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The bistro that helped launch Alphabet City's own French Revolution a few years back has, sadly, become just another steak-frites factory. And a factory on the skids, at that. Chicken with mashed potatoes is certainly enjoyable, but the overall rush—the distracted waiter, the haphazard arrival of dishes, the neglected water glasses and bread basket—gives you the sense that, in the end, you are nothing more than a cog on an assembly line, to be turned this way and that, tweaked with benign indifference, until you can be ushered back out onto Avenue B, ready, finally, to find your fun elsewhere. — Matt Gross

Sat.–Sun., 11 a.m.–4 p.m.