Review at a glance: ★★☆☆☆
My most forgiving friends are, for that reason, my most cherished. When I was 19 I visited one who was living in Bordeaux. We queued an hour for L’Entrecôte, which I remember for its tartan wallpaper and mummified waitresses, who hurried about in school bus yellow T-shirts that matched the tablecloths, as though the same material had been used for both. And I remember the steak, drenched in a “secret” sauce. This, plus a salad and three hastily glugged wines, came to about €15. I swore to come back.
