I took my wife out for a belated Valentine's Day dinner tonight. I had to see patients all day yesterday, she had to teach, so we skipped the exact day of the holiday to be fully energized for our rare night out. I found this place online yesterday between patients and thought she'd like it. We aren't from here, so I figured I could trust the internet rating (silly me!) and try an unknown spot that would have food she would appreciate. That's the background, folks. Now for the experience itself, and trust me, it's not a magical one.
They sat us in a back corner as if we had leprosy. Now, as a mixed-race couple who's driven through the South, we're pretty used to a little ignorance. But even Waffle House has good chow to go with the attitude you might encounter, you know?
Whatever, we sat down and I enjoyed the setting sun blasting me in my eyes as we waited for our server. The wait wasn't excessively long, I will give them that. Mike, our server, showed up, made some small talk and took our intial order with no issues. We got an appetizer and a salad and relaxed in our corner like abused puppies on a Sally Struthers ad while we waited.
I noticed the Maitre'd/house manager/whatever going over to various tables around us to say hello and see how the meal tasted, which is the norm at most places I have been to around the country. He didn't stop at our table, but I thought to myself that maybe it was because we hadn't had any food yet.
Anyway, the appetizer and salad came and we dug in. My wife got a caeser salad, which she said was quite delicious. We split the seafood dip, which was...strange. They served it with some extremely salty fried pita chips and I swear I think there were potatoes mixed into the dip. Not a great start, but not terrible. No maitre'd yet, but maybe he was just pacing himself.
Entree time. I ordered rockfish, she ordered garlicky shrimp linguine, which was described as having fennel as an ingredient. Bear with me now, I'm telling you that for a reason.
My fish was a filet and it had a bone in it which almost killed me. My wife asked afterwards why I didn't say anything to her, and I explained that I was too busy trying not to die. Whatever, I am still alive and writing, so I guess I dodged a bullet.
Her entree had pieces of onion that looked as if the chef cut them with his feet or while wearing casts on both hands. The shrimp were cooked well, but remember the fennel I mentioned earlier? Yeah, I kind of expect fennel to be chopped if you choose to use it in a dish. I mean, to me, it's only good for sausage, but what do I know? Anyway, they put a whole bulb of fennel in her dish and sent it on out to her. Wow, that was unexpected and no, she did not like it.
By the time we finished, talked with Mike some more, decided against dessert, solved the problems of the world and finished our taxes, the maitre'd STILL hadn't made the attempt to drop by and check on us. I paid the tab, thanked Mike, and we made the move to the door.
Guess who we ran into? You guessed it, faithful reader, the maitre'd. He was standing in the middle of floor telling some hapless employee that he needed to clean up a large spill of water and ice in front of him, which also happened to be the only way out of the restaurant. Did he speak to us? Ask about the experience or the food? No, he did not. He turned his head, looked my wife dead in the eye, and resumed his conversation with the employee.
I'm no attorney, but I'm pretty sure that if you have no sign telling people to be aware of a fall hazard or can't be bothered to tell them to be careful, you're on the hook for some sort of lawsuit if they fall on their butts. There's a time where your lack of couth shouldn't be greater than your financial awareness, friend.
Anyway, that's my take. Mike was great, the food was mediocre at best, and the auxiliary staff including said head honcho might be in need of some bias training or at least, a talk with risk management. read more