The ambiance, while seeming at first positive as we waited for our table, swung 180 degrees as we were sat at a tiny table in what transpired to be a rather shoddily-decorated restaurant. Not that I normally rate a place based on its toilet facilities, but the ramshackle smallest room at Cocotte almost beggars belief. It was perversely funny to find a French restaurant that chose 1960s France as its toilette inspiration.
The food was so-so - my Fois Gras (yes, it's currently back on the list of legally available foods, for the time being) was as rich and tasty as it ought to be, while my Coq Au Vin was also rich - probably a little too rich if I'm pressed - and tiny-ish. My belle Pavey chose the Goat Cheese and Pistachio Fritter followed by the Duck Confit. She pronounced her choices as good, then dry.
With 3 glasses of decent but not flashy wine, and the required Uber both ways - it's downright impossible to park anywhere on Nob Hill - the outing reminded us there are plenty of more accessible French restaurants in town, serving more reasonably priced food in much more agreeable surroundings.
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