A little patch of France on Clapham Common, Gastro might seem like a pastiche of a Monsieur Hulot film. Staff have wonderful Gallic accents (although some let this slip when they think you’re not listening), dim lighting disguises the shabby tables & worn paintwork, & Pastis sits on the bar. It’s all highly atmospheric – until you eat. Recent outings here have been enormously disappointing: unpleasant onion soup, stale chips, steak that had been charred rather than grilled. Without the dismal food, you might miss the fact that the house wine seems almost undrinkable, that the prices are pretty high & that the staff can on occasion be extraordinarily rude: in an essentially French way, naturellement.
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