My party of 3 spent over $250 at a restaurant where a tiny, animated chef makes your food it wasn't really worth the price

Le Petit Chef is an international dining experience featuring the world's "smallest chef."

About 2 1/2-inches tall, the animated French cook moves around your table and prepares your upscale, multi-course meal with the help of 3D projection mapping.

I was very curious about this restaurant's blend of tech and food — complete with themed music, vibrant lighting, and five gastronomical courses — so I dined at the location in Ontario, Canada, with my husband and baby.

There are over 35 Le Petit Chef locations around the world and on Celebrity cruise ships that feature unique menus.

Currently, the only outpost in North America is in Ontario, Canada, specifically in a suburb about an hour north of downtown Toronto.

It was difficult to land a reservation. I needed to book about a month in advance, and even then, I could only snag a Monday night. I also paid a deposit of around $80 Canadian dollars, or about $58, to secure my spot.

The price of the meal was also steep. The experience costs CA$129.99 per adult, before tax and the serving charge.

And even though my baby is an infant and would be unable to eat most of the food, we still had to pay CA$64.99 for her kids' meal.

Surprisingly, the restaurant was inside Jokers Comedy Club.

We had to pay for our meal in full when we arrived at the check-in desk, though I'm used to simply receiving the bill at the end.

Then we were led to the back of the comedy club and brought to a separate, enclosed theater modeled after a French wine cellar.

It had a cozy ambiance with cushy chairs, intimate mood lighting, spacious tables, and decorative wine shelving in the back.

I first noted all of the projector screens hanging above us, which were strategically positioned over the plates.

The show was synced for everyone dining, so we were delayed about 10 minutes by a few late arrivals.

The first course began with a warm welcome from the namesake chef. Our white table and plates were transformed into an animated farmscape with the tiny cook.

We soon learned that each course began with a skit, in which the star chef would get into all sorts of trouble to make our food.

Our first course was a salad, and I surprisingly enjoyed the cute animated character squeaking and squealing in French as he dealt with a mole that was trying to steal the vegetables from his garden.

Once the skit ended, the lights got slightly brighter, yet the farm backdrop remained on the table. Then the waitstaff brought out our physical salads.

The pretty salad had vine-ripened tomatoes, buffalo mozzarella, frisée lettuce, radishes, sweet basil, extra-virgin olive oil, and an aged balsamic reduction.

Unfortunately, it was a bit of a letdown. I didn't taste the dressing on the greens, so they were quite dry and bitter. Plus the tomatoes didn't seem ripe enough.

But the cheese helped the course. It was squishy, soft, and fun to eat.

Our infant, who was receiving the kids' meal, got a Casar salad. We weren't able to give her the lettuce or crumbled bacon since she doesn't have full-sized teeth yet.

She nibbled at the croutons and licked up some of the cheese on the lettuce.

I tried a bit of her salad and thought it tasted lackluster.

Once our plates were cleared, the music got louder and the lights dimmed.

The second course was soup, and the skit took place in the middle of the ocean, with the chef entering the scene on a jet ski.

He threw some ingredients into the pot — in this case, our plate — until he had to duel an octopus. The creature's tentacles later ended up in the seafood soup.

The skit was very tongue-in-cheek, sassy, funny, and lighthearted, plus I was engaged in the story.

The staff told us our seafood bisque contained East Coast lobster, shrimp, and octopus.

My husband immediately mentioned how delightful his octopus was, but when I looked through my soup for some, it wasn't there. Considering the skit beforehand, this felt anticlimatic. But the staff quickly amended the mistake.

I tried my new soup and was immediately impressed. The seafood was delicately sweet, tender, and succulent, plus the dish had a velvety texture and robust notes of umami.

I also tried my daughter's soup — described as Italian tomatoes and Spanish onions with a touch of cream — but thought it was very sour.

My daughter also didn't seem to enjoy the bite she had.

The next skit revolved around the third course's primary ingredient — chicken.

