French Pub — Restaurant in Town of Cheektowaga

What a horrible experience.

We went for dinner the other night and it might have been the worst dinner ever. Not so much for the food, although it was pretty bad, but for the intentionally bad service tht was as cliche as it gets if one were to imagine the cook spitting on your food.

My wife had been there before and suggested it. We looked online and their menu looked good as did the prices. But when we got there, the items we were looking for weren't on the menu. I asked and was told in way as if to say, you should have known, that their menu was different in the Summer. Their prices were a lot higher too. Maybe someone could update their online menu? Menu's change and we know that, but don't make it as if we were at fault for it. Customers don't usually get treated like that right off the bat.

We ordered our food and my wife had the French onion soup which was actually very good. My daughter loved her French dip too. My fried bologna sandwich however was so salty I only could get through half of it. That's a result of buying cheap bologna, yuck. Having it sit in a puddle of grease wasn't terribly appetizing either.

The worst part was my wife's burger. Something that is hard to screw up. She ordered it medium rare but it might as well have been mooing on the plate. It was completely raw, as in health department violation, cold and mushy. So we waited for our waitress, and waited. She never came back, so I finally got up and went to the bar to ask for her. I had to wait however because there were two women who were supposed to be offering samples of bourbon as some kind or promotion, but they were too busy knocking them hack themselves. They were blocking access to the bar even though they saw me standing there wanting to talk to the bar maid. It just went along with the whole experience that the customer really didn't matter.

In any event my wife eventually ordered another burger and the rest of us finished our dinners and waited, and waited. We decided to just cancel it and just as I got to the kitchen door to tell someone, our waitress finally (20-25 minutes on a re-fire of a burger) brought it out. The restaurant was almost empty by now, so what took so long? Spitting on the burger I suspect.

We asked for a box because by now we just wanted to leave. My wife fortunately decided she would cut into the burger to check it. It's a good thing she did because she wouldn't have known how the cook was going to show us his displeasure for having to redo it. And show us he sure tried. It was burned beyond recognition. He had to know it was brutally overdone so the only explanation was that it was on purpose. Boy, did he show us, snicker..... it was so crisp my wife couldn't cut it and it was black and tiny becuase it was so burnt.

Yes, he showed us. I'm curious how many times he dropped it on the floor too. Sadly he didn't show us, we just decided we will never go...

Walking into French Pub in 2025 felt like Marcus Freeman himself was holding the door open and whispering, “Welcome to glory, soldier.” I sat down, ordered a beer, French onion soup, and pizza logs, and suddenly realized I wasn’t just in Amherst—I was in the middle of a live scrimmage between my taste buds and destiny. The beer hit me like CJ Carr dropping a 50-yard bomb straight into Jaden Greathouse’s hands. Cold, crisp, and perfectly timed like a third-down conversion to Jordan Faison. I swear when I took my first sip, I heard Xavier Watts in the background yelling, “LOCKDOWN!” while guarding my happiness like it was a deep ball in the Fiesta Bowl. Then the French onion soup arrived, steaming like Howard Cross breaking through the O-line. The cheese stretch was as long as Benjamin Morrison’s interception return, and every spoonful had more grit than Jack Kiser on a blitz. It wasn’t just soup—it was a goal-line stand in a bowl, with onions caramelized like the patience of Audric Estime waiting to hit the perfect gap in 2023 (yeah, I time-traveled my hunger backwards). But the pizza logs—oh, sweet baby Jerome Bettis, the pizza logs. They were so good I half-expected Marcus Freeman to challenge Miami to a rematch right there in the dining room just to celebrate. Crispy outside, molten cheese inside, like Nolan Ziegler flying downhill and blowing up a screen play. I dunked one into the marinara and swore I saw Mitchell Evans spiking the sauce like it was a touchdown in South Bend. The vibe of the French Pub in 2025 was less “local bar” and more “Notre Dame practice facility where God himself signs autographs.” The walls felt like they were painted with grit, determination, and maybe a little hot sauce. Every bite I took echoed the energy of Joe Otting pancaking a defender, and every sip of beer reminded me of Riley Leonard scrambling out of the pocket with the poise of a man who also appreciates affordable appetizers. By the end of my meal, I was convinced the French Pub kitchen staff were secretly the Notre Dame offensive line—moving as one unit, executing flawlessly, protecting my hunger like Blake Fisher protecting CJ Carr. The bartender? Might’ve been Jaden Mickey in disguise, intercepting my thirst every single time before it became a turnover. Final thought: French Pub in 2025 isn’t just a restaurant. It’s a dynasty. A cathedral of beer, soup, and pizza logs. If Notre Dame wins the national championship this year (which they will—sorry Miami, sit down), they should host the parade right through the dining room. Five stars. French Pub 2025 forever. Play Like A Champion Today, Eat Like A...

This is a place we visited many times but it seems things have went down hill. Maybe it's just a fluke, but we're done.The food has been off the past couple times we've visited.

Last night our waiter gave us horrible service, one of his friends or relatives came in and he was focused on them the whole time even though we were literally sitting at the table right next to them. He brought our food out late and cold and never once asked how we were doing. At this point our 16mo old daughter had had enough. Most places when they see you have a toddler try there best not to keep you waiting. Mind you our daughter comes out all the time with us and is usually very well behaved.

Now for the food. The soup of the day was chicken wing soup. It tasted like a bowl of Frank's hot sauce, neither my wife or myself could finish it, it was so spicy. The lettuce at the salad bar was almost all iceberg lettuce, with the usual salad bar toppings. When our food finally did come out, my burger, which was the "new" French onion burger on the specials menu, and I specifically order medium rare, was very well done and tasted like it had been fried on a dirty cooktop twice. In addition, the seasoning and combination of ingredients, such as a brioche roll, which was way too sweet for a burger, did not match well. My wife's fish fry was medeocre. Our waiter continued to ignore us and finally one of the waitresses asked if we needed something and sent the manger over, who was apologetic. None of us finished our meals. I remember our last visit there the food was medeocre at best too. To top it all off we all went home with stomach aches, my wife and daughter threw up their dinners and I spent all night rolling in bed with indigestion, burping and farting disappointed I hadn't also thrown up my food!

Sorry French Pub, something in your kitchen needs to change before we're interested in coming back. Your creative list of specials is more like playing Russian roulette than eating dinner and there's not much else on the menu to order. A small menu is fine, but do it well and do it...