Black and Orange – Washington, DC

In DC for a business meeting, I decided to blow off the cocktail party and go for a walk – to the Jefferson Memorial.  In all of the years that I’ve been traveling to the Capitol, I have been fortunate enough to see most of the monuments except for those on the southern-most side of the National Mall.   Seven and half miles, two hours, the Jefferson Memorial, the King Memorial and the FDR Memorial later, I found myself walking back past the White House and getting hungry.  

A couple of years back, I had pulled a list of great DC burger places and we had knocked Tune Inn Restaurant, Ben’s Chili Bowl and Ray’s Hell Burger off the list.  The only one remaining on my list was Rogue States (from the US Today article):

Burger joints are popping up all over D.C., and Rogue States tends to fly under the radar.  The patties, grilled over mesquite and set on brioche buns, are standouts.  Try the eatery’s namesake burger, seasoned with cilantro and chipotles, or the Asian-accented Now & Zen with ginger and green onions.  It’s open until 5 a.m.

However, when I searched for them on-line to get the address before I left the hotel, I found that they had closed.  When I looked on-line for the best burgers in DC, Black and Orange Burger kept popping up. The address was the same as I had for Rogue States, and as I asked questions, I got more of the story – Rogue States had closed because of a ventilation issue with the office building above them.  When they resolved the issue (after installing new venting), they opened with a new name – representing the orange flame leaping off the black steel grill.  As it was kind of late when I got there, getting a table was no issue and, from the counter above, I ordered a heavyweight, No Burger, No Cry (house jerk blend, habanero peppers and red onions) burger with cheese and bacon and a side of fries. The burgerwas cooked to an excellent medium and the cheese was melted evenly across the top.  Their burgers are made in both welterweight (quarter pound) and heavyweight (half pound) sizes and are prepared by mixing other ingredients in with the beef, prior to cooking.

The fries were amazing –   a crunchy crust with a moist inside.  And there were enough of them in the cup to last through the burger.  Overall, it was good dinner and reasonably priced (for DC).

Vinings Inn – Atlanta, GA

As Saturday night was right around the corner, we were looking for a reasonable place for dinner with another couple, semi-close to home.  I consulted the oracle (open table) looking for a place in Vinings with a 6:30 reservation open and found a couple with availability at which we hadn’t eaten.  I did a quick check of the menus and decided on the Vinings Inn.

I have seen Vinings Inn (on that weird corner where West Paces Ferry turns down toward the river) for as long as I’ve been driving.  No surprise – the inn has been in that location since the 1880s, serving as a general store, a post office, a filling station and an inn.  It’s been a restaurant for as long as I can remember, but we’d never eaten there.

As this reservation was fairly early (later we would learn it was not_quite_early enough), we were shown into the dining room to the right of the main entrance, next to the outdoor patio.  This was a long thin room, seating maybe 40 at ten tables, ending in a room perpendicular to it, which seated another 25-30.  We were given a table for four at the third table from the back, by the patio.

Looking at the menu, I decided on the fried chicken, which was served with grits and brussel sprouts. When I ordered the chicken without brussel sprouts, our waiter (who hadn’t been particularly excited when we only ordered water) didn’t ask if I wanted a substitution.  Note: I found this odd, and I did mention it to Jo.

And then, the party of twelve arrived and were seated in the left corner.  They were late twenty- and early thirty-somethings, dressed for something (ties and heels – not on the same members of the party, thankfully) and started with a couple of bottles of wine.  The surly waiter, whom we shared with them, was suddenly very pleasant.  Toward them.  The bread arrived, along with a salad for one member of our party.  Jo asked the waiter for more water – her glass was half empty.  He brought back the pitcher, filled her glass and walked away (failing to notice my glass which was emptier than hers).  A few minutes later, as he walked to the other table, my dear wife said, “sir”, and he walked on by without turning towards us.  By this point, my glass is empty.  Four or five minutes later, the same thing happens.  Four or five minutes later, as the party of twelve is getting appetizers and progressively louder, he is walking toward them.  I am holding my empty water glass above my shoulder, out in the aisle.

Jo says, more loudly, “SIR”, and as he comes over to our table she is explaining, politely, that my water glass was also empty.  I, on the other hand, am ratcheting rapidly towards full jackass mode. He tells her that he didn’t notice that my glass was empty.  I wanted to yell that the reason he didn’t notice is because he didn’t look.  She explains, still politely, that even though we weren’t buying wine we deserved more of his attention.  Preach it with kindness!

