Just beyond where Rue de l’Ancienne Comedie turns into Rue Mazarine, tucked in on the left side (as you walk towards the Seine) is a doorway proclaiming itself “Top Chef Alcazar”. It was the human male’s birthday, and Milady went to great lengths to secure a proper dinner reservation, but L’Atalier de Joel Robouchon was only willing to sit us on the male’s next birthday, not this one. The conceirge had made a backup reservation at Alcazar and noting the “Top Chef” designation, we strolled off to dinner down by the riverside. (It’s not actually at the riverside, but it is a whole lot closer to it than the hotel.)

Arriving far too early (by Parisian standards) at this enormous restaurant, we were seated at a nice enough table in the English language section (we could tell because menus were in English and had a little red dot on the cover to distinguish them). Milady had a pleasant view of the kitchen, and I rubbed shoulders with the waiters every time they needed a basket of bread or clean silver. Our waiter was charming, and clearly an American intent on making his bones (an unfamiliar phrase? See The Godfather by Mario Puzo for a contextual explanation) as a real restauranteur by working in Paris. He was terrific, despite the occasional accentual lapse, and really took making our dinner pleasant seriously. We ordered a 2009 Burgundy, Givery 1er Cru, “Clos Jus”, Vincent Lumpp which was one of a number of reasonably priced offerings on the wine list. The waiter returned with the 2011, explaining there was no 2009 remaining. When I gave him a look and resumed examining the list, he mumbled something about “one more place to check” and returned with the correct vintage a few minutes later. Unlike the 2011 (which we feared would be too young), this one was ready to drink – a refreshing taste of bing cherries, and a lightness attributable to a relatively low alcohol content (13%), with a hint of spearmint on the palate as it finished.

The dinner menu is interesting. (No, not in the sense of the ancient Chinese curse, “May you live in interesting times.”) The entrees (French, throughout Paris and perhaps the rest of the civilized world, for starters or appetizers) are pretty standard – Milady chose the “King Prawn Salad with Mango and White Asparagus”, and I went for the “Burgundy Snails (6)”. There isn’t much one can do when presenting traditionally prepared snails – the little silver tray with depressions, the small pointed fork, and the snail holder that looks like an instrument of medieval torture – but the kitchen should have the self respect to make sure the snail shells are unburned and intact. (For the uninitiated, the snails are prepared outside the shells and placed in separately purchased, reuseable shells, for soley for the purposes of making an attractive presentation of the dish. When exposed to an open flame for too long, the shells burn, and when heated in the oven before serving, they fracture at the back, exposing the snail. The sous-chef should really rescue the snail, reshell it, and then place it for serving. It didn’t happen that way this evening.) To be fair, they were delicious, tender and very tasty, if lacking the assertiveness one would normally expect in the garlic butter. The king prawns were presented head on, sitting attractively on a bed of white asparagus and dotted with small pieces of mango. The saucing was mild, but accentuated the mango and asparagus flavors.

Milady loves fish, and Alcazar featured a dish described as “wild cod.” The cod was firm, precisely cooked and delicately flavored. The saucing was decidedly timid, a milk emulsion with no distinguishing characteristics other than its completely successful desire to be inoffensive. The stalks of bitter green vegetable material topping the presentation were probably there just for color. I ordered the filet de boeuf with peppercorn sauce, medium rare. The beef was flavorful and tender – unfortunately the kitchen apparently lacks a hot enough flame to crust the exterior of the filet, and the sauce au poivre (which had a nice balance to it) somehow congealed almost immediately after the plate was set in front of me. Plopped in the middle of the plate like a failed floating island, surrounded by “skinned” sauce, the dish failed to achieve its potential. French fries, served on the side, could have provided a platform, improving the visual qualities of the most expensive item on the menu. A “Top Chef” presentation this was not.

Desserts also fell short of expectations, if not also short of their potential. The vacherine of strawberry and liquorise was beautiful to behold – bright strawberry sorbet and a very mild anise sorbet separated by layers of wonderful meringue, topped with chantilly (real whipped cream) left me feeling the flavors had been “dumbed down” so as not to offend the diner with their assertiveness. The “Bourbon Vanilla Millefeuille” had only two major shortcomings. The millefeuille pastry had been left in the oven too long, developing a distinctly burnt flavor (though it looked only very slightly darker than expected, it was actually the only assertive flavor of the evening) and a complete absence of bourbon vanilla flavor in what might have passed for a second-rate cannoli cream, lacking both richness and texture. It wasn’t bad, just not what one expected given the “Top Chef” design.

Certainly edible, but just as certainly, a disappointment. (The wine, however, was wonderful.)