Lost City Asks "Who Goes to Les Sans Culottes"?

Once a month, I have occasion to meet some colleagues at Felidia, the celebrated Italian restaurant on E. 58th Street. Each time, when I exit and make my way down Second Avenue, I pass by the weird old relic known as Les Sans Culottes, a French throwback that couldn't be more different from the contemporary, polished Felidia. Les Sans Culottes has collected more eccentricity in a mere 32 years than this City should bestow on a restaurant. I suspect it was never grand, the way other neighboring French places like Le Veau d'Or, were. It was always a little kooky, a little kitschy. It's endearing to its regulars, though, I dare say. And those sausage trees!

Here is my take on Eater.

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