The restaurant “La Table De Colette” is on a vineless street making getting to the location difficult. It had just recently opened the moment I turned the corner, as I have no object permanence.

When I walked inside, I was immediately struck by how brilliantly the muted front of the entrance gave way to a splendid, yet cozy dining room lit by delicate candles in ornate, mismatching, but unified sconces. I was also immediately struck by one of the sconces thrown by a waitress in the back. This was a troubling first impression of the waitstaff and I prepared myself for another one-star review.

I waited for over five minutes at the hostess station before anyone came to seat me. Finally, a harried-looking gentleman came toward me. There must have been an accident in the back because he was waving a broom at me trying to explain himself. I hooted a monkey laugh to let him know it was no trouble and that I only needed a table for one. Unbelievably, he turned and ran back to the kitchen! Very rude! So I decided to take one of the empty tables for myself and wait to be served.

I was delighted to see that the restaurant offered utensils of a variety I knew only a few like myself could wield. Sharp ones and pokey ones and some that fogged up when you blew on them, as is polite. What fun! What class!

The atmosphere was quite lively, guests were jumping up on tables and brandishing their utensils, just like my dinners at home in the jungle. I have spent too much time in the circus, how I missed the dignity of dining!

When no waiter came to take my order I asked to taste my neighbors who happily flung themselves out of the way and onto the floor. Quite generous, the French. For the first course, the oyster bisque was marvelous but perhaps some pureed banana would have added the extra zing the dish was missing. My entrée, grilled black sea bass, was so delicious I just had to put my hands in the air then bang on my head and then the table a few times. Though I would like to see some more variety added to the menu, maybe a giant banana that I could slide into my mouth in one bite and then toss the peel over my shoulder.

For dessert, I sampled the banana pudding which I found wanting.

The walls of La Table are decorated with vintage images of exotic locales, I was pained to learn that these images were actually paintings and not portals to the locations shown. The price of rising costs in the industry! I was also elated and then immediately scandalized to see an orangutan of equal weight and height staring right at me. A threat!

I shrieked at the stranger to leave me and my friends alone and he shouted right back, the nerve. After some coaxing, I was able to get my dining partners to begin screaming as well for a more unified front. But cooler heads prevailed! Thanks to my limited self-recognition, I realized the interloper was my own reflection. To be sure, I smeared jam on my forehead, as I had been previously schooled in the matter. I tested my companions as well to be absolutely sure and I was so wonderfully impressed with how still they sat while I applied the marker.

The jam is excellent and goes well with the baked sea salt crackers supplied. Complimentary at that!

It was disappointing how infrequently my water was refilled, considering how often I spilled the contents of my cup all over the other patrons. I also would have preferred that instead of palm trees along the walls that they had planted banana trees with real fruit. It would have added a certain je ne sais quoi.

Unfortunately, the evening ended in embarrassment when my long chimp arms got stuck in a children’s booster seat and my ringmaster had to come retrieve me. The staff members cheered as I left. Quite rude, the French.

I give it two orangu-stars.


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