I will not be reviewing McDonald's or KFC or other American fast food chains. I didn't patronize them when I was living in the States and I won't patronize them here. But every once in a while, especially if you've lived for two years in France without one, you need a burger. That's nothing to be ashamed of.
So what do you do, particularly if the point of the exercise is to have someone else do the cooking? One answer is Buffalo Grill.
Here's where reviewing a place like the Buffalo Grill gets a bit dicey.
Ambience? American country music. Photos of John Wayne and prints depicting scenes of the American west on the walls. Life-size fiberglass statues of cowboys and Indians...cartoonish in the extreme. Booths lined with padded red Naugahyde. And wait staff wearing red flannel shirts and jeans. So basically, there's nothing approaching the type of atmosphere you expect in a French restaurant at all. It ain't fast food plastic, but it ain't ambience.
Service? Adequate. We came. We ordered. We were served. We ate. We asked for the bill. We paid. All in good time without undo waiting.
Food? Ah, yes. The food. Remember, this is a burger joint. And we got a burger. A beefy, juicy, drippy burger. There was a bit of a salad with kernels of corn, a few kidney beans, and commercial ranch dressing at the start. The burger came with standard, reconstituted frites along with a little bowl of dipping sauce that was too sweet to be the barbecue sauce that it was pretending to be. And the bun was a typical French take on a hamburger/hot dog roll, more brioche than bun and therefore prone to falling apart.
But all of the above having been said, we wanted a burger and we got a burger.
With an on-tap beer apiece, the tab came to 27 euros.
I am not embarrassed.
View my consolidated restaurant reviews by clicking HERE.