Le Pete Fumigate

 

        There is a new French restaurant in the heart of Clarkston, whose pretentiousness permeates from the wine bar to the velvet rope, keeping at bay those eager to part with their wallets.  Although it is lavished with Art Deco fixtures, and a smattering of artsy vases, the first time diner will quickly discover a missing functionality, from the absence of coat racks, to the coffee cups handles too dainty to be picked up.

          Perhaps, in an effort to tone down the pricey chicken ribs basted with a creamy garlic – pomegranate reduction, they offer as deserts a choice of Ding Dongs, doughnut holes, or Twinkies. (No Joke)     

          I give them high marks for an adventurous spirit, but anticipate that after the initial wave of curious Clarkstonians discover that even their Discover Card isn’t enough to cover the price of the Shredded Hooves with Sprouts, the doors to what was once The Clarkston Café, will once again be closed, and offered up to someone a little more aware of their audience and the present economy.

 

         ZC (2 cents worth)