Given the inordinate amount of attention this restaurant received following its extensive renovation, I expected, perhaps a bit unrealistically, to be swept up in romance and old NY glamour, garnished by fabulous meals and impeccable service. Cafe Des Artistes, however, is the place where one brings their mother, rather than their lover, for an evening of ok food, stodgy, overdone atmosphere, and service that is, at first glance, passable - just don't look too closely (hint to wait staff: when one orders a new wine mid-dinner, change one's glass before pouring). You will not be blown away by anything at this restaurant, except the bill - and unless Mummy is leaving you a sizeable inheritance, take her to a less ornate place that doesn't over-cook your skate or charge you for an extra bread basket.
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