There was comedy in spades. The tiny chef left his outdoor tent in his birthday suit, then squeaked in shock when he realized he was naked.

He pulled ingredients out of the tent like it was Mary Poppin's bag, but also scavenged for other ingredients and used a magnifying glass to make a fire to cook with. This led to even more funny antics.

I understood why the restaurant was in a comedy club.

The third dish was chicken ballotine stuffed with goat cheese, pine nuts, spinach, and roasted red peppers.

The chicken was small but packed a lot of flavor, though I couldn't detect the pine nuts. The dark meat was tender and tasty, and the filling was minimal, yet prominent, especially with the cheesy tang.

The dish didn't even need the cabernet-truffle demi sauce it came with, but it made the meal even more decadent.

But the course was missing starch and vegetables to balance out the plate. I kept wanting something to refresh my palate.

Meanwhile, my daughter's third course — panfried gnocchi with Alfredo sauce, Reggiano Parmesan, and black pepper — was a hit.

The pasta was so rich and well made. It was al dente, so it wonderfully retained its shape.

My daughter also really enjoyed it. She'd grab a piece of gnocchi, tear it, and gnaw on it.

Up until this point, our dining experience was serene and peaceful, but around 7 p.m., a comedian at the comedy club performed some sketches on the stage beside the restaurant.

The crowd was quite boisterous, and I heard a lot of echoes and mic feedback from the nearby performance, which wasn't ideal.

I was mildly concerned my daughter's patience was waning, but she seemed somewhat interested in watching the little chef run around the table to make our next meal.

He attempted to grill our meat but things went awry again and everything went up in smoke.

Our final main was grilled filet mignon with peppercorn sauce, honey-glazed carrots, broccoli, and mashed parsnip. Even though I expected mashed potatoes, per the menu, the plate looked perfect.

The steak was medium rare as I requested, but I thought the sauce was too salty. I didn't want to eat much more after one bite.

I happily devoured the vegetables, which were crisp and refreshing.

My daughter's course was chicken fingers and fries, which seemed out of place in the upscale restaurant.

In general, I felt the kids' menu could've been stronger. It seemed like more of an afterthought but was still pricey. Plus none of the courses lined up with the skits.

After about an hour and a half, it was time for dessert. The tiny chef made a flawless crème brûlée.

However, several of the ingredients included in the skit — like saffron — weren't in our actual dessert. This was the first time the skit didn't fully line up with our course.

We were served crème brûlée with Tahitian vanilla custard, a burnt turbinado-sugar crust, and fresh berries.

My husband and I cracked into the golden-brown crust to find a creamy, yet not-too-sweet custard filling.

The dessert was sophisticated and a great way to end the evening.

My daughter's dessert was a surprise hit. She got crepes with French vanilla ice cream, poached pears, whipped cream, and chocolate sauce.

She wasn't really interested in eating this, but my husband was fully enamored with it and ate it instead of his crème brûlée.

There was a bonus, surprise skit for people celebrating birthdays in the room, but it was a bit poorly coordinated.

Since we already had our physical desserts, we had to set them aside to properly see the chef.

Still, it was a nice touch and we enjoyed watching the chef make little cupcakes. After, the staff brought out the extra dessert to those celebrating.

About two-and-a-half hours in, we had one final show.

It was akin to the end credits of a movie, but in style with the rest of the evening.

The tiny gentleman thanked us for joining him and explained how the creators and technology of Skullmapping (the 3D projection system) were the reason we could enjoy this experience.

Even though the experience was enjoyable, it didn't feel worth the price. The little skits were adorable, but the food was a bit hit-or-miss for me.

I hoped for more consistency and quality across the board at that price point, especially when it came to my daughter's food. I understand that, as an infant, she wasn't able to eat everything on her plate but it was a bit underwhelming to see what kids were served.

I think a bit more thought should've been put into the kids' menu since, when we dined, about 40% of the room was filled with children.

Overall, if the skits and menus changed I might feel incentivized to go again. Whether or not I recommend this experience to someone will also depend on their income level and definition of a fun night out.