A bit later, the food arrives. Somewhere during our meal, the door between our room and the one behind us closes.  I begin wishing for a door between our table and the next.  My chicken arrives:

It was perfectly fine.  But not what I expected.  Or what I thought that I ordered.  I ordered “buttermilk fried chicken, stone ground cheese grits without southern style brussel sprouts.”  Thank God that I didn’t get the sprouts, but I got a chicken cutlet, with a red wine sauce on grits, where I didn’t taste a bit of cheese.  Had the description more closely resembled the dish, I likely wouldn’t have ordered it.  Jo ordered the fish,

a pistachio crusted trout, with lemon butter sauce, baby carrots and wild rice pilaf.  It looked like what she ordered when it arrived and apparently tasted like it as well, as she cleaned her plate.  Meanwhile, the party of twelve has began scattering their conversation with loud profanity, causing several tables (including ours) to glare at them.  They’re oblivious.  We’d already decided that we were going to Yoforia for dessert, when the waiter (who has been much nicer since my beloved confronted him) explains that he’s comping a couple of desserts.  Okay, we’ll eat dessert here.  We decide to share the blackberry cobbler

which was okay, but not great.  The blackberries were good, the ice cream better, the cobbler worse.  Our dinner companions had the apple pie, which was, according to discussion in the car (it was too loud to discuss during dessert without yelling – which was okay for them, but not for us), lacking in apple.  Over all, the meal was good, but not great.   And there are several excellent places in Vinings that I’ll go to again before I return here.

Nam Phuong – Norcross, GA

For the last couple of years, every article that I read about food in Atlanta mentioned Nam Phoung, in Norcross.  When a friend and I were looking for a place to celebrate his birthday lunch, and I realized that Nam Phoung was between our offices, I suggested it and he thought it sounded like fun.  Even though this place is tough to get into from I-85 – it’s on the north side of Jimmy Carter Industrial Boulevard, which means that you have to make a right turn onto the south side of JCIB, so that you can make a left back onto JCIB westbound and pull into the parking lot (that years back was a Cub Foods and now contains a giant Asian grocery) where they are located on the west-most end – it was worthwhile.

We started with Hoanh thanh sup (wonton soup) that was excellent.   It portended good things to come.  The review I read on the Atlanta Magazine dining app said that the dish to try was Nam Phuong Ba Vi  (Nam Phuong’s Three Delights (for 2)) – sugarcane shrimp, pork strips and grilled betel leaves stuffed with spiced beef.   The two was a suggestions – three might have been better.

First the waiter arrived with what looked liked the bottom half of a two-sided plastic pie pan turned on its side (filled with warm water), along with a tray covered in thin rice paper and two bowls filled with dipping sauces – one hot and sour and the other peanut. 

Then the platter itself arrived

all the meats were on the front side, with rice vermicelli, surrounded by bok choy, fresh basil and cilantro, carrots, onion and lettuces.   The waiter actually instructed us into how to make these:

• First you dip the rice paper into the warm water and soften it;then
• you place it onto the plate, where
• you load it up with goodies from the giant tray, and, finally
• roll it tightly, like a spring roll or a burrito. 

They ended up being incredibly delicious.  The beef in the the grape leaves was interesting, and the pork filled ones (especially if you dipped them in the peanut sauce, if you ask my dining companion) were very good.  But the sugarcane shrimp were the best – and I’m not a huge shrimp fan.  I keeping looking for an opportunity to head back over there for lunch, with two other dining partners next time.

Minetta Tavern – NYC

As we were finishing up the weekend in New York, we headed down to Greenwich Village for Sunday brunch at Minetta Tavern.  For the majority of the weekend it had rained, so when we woke up and the sun was (almost) shining, we decided to walk the forty blocks to brunch.  Now these were short North-South blocks, not long East-West blocks, so it ended up only being a little less than two and half miles.  

While I was preparing for this trip, I learned that the Black Label burger is, apparently, something of a legend in New York.  When I had talked to a fellow in Brooklyn about something I was ordering was from, I asked him where the best burger was in NYC and he said, without hesitation, Minetta Tavern.  He then sent me the following link from NY Eater: 

This is the Citizen Kane of hamburgers: a complex, over-the-top masterpiece that’s enjoyable from beginning to end.  The patty is made from a mix of dry-aged strip, skirt steak, and brisket from Creekstone Farms.  The meat is rich and very funky, like any great dry-aged steak.  The caramelized onions add just a bit of sweetness.  The Black Label burger at Minetta Tavern is New York’s best burger, and probably always will be.

