Everett Street Bistro sports white woodwork, attractive café tables, woven chairs, and tiled surfaces, aiming for an airy French look—which is mostly carried off. The gleaming glass case of pastries also kind of gives it away. Large windows let in lots of daylight, and it’s great for pretty-people watching.

But where a French bistro has a more focused, succinct menu, this one goes overboard trying to have something for everyone. And portions are huge. In other words, it’s too American to be European. The result is a dilution of success; many things are fine, but that’s it.

And it’s hard to escape the pretentiousness of calling it a “Composed Seafood Salad.” If it were a legitimate French salade composée, to which this seems to be a reference, it would be a lot more interesting than this mediocre rendition; it’s really more of a ceviche, with citrus and avocado. But we’ve rarely seen a ceviche approach this sky-high price.

Unable to leave well enough alone, the kitchen wallops pasty french fries with mouth-burning whole roasted garlic. Grand Marnier French toast is soaked in custard, and is candy sweet, if that’s your thing. Scrambles are pretty forgettable, which we could understand at a cheaper, shabbier café or diner. But when people come to a gleaming, Old-World-charming so-called “bistro,” don’t they want to recall having eaten there?

French onion soup is fine, but even the comforting saltiness of the broth can’t make the high price feel worthwhile—not when you can get a bowl of pho that’s three times bigger for less.

Classic cocktails are made with the right ingredients, but not the best ingredients; in a city full of fresh-squeezed juices, homemade simple syrups, and small-batch bitters in a variety of flavors, this literal translation feels kind of outdated. Not that we condone fussing with a Manhattan, but this bar is all about martini glasses and sugar rims. These days, it’s hard to take anyone seriously who uses Midori in house cocktails.

Given that the place only opened a few years ago, Everett’s mentality seems markedly out of step with the ambitious kitchens and bars all over town trying to make simple food better, and for less. Here, almost exactly the opposite seems to be the goal. And good luck figuring out which menus are served at which hours. For that matter, good luck even being seated; on slow nights, the kitchen will close early, leaving those who show up at 9:40pm in the awkward position of either having to go elsewhere or risk pissing off the staff. We’ll take our chances elsewhere.