When chef François Maeder came to town more than three decades ago, his cuisine seemed new, and he further seduced us with a creative bakery. But 30 years on, little seems to have changed, at least not for the better. The pâté maison, a creamy rendition with fowl livers, veal, and pork, remains acceptable, but the presentation is entirely perfunctory. The house salad dressing, heavy on the tarragon, is thankfully served on the side. The bread brought to the table consists of garlic-buttered rolls…perhaps the largely senior clientele likes it that way.

Lack of change in the décor may also be comforting to some, but a beautiful outdoor setting can only go so far. And we think it’s a shame that a laudable rack of lamb with Dijon and rosemary should be crammed onto a too-small plate with good pommes rissollées, but perfunctory steamed broccoli and carrots—and mint jelly. The wine list is also perfunctory, with very few selections by the unfortunately small glass.

The coup de grâce comes with dessert, in one instance an unexpectedly dense chocolate mousse cake that was served too cold, tasted of refrigerator, and was simply slammed onto a pedestrian plate.

Did we say perfunctory?