Minetta has been in the Village since 1937, on the ground floor of an apartment building, across the street from Cafe Wha? (where Hendrix played in the late 60s).  Taken over by Keith McNally in 2009, he has created a speakeasy feel.  Walking into the front door is like walking back in time: a long bar lines the left side, red leather booths line the right, and in back is a dining room packed with tables, with tie-clad servers in black and white scurrying about.  The walls were covered in a mural-like wall paper that laid out the history of the houses in the area.  

We were seated at a table for two, me on a banquette along the wall with Jo in a chair facing me.

the view from our tabletop, just as we were seated

These tables were so close together that the table had to be slid toward the middle of the restaurant so that I could sit.  So close that we became well acquainted with our neighbors (the couple to my right was from England and Minetta was on their food list / the mother and daughter to my left were visiting the city, celebrating a 29th birthday).  I had made a reservation about two weeks before we came to NYC and, boy, was I glad that I had done so – by noon, the place was packed. 

On a side note, looking down the banquette to our left, the guy about two tables down ordered bacon.  The last thing I intended to order was breakfast, but when I saw his bacon arrive, I had to order my own.  When it arrived,

it took all I could do, to keep from screaming (in my best over-the-top-Clash-of-the-Titans-voice) was, “Release the BACON!” 

We looked over the menu and debated the other dishes, including learning what “shirred eggs” were and deciding not to order them, but we had come for the burger.

We both ordered the Black Label burger,

Jo’s ordered hers medium-well, I ordered mine, simply, “medium”. 

You know that taste that comes with a dry-aged steak?  This was that, taken up a notch.  I had this burger with nothing on it – a perfect marriage of beef and bread.  It was one of the tastiest burgers I’ve ever eaten, pricy, but worth it.  And the fries were excellent, skinny, crispy and crunchy. 

By the time we walked the two and half miles back to the hotel, logging five miles for the morning, I would have thought I’d have been looking for more food, but I was still fairly full.  And reveling in the afterglow of that burger.

Adrienne’s Pizzabar – NYC

On a rainy Saturday morning, we headed down to the Financial District.  One of my co-workers had sent me a link to a pizza place that a friend of his said was the best in the city.  We didn’t really have any plans for the morning, so I googled them, found they didn’t have a website, and saw that they opened at 11:00.  We arrived on this little cobble stone street

about 10:50, with a fairly consistent drizzle falling.  We managed to kill ten minutes and walked up, pulled on the door and it didn’t budge.  Then I saw the sign that said that they didn’t open until 11:30.  How could the internet have been wrong?  The foundation of my world was crumbling, but that was another story…..

Now we had thirty minutes to kill, in the rain, with very few places open.  Jo, exhibiting the patience of Job, put up with my wandering around a four block radius for another thirty minutes (which included an extended visit inside a Duane Reade, where we went just to get out of the rain. In fact, it was such a good idea that an extremely wet terrier of some breed went through the automatic door ahead of us, which no one seemed to notice) until they opened.  When we arrived, we were (shockingly) the first customers. 

Adrienne’s is famous for their thin, rectangular “grandma-style” pizza, served primarily at lunch.  At dinner, round pizzas come into play from the ovens, but we went specifically for the rectangle.  Doing a bit of on-line research, it appears that grandma-stye pizza hit the New York restaurant scene in 2003.  There is an Italian term “pizza alla casalinga” (housewife-style pizza) which is also used to describe the grandma-style – it is the type of pizza that someone would make for you in their home if you came to visit.

Being at odds as to what to order (I’m a meat-o-mania, Jo is a veggie supreme), we compromised and ordered pepperoni, with mushrooms on (her) half.

Looks like a lot of pizza for two people, doesn’t it (this pan is actually covering the entire two-top at which we’re sitting)?

The pizza was thin and crispy, the cheese was gooey, the pepperoni and mushrooms were cooked to absolute perfection.  It was an excellent pizza.  We left one slice…

Burger Joint – NYC

I first heard about the Burger Joint in le Parker Meridian four or five years ago when I asked a business colleague where to find the best burger in NYC. I was shocked to hear that it was behind a giant velvet curtain, in the lobby of a fairly swank hotel, near Central Park. Then another friend sent me a link last week to a Zagat article about the best burgers in 25 cities and the Burger Joint was there as well. When I consulted my “bible” and found it there, as well, it became part of the plans for the weekend.

