Bobo

21 rue Commandant André 06400 Cannes, France+33 4 93 99 97 33

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While the place may be named after a clown, whoever is in the kitchen is dead serious, serving up dishes of salmon with lo mein that would turn many a head in China. Roughly 1.35 billion heads to be precise. And while I didn’t have the tuna carpacio with caper berries, I ogled my neighbors quite longingly. And said neighbor affirmed that it was even better than it looks. So not your traditional French fare, but far superior to that over-hyped blowhard across the rue, Pastis.

For dessert we shared a strawberry tiramisu, which didn’t taste very tiramisu-ish, and more strawberry parfait-ish. So if I had to do it again, I’d go with that carpacio app and forego dessert.

Bobo also does breakfast well, although it’s significantly more traditional at this meal time. But the basics are done well, from the freshest OJ I had all week to a cheese omelet that hit the spot.

I’m torn between three and four knives on this one, but because I had so many lacking meals prior to eating here, I think my palate was overjoyed to have something with flavor. So trying to account for the curve, let’s assume it’s a three until I return for a third-time’s-a-charm confirmation on four.

3 teeth

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Tick Tock Diner

481 8th Ave. New York, NY 10001(212) 268-8444ticktockdinerny.com

TickTockDiner-NY

Unofficially, I believe the name is derived from the fact that if you eat here, the clock is running on how much time you have left to live. Okay, so that’s probably not entirely true. It’s probably how much time before you become ill, which for me was only a matter of seconds, stepping in to the sauna-like dining room, which a term way too nice for whatever this was. “Eating area” I will call it.

So, the eating area is actually quite packed during the breakfast rush, for reasons which escape me entirely, because the food is god awful. Granted our career waitress who has been there since the day it opened 17 years ago was very nice. And apparently she squeezed the oranges herself to make the fresh squeezed orange juice I ordered. The issue, however, is that you need to start with good oranges in order to get good juice. After all, it’s not like the process of fresh squeezing miraculously transforms a pile of shit oranges into liquid gold. Thus, the fresh squeezed orange juice was plus rapidly turned minus.

And equally tragic was the Greek omelet, which was so disappointing it almost rivaled the economic issues in Greece as the lowest point in the nation’s modern day history. Filled with feta, spinach, olives and tomatoes it was so flavorless I could’ve closed my eyes and had someone told me it was a plain omelet, I wouldn’t have even questioned it. I guess this place is as terrified of salt as they are of buying fresh produce?

Suffice it to say, this place isn’t going to be raking in the knives, so if you are already sitting in the eating area and are reading this now, get out while you still can! Tick tock!!!!

1 tooth