Located right at the Chinatown gate, the decor of Cafe D La Presse oozes frenchiness and the promise of delicious breakfast. Alas. Alas. My poached eggs arrived shriveled and smelling strongly of vinegar water that they were boiled in. This indicates that they a) can't poach eggs properly worth a damn and b) don't know or care about rinsing off the shameful evidence. The eggs were accompanied by the fried and (probably) oven-finished potatoes whose crust had an unpleasant scent -- perhaps the oil was getting old and rancid. The toast ("white or wheat") is of the crappy pre-sliced bread variety. Untoasted and cold. Blah. The croissant was served cold and was not the quality one expects from a restaurant with a "de la" in its name. The french onion soup was just OK. The final coup de gras was a red plastic milk jug ring that my wife found at the bottom of her latte doggy bowl ('tis the shape, friends -- doggies don't have hands, thus no handle). I am not sure what I expected the restaurant to do about this when we pointed it out. I got only an apologetic shrug.
Because of their location, Cafe de la Presse will attract a steady stream of customers regardless of the quality of food, service or any reviews here. One keeps hoping that someone at the restaurant will take notice and improve, but for now I cannot recommend it.
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