When we arrived in the lobby, there was no signage, but there was a line snaking around the corner of a curtain and down a hallway by the reception desk. So, here I stood a little before 1:00 on a Friday afternoon, waiting in line, beside that curtain. We asked the hotel concierge, whose desk was inconveniently (for him) located right beside the line what he thought the wait would be. He estimated 30 minutes. He was only off by 50%.

As we got closer to the neon burger, there were a line of boxes along the wall with flags on the front of them allowing visitors to fill out their order in their native tongue, then hand it over when they reached the counter. There was a family of five in front of us who were completing their orders in French and a Japanese couple shortly ahead of them handing their orders to the cashier.

Once we could see inside, the first big sign read Cash Only, followed by instructions on the most efficient way to order your burger (hamburger of cheeseburger – cooked how – what on it). These folks have this process down to a science – and that’s a good thing as there was little room for error. There was actually little room of any kind. The place was packed and there was constant table churn. Jo grabbed a table for us when she saw it open up while we were in line and someone was standing by our table, waiting for it, as soon as we stood.

The kitchen was small (4′ x 15′, maybe) staffed with four people. Three of whom are pictured below:

The lady on the left (you can only see her left arm) takes orders and money. Only. The man in the middle manned the grill (blocked by his body in this photo) and fed the white bread buns into the salamander at the top right. The lady in the hairnet was the “maker” – she read the orders, told the man whether she needed a medium rare cheeseburger or a well done hamburger and then placed on the condiments (lettuce, tomato, pickles, onion, ketchup, mayo, mustard), wrapped it in paper and handed it to the missing woman. Who then bagged and grabbed the fries and yelled the customer’s name for pickup.

We were sitting in the back right corner of the room, in front of this “don’t write on wall” wall, and the music was varied and loud, so I ended up standing near the counter, waiting to hear my name.  When she yelled for me, I took two paper wrapped burgers and a bag of fries to our table.

The Zagat review described it as “a cartoon Wimpy burger, brought to real life”. This is an extremely accurate description – the ingredients weren’t exceptional, but the gestalt made for an excellent burger.

JCT – Atlanta, GA

Several years back, before I started taking pictures of my food, we had dinner at JCT on a couple of occasions.  But I had never had their fried chicken.  As Ford Fry seems to be the “it ” chef in Atlanta right now, I’d seen several reviews in the last several months, all talking about how good the chicken was.  As we were heading downtown for a 9:00 ball game, I took this chance to sample it.

I was extremely grateful for their valet parking, as the lot that they share with Star Provisions, FIGO, Taqueria Del Sol and numerous shops was overflowing.  Fortunately, we had made a reservation as the place was packed when we arrived at 6:45.  We were seated at a table for two against the back wall in the dead center of the restaurant.  In fact, Jo commented on the “run way” behind me where she saw all of the food that was passing through.

We forwent the appetizers and started with the entrees.  Jo ordered one of the daily specials, amberjack, served on a bed of faro with carrots.  Carrots was an overstatement, as the dish appeared to have one baby carrot cut into a dozen small pieces amongst the plate-covering grain.  Being a carrot fan, she would have been happier with more carrots and less faro, but she cleaned her bowl.

I ordered the fried chicken and subbed macaroni and cheese for the red pea and collard greens it was paired with.  When it arrived, I had three good looking pieces of fried chicken (leg, wing and breast) with a giant bowl of Mac-n-cheese.

The chicken was very good.  I started with the drumstick, as the ratio of crunchy skin to chicken is near perfect.  Then, on to the wing.  There was one bite, at the top of wingette (the piece where the short drumstick of the wing joins the breast in an airline cut) that was the best single bite of fried chicken in I don’t know how long.  The breast was moist, tender and cooked through and through.  I see why everybody raves about this chicken – it was excellent. And at $17, I believe fairly priced.  The mac-n-cheese was very creamy and quite tasty.

Since we had some time, we decided that we would have desserts. Jo ordered a rum-soaked coconut cake

I went with the apple cobbler, a johnny cake crumble with bourbon ice cream.  When it arrived, it was definitely a share-able dish – it was big.  The top crust was just done enough to be crunchy and the body of the bowl was filled with thinly sliced apples.  The bourbon ice cream was definitely different.  It honestly tasted like Jim Beam in an ice cream form.  Not being a bourbon guy, I would have preferred a cinnamon, caramel or vanilla ice cream, so after a few bites, I swept it off to the side and finished off the pie.

