Suffers from delusions of adequacy.
Took a doggy bag home; the dog refused it.
If this place doesn't get you laid, nothing will.
Saves fuel bills – the heartburn will keep you warm all winter.
The immature eating the indelible.
Like a skunk, it's small, it's cute and it stinks.
Abandon taste buds all ye who enter here.
A petri dish gone horribly, horribly wrong.
The roaches always get the best seats.
Chef's responsibility is to turn on the microwave.
They put the salmon in salmonella.
If I want a fatty sandwich served by a walking attitude, I'll go to mom's.
Grandma cooked like this, grandpa died young.
Good seafood, but the waiter should be used as fish bait.
Not what it used to be and it did not used to be much.
Duck must have had a long flight – tired, tough and took 90 minutes to arrive.
Portions so small I started laughing – prices so high I started crying.
Have yet to learn that heat is an integral part of the cooking process.
For the price, the lobster should have come via overnight express, not pony express.
'Breaking bread' should not mean you have to use the side of the table.
The quiche of death.
Should shut down the restaurant and just serve the view.
It’s hard to tell where the food stops and the Styrofoam containers begin.
Once you drive through ax-murderer country to get here you are pleasantly surprised by all the people and the buzz.
The No. 1 spot in town for crooked pharma reps to stuff fat doctors full of $50 steaks.
I do wish they'd stop sticking a pine tree in every entree.
A good place to go with co-workers you don't like.
The staff is charmingly incompetent.
Who said it was ok to expose your chest hair while serving people their sandwiches and frozen yogurt?
The only thing healthy about the place is the exit door.
Even the ice water had garlic in it.
Staff wanders around as if they were just beamed to this strange location.
The food may have been excellent, but I was choking on the prices.
My office comes here for special lunches, but I wish they'd stop.
Hard to tell if it is a restaurant or drug front.
My waiter was so soft-spoken I thought he was a mime.
It seems that the owner, the chef and I have lost interest.
The food may be bad, but at least the service is slow.
Overpriced and undergood.
They make you walk around with a horse stick and blow a whistle. That'll teach you to tell someone it's your birthday.
Our waiter was very unattractive, and this being LA, I have to downgrade the Decor rating.
If I wanted to be treated with distaste, I would just stay home.
We could have lived without knowing that our waiter was 'Steven from Long Beach.'
Could someone do something about the uniforms? 1982 just called and it wants its suspenders back.
The waiter took my order, went outside to smoke and then waved through the window.
Can I vote 'ugh'?
Great food amid a sea of shorts and black socks.
I would rather eat sushi from a vending machine.
It has a great reputation among people who don't get out much.
Foie gras does not need to be put into a mascarpone cookie.
Even their 'regulars' have stopped going there.
What is an 'ultra lounge' anyway?
The valet stole my cell phone and called Brazil 11 times.
Other than having gone to hell in a handbasket, everything is just like it was before the sale.
Take a look at the staff on the way in – that’s the last you’ll see of them.
Service so attentive you may have to ask for some privacy.
The chef keeps renaming and relocating the restaurant like it’s a member of the Federal Witness Protection Program.
Primary attraction was the small wildlife wandering across the table.
The maitre d' made us wait to be seated, apparently for no other reason than because he could.
Service with a grudge.
If you have no personality, this is the hangout for you.
Quail with figs had exactly one fig. When asked for more, the waiter replied there's one fig per customer!
The viewing beats the chewing.
The only way the tables could be closer together would be to stack them.
Form over flavor.
If only the spectacular view could fill one's stomach.
The special occasion place for people with bad taste.
I’m pretty sure I ate cow’s udders and liked them.
Foam is not the solution.
I thought I was looking at an oil painting when suddenly it moved – it was my waitress.
I don’t tip if I get groped.
The service is like a bad high school play: warm, well-meaning and completely inept.
Dishwashing utensil in my gumbo tainted the meal.
Service exists in two modes: know it all and not at all.
Like eating in an NYC subway station, only nicer.
I was told by the waiter that I have the wrong palate.
Our wine was a year older when if finally arrived at the table.
I actually pulled out my cell phone and called and asked them to please bring us water.
I liked the concept until I ate here.
I’d love to go back - if you were paying.
Proof that there’s no shortage of people who want to eat bad food in historic buildings.
What they lack in quality, they make up for with butter.
Good place to turn down a marriage proposal.
Be prepared for a lot of high-fives and drunk frat guys screaming “Falafel !!!”
My husband-to-be ordered a brain burrito. I married him anyway.
Most of the food here tastes like cheese with extra cheese on top.
Our waiter would have been better cast as an undertaker.
I’m convinced that my salad was deep-fried.
Less than meets the eye.
So much staff...so little service.