And change he didn't. On my last Bofinger visit a few years back, I would not have wanted to serve the famed tartare de boeuf to a dog, and after a multiweek sampling of all the top-rated choucroute platters in Paris, Bofinger's version landed at the bottom of the list. Fresh sardines are marinated ever so lightly, then teamed up with a salad of legumes croquants that I would call deliciously updated cole slaw, adapted by a French palate. Minute bits of cabbage and carrots are bathed in light sauce and molded in a very French timbale. The menu justifiably keeps such classics as Baltic herring in cream and dill, but also offers a refreshing, richly flavored cold tomato soup dotted with cubes of monkfish and showered with fresh leaves of basil.
Service is another story.
On a given night, you may be ushered to your table by one waiter, handed the menu by another, have your order taken by a third, and be served by a fourth. Democracy is also not a word to be found in Bofinger's dictionary. Neighboring diners who arrive after you may be served well before you. Some diners are given olives with their aperitif, some a bowl of pretzels. Some tables are offered petits fours with coffee, others are not.