I'm another member of the 60 strong english group mentioned in various other reviews. I had ordered the risotto and got a dish of sawdust. The local driver cafe would not allow it to go to table. The Patron obviously had a very low opinion of english tastes - perhaps he ought to come over and see what we're used too these days. In the meantime I'm off to make a real risotto!

I was also unfortunate to be a member of the group of 60 reported by others. While the downstairs restaurant in the hotel appeared to serve a what sounded a perfectly delicious set price meal for €35 our meal for €32 was a disgrace. One slice of smoked salmon, four or five pieces of chicken in a thin sauce with a timbale of rice that had been in the oven long enough to go brown on the bottom and crispy on the outside and a small square of Tarte Normande, clearly cut from a large slab with three centimeters of appalling, rough edged pastry on two edges. The hotellier agreed to drop the price to €27 - still an absoulte disgrace. In an personal appearance in the dining room, he appeared to say that he was not used to cooking to suit the taste of the British - insulting and unacceptable.

We had dinner at the restaurant at this hotel. It was the worst meal I have ever had at a French restaurant. Or any restaurant. Anywhere. Ever.
Wine ordered was not available. Wine provided was digusting and over-priced.
The food was absolutely dreadful. Mean portions, cold and tasteless.
The servcie was very slow.
The patron was offensive.
Do not dine here. Take a sandwich.

I had the misfortune to book the dining salon in this hotel for a meal for 60 people. The menu agreed upon was nothing remotely like the food which arrived on the tables. After lukewarm apperitifs and stale crisps, a feta cheese salad came without feta cheese; the chicken main course was just about good enough for an alley cat, and instead of the dauphinois potatoes and fresh green beans promised, it came in a globuled sauce, with rock hard, overcooked rice, and no fresh veg of any variety. The strawberry tart promised by the lady of the house was slabs of apple on puff pastry, served with cold custard. Upon politely requesting what had been ordered, the owner told us to shut up, eat up, and pay up, or he'd call the Police. Oh how several of us wished that he'd done so! He was more concerned on criticising the English for not appreciating French cuisine, and not being able to play football! The toilet facilities were beyond the pale, the ambience non existent, the waitresses very sweet and as friendly as they could be, but she who had promised me the earth, was conveniently absent, and her husband was unbelievably rude and obnoxious. However, the whole evening turned into a comic opera in its own right, helped by one of the diners holding her plate under the owner's nose and daring him to eat it (he did not, of course). Dinard lives on its reputation of having been très chic, but actually it's just any other seaside resort, ripping off tourists just like many of them do! On an other recent occasion, I was charged 4:50 euros for a coffee down by the beach. When I questioned the amount, saying it was too expensive, I was told very snootily: "non Madame, c'est pas chèr, c'est Dinard!" Well we all know what we can do, don't we. Oh yes, Dinan is just twenty minutes down the road and oh what a difference!