Critic A. A. Gill went to the bistro L'Ami Louis in Paris and wrote a pretty epic takedown, calling it "the worst restaurant in the world": "It's painted a shiny, distressed dung brown. The cramped tables are set with labially pink cloths, which give it a colonic appeal and the awkward sense that you might be a suppository." And then he got the broiled kidneys: "Somehow the heat had welded them together into a gray, suppurating renal brick. It could be the result of an accident involving rat babies in a nuclear reactor. They don't taste as nice as they sound." [Vanity Fair]
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Five years after I went public with my #MeToo experiences in the restaurant industry, has anything really changed?
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