All in all, a very good meal in west midtown.  And the place stayed full – we saw one table clear in the hour and a half that we were there.

SOHO – Vinings, GA

For Valentine’s Day, we were looking for a spot on the way downtown and SOHO was one of the places that popped up with an open reservation.  We actually attempted to eat there a couple of years ago – we even had a reservation.  But I confused where we I had made the reservation with where we went (Social, Vinings). I even made quite a scene about them not having my reservation at Social when we got there….

We arrived at 5:15 (for a 5:15 reservation) and there were eight to ten people sitting in the bar.  The hostess greeted us and said that she’d be right with us – there was a couple at the bar that she needed to seat first.  She wandered over, found them and led them to a table.  Then she came back to the hostess stand, looked at the computer and walked away.  Three minutes later she came back, looked at the seating chart on the computer again and went away.  This could be potentially understood if there was anyone in the restaurant.  Of the fifty plus tables, there were four tables with someone seated, including the couple that she just took.  A couple of minutes later she returns and tells us that she’s “smarter than the computer” and that she’s going to sit us somewhere where the server hasn’t just had someone seated.

She then walks us through the front of the restaurant where there were three couples seated.  We walk into the other area where there are 12-16 tables.  Only one of them is occupied, by a foursome with menus in there hands.  She sits us at the table right next to them.  We ask if we could take the table behind where we are.  Or in front of it.  She gets exasperated and says she’ll have to go back to the computer.  I express how ridiculous this seems, as there is no one on this side of the restaurant at all (except for the people next to us who haven’t ordered yet) and this is where she sits us to get the best service?  Ultimately, we move to the other end of the restaurant and the dinner finally begins.

We started with a cheese tray, which was priced very reasonably, with four cheeses, honey, a baguette, almond bread, grapes and a quince paste. The brie, top left, was the best of the lot, particularly tasty on the baguette.  Even better, when dipped in the honey.

Jo started with butternut squash soup. It was served in a giant bowl, was very hot and (according to her) quite tasty. I ordered the wagyu carpaccio, served with a creamy dijon sauce, asiago cheese, fried capers and crispy shallots.

The beef was sliced thin, as you’d expect, but I didn’t enjoy it, at all.   I ate a little over half – I think it was the dijon that killed the dish for me. 

For dinner, Jo ordered the braised cider beet salad (artisan greens, goat cheese, sliced pears and a citrus vinaigrette). She said that this was one of the better beet salads she’s had, of late. It didn’t surpass her favorite (Todd’s Token Salad at Muss & Turner’s), but she really enjoyed it.  I ordered the elk tenderloin (thinking of a glorious dinner at Rathbun’s), replacing the standard sweet potatoes with buttermilk mashed potatoes and the haricot verts with which it is paired.   

The green beans were French-style, fairly crispy but completely tasteless – I found it amazing that anything could have that little taste.  The mashed potatoes were fine, but nothing spectacular.  The elk was cooked medium rare, as requested, but I didn’t particularly enjoy it.  I think it was the raspberry and mustard marinade – apparently I like dijon mustard even less than I thought. 

I don’t know that I’d rush back for dinner again, but I’m not unwilling to try it again if we’re in the area.

Steverino’s – Duluth, GA

It’s Friday, it’s lunch time and it’s raining, as a co-worker and I headed into downtown Duluth without a dining destination in mind. We did, however, have the solution that we’d eat at whichever restaurant had the closest parking spot available (solid reasoning, right?) What’s that – a spot on the curb, right in front of Steverino’s? Decision made.

I knew that the name looked familiar the first time that I saw it in Duluth, and as I looked at their website I realized it’s because there used to be one on the corner of North Avenue and Spring Street, across from the Varsity. We were apparently fairly early for lunch, as there was only one other table of guests (they’d just left the middle table in the picture below)

dining while we were.

I ordered a grilled chicken “burger”, which was their broad description of a chicken breast butter-flied and thrown on the griddle on a buttered bun. Done this way, the chicken was incredibly moist and made for one of the best chicken sandwiches I had eaten in a long while. The fries with it were nondescript.

If you’re interested in their menu, click here.

