The nadir of my dining in Paris so far is a joint right across from Notre Dame at the end of the Petit Pont. There’s a string of several outdoor cafes; good for a beer, bad for food. Should have run away with I saw they proudly advertised “salad served in a bowl made of bread!”. Nasty day old pizza dough, inedible. And the salade nicoise was lacking in all the goodness that makes a French salad. Hey, they’re not all good.