 am
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Oh, where do I even begin with Le Comptoir - aka the subpar (en)counter? If it were possible to give zero stars, I would, but unfortunately, that option doesn't exist. Let me preface this scathing review by saying that I am a staunch believer in supporting local businesses, even the ones that occasionally stumble, but dear reader, this restaurant didn't just stumble; it face-planted and then rolled down a hill of despair. My other half and I ventured out on a Friday night, eager to embrace the culinary delights of our neighborhood. After a brief stroll in downtown San Rafael, we decided to give Le Comptoir a try. The location seemed promising, nestled at the corner of 4th and C St., and a bustling wine shop attached to it. Little did we know, the only thing attached to this place was disappointment. As we entered the restaurant, we were greeted with the warmth and hospitality of an iceberg. We stood around for a good five minutes, which, in restaurant time, feels like an eternity, especially when the place was nearly empty. Eventually, the owner, who should win an award for the worst first impression, emerged from the wine shop. He grunted, "Table or high-top," and when we chose a high-top, he pointed vaguely and muttered, "Sit anywhere." So much for a gracious welcome. We sat there, twiddling our thumbs for an additional 10 minutes before I had to semaphore our desire for attention. By the time the owner graced us with his presence, it was painfully clear that he had seen better days. Disheveled, toothless, and emitting the aroma of a frat party, he slurred his words like a drunken sailor. In an attempt to make pleasant conversation, we introduced ourselves and expressed our desire to support a local establishment. He responded with a total disregard for our existence and bluntly offered us the choice of a $70 per person set menu or ordering à la carte. When we asked for a menu, we were ignored and curtly told, "You can go with the option for $70 per person or à la carte." How kind. Reluctantly, we chose the $70 per person option, and our inebriated captain sauntered away, muttering "we." It took another trek to the bar for us to secure water and a wine list. His offer of "red or white" was met with a weary "red," to which he retorted, "Merlot or Bordeaux." My husband, defeated and drained of all enthusiasm, sighed and said, "Bordeaux." I secretly yearned for a Cote du Rhone, so I mustered the courage to ask for it, along with a Pepsi or coke, at which point I was met with condescending laughter and the insipid remark, "Why, you don't like wine?" I had to explain, "No, I don't drink alcohol," to which he giggled again and declared, "Wine or water, that's what we have." I reluctantly opted for water. When the food eventually arrived (a torturous 15 minutes later), it was lukewarm and as visually appealing as a pile of wet cardboard. The dishes were a mishmash of meats, raw fish, and fatty, undercooked fare. There were no vegetables to speak of, and grains were as scarce as a mirage in the desert. By the time we trudged through the main courses, we contemplated skipping dessert, but we thought, "How bad can dessert be?" Well, dear reader, it was worse. The Creme Brulee was undercooked and runny, while the apple tart had the texture of a fossilized relic. Our bill, a whopping $212.00, left us questioning our life choices. We could have been ecstatically munching on Big Macs at McDonald's or savoring the delights of any of the genuinely remarkable local restaurants in the area. To summarize, Le Comptoir delivered subpar service, served up poor-quality, unappetizing food, and presented an ambiance that could only be described as tragic. There was no sign outside to indicate the restaurant's name, and the walls inside were as barren as the promises of an unreliable friend. It's painfully evident that this place is teetering on the brink of culinary extinction, and the owner's drowning his sorrows in alcohol while masquerading as the French Laundry. Consider these glaring red flags before you even think of darkening their doorstep: * NO SIGNAGE: If you can't find the place, it's doing you a favor. * 5-MINUTE WAIT: In an empty restaurant? It's like they were auditioning for a comedy show. * 10-MINUTE WAIT: For the privilege of being ignored? Hard pass. * NO MENU: Who needs choices, right? * RUDE SERVICE: If you enjoy being treated like a bothersome fly, by all means, go ahead. * BARE WALLS: Because apparently, they're too busy not serving good food to decorate. In conclusion, save your taste buds, your time, and your money. There are far better options in town, and you won't have to endure the sorry spectacle of Le Comptoir. Bon appétit - elsewhere!
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