The Iberian Pig – Decatur, GA

Note: I’m not usually one for reading diner reviews before I go some place, but the sub-90% from Urbanspoon and the low stars in Open Table through up enough of a red flag that I did some investigation, making sure there wasn’t a “food issue”.  You’ll see references to reviews below that I don’t usually make.

For the last year or two, I’ve heard much about the Iberian Pig.  When we were choosing a spot for dinner and looking for some place new, this seemed like the night for a visit.   We got delayed in traffic on Candler, so I called to let them know we were running about ten minutes late.  When we pulled into Decatur, four of us hopped out of the car while the other husband parked and we went into the restaurant.  I explained that we were about ten minutes late and they said that they’d seat us when the entire party arrived.  The host stand folks were not the friendliest with whom I’ve ever spoken, but they didn’t come off as “rude”, which I’d seen in several reviews.

I saw in several of the reviews that people complained about the extended wait, particularly when they had made a reservation.  One of the reasons we chose to eat early was to attempt to avoid that hassle.  I can see where that complaint could easily arise with any reservation later in the evening, based on what we saw up at the host stand, compounded by the timing and speed of service (more on that later). 

Another primary complaint in the reviews related to the lack of waiting area – there was zero.  While we were giving our name at the host stand, we were both blocking the door AND standing at the bar.  Whether you were coming in or going out or waiting, you seemed to be standing in the way.  The entryway could use considerable revamping (in my non-space planner opinion). 

We perused the menu and had almost made our choices when the server mentioned the special – a whole red snapper – and the ladies both selected that.

We started with the eponymous acorn-fed Black Iberian Pig, a breed indigenous to the Iberian peninsula, in three cured forms

• Jamon Iberica (back leg)
• Paleto Iberica de Bellota (front leg) and
• Loma Iberica de Bellota (back) –

served with bread and olives.  The Paleto and Loma were both very nutty.  The Jamon was the tastiest of the bunch.  But none of them tasted significantly superior to most prosciutto.  There were also a couple of (non-pictured) salads at the table around this time.

For dinner, our driver selected one of the plates -
the T.I.P chicken (9 oz. Springer Mountain Farms airline chicken breast, stuffed with Jamon Serrano, Medjool dates and Mahon cheese, dressed with a pistachio pesto cream, and served with romesco rustica, and a blistered cherry pepper).  It was apparently very good, as all that was left in the bowl was the bone.

Our youngest and I chose to share four tapas (the descriptions are from the menu):

Patatas al Valdeon – crispy potatoes, bravas sauce and Valdeon (a cow and goat’s mik blue cheese) aioli;

Manchego Mac ‘N Cheese – garganelli pasta, Manchego (one of my favorite cheeses)-pork belly butter cream, butter toasted panko and thyme;

Pork cheek tacos – slow roasted pork cheeks, fire roasted corn salsa, avocado crema, arugula and fresh lime; and

pardon the lack of light – we were discussing whether or not we needed a flash. I’m guessing “yes” in the future

Braised veal shank ravioli – handmade ravioli, stuffed with slow braised veal shank, served with a Rioja-creme sauce, black truffle creme fraiche, white truffle oil, roasted shitake mushrooms and fresh thyme.  

Of the four, the tacos and the mac-n-cheese were the best – by far.  The tacos were near perfect, in both size and flavor.  The mac-n-cheese was excellent, with just enough pork to flavor it without over-powering the cheese.  I didn’t enjoy the ravioli in the least – a flavor in the filling (I’m guessing the truffles) that helped me decide not to finish those.  The potatoes were good, but nothing spectacular. 

Here’s one of the red snappers and

the resulting plate. The food was fine – parts of it were very good – but the service, particularly the timing, was awful.  This was the other primary complaint in the reviews.  The order of the arrival of the food was:

Charcuteria, then salads, then a wait

Then our potatoes, then a wait

Then the chicken, the mac-n-cheese, tacos and ravioli, then a wait while most of the food gets cold

Then two whole fish that have to be fileted.

We were halfway through our tapas and the chicken was completely gone, before the fish was plated.  By the time the fish was served, it was cold, as were their sides.  It was difficult to judge the quality of the fish, but had it have been hot, it would have been the best meal of the evening.   And there wasn’t really a remedy available – they had ordered the last two and micro-waving that plate would likely only have made it worse.

Finally, our water glasses stayed empty a good part of the night.  I don’t know that it was our server, who was fairly hapless, or the kitchen, but the combo didn’t make for a good dining experience.  Combine poor service with the volume level (the place was loud) and I’m not rushing back.