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The dreaded “fine.” That’s how we feel about perennially popular Muriel’s. We want to fall in love with, or at least in, their romantic, red-walled dining rooms, and pose on the elegant balconies overlooking Jackson Square. We want to ooh over the crawfish and goat-cheese crêpes, like others seem to do. But except for the admittedly fab atmosphere there’s just nothing especially inspired or inspiring here, on the plate or working the floor. So we opt for the safety of the pan-roasted half-chicken or the three-course table d’hôte menu (value priced at $38). Visit the ghost’s table, have your palm read in Jackson Square, and the night is still a good one. Lunch here is a waste of atmosphere. Reserve in advance during peak periods.