I came to El Tomate as part of last year's Taste of the Mission Week (TotMW). It was toward the end…read moreof my week, and I had been doing a fairly good job of sticking to my sampling rather than blowing off a lot of it like I often do. (I definitely did this year.)
Maybe it was because this was the first TotMW after moving out of the Mission, but I was kind of emotional all week. When I walked in, I don't know why I expected to be welcomed or acknowledged with a smile, so it made me a little bit sad how sheepishly the woman working approached me. I told her, "Table for one," or "It's just me," but she seemed not to understand me. "Solo uno para aqui," I finally said in my mangled Spanish, and she pointed to a booth and went to grab a menu.
She was unusually bad at pretending she understood English. I'm used to going places and being the only gringo. I'm also used to being greeted in the most heavily accented English before I utter a word when everyone else gets Spanish. That's fine. I'm also used to being treated more briskly than others. But usually, people at least try to speak English. Or they pretend they understand more than they do. Or they're happily confident. Or confidently happy. Or they apologize profusely. This woman was and did none of those things, and even when I was ordering with a menu in my hands and was pointing directly at what I wanted, she was having trouble asking follow-up questions and even acknowledging what I had said. Again, I understand that she didn't speak English, and I understand that I was on 24th Street and that probably 90 percent of the people who eat at El Tomate speak Spanish. But it got ridiculous, especially with her standing at the counter and watching me, as if she was afraid to be in the same room with me. When she brought out my food, I asked for water in Spanish, and she kept looking at me strangely until I asked in English, and then she repeated it in Spanish. (I don't have the best Spanish accent, but it's better than the non-native speakers who actually speak Spanish but don't even try to sound like they're not speaking English.)
The food was fine. I honestly don't remember what I had. It was probably three stars.
Not long after I started eating, a group of four came in, and the woman smiled and started chatting with one of the women in the group. They clearly knew each other, so it didn't make me jealous, but she also kept looking over at me while talking to this new woman, and the group of four went on to have a very loud and slightly entertaining Spanglish conversation that I understood probably 59 percent of. The server was all over this group of four, refilling their water many more times than she did mine, talking to them, even bringing them their bill before she brought mine, despite the fact that they were still eating and she had already taken away my plates and utensils.
When I sat down, one other man had just finished his breakfast, and he soon left. So in the maybe thirty total minutes I spent here, there were three parties, a total of six people. She wasn't taking or preparing phone orders or on her phone or busy with side work or busy with anything.
It was a surreal, uncomfortable experience. I won't be back.