Zero Stars!

Dear Avid Reader,

           There are times in the commencement of my duties for you, dear reader, I find myself struggling to walk the line between my own personal biases and my responsibility to those of you who take my word as either an endorsement or condemnation of a particular establishment. This is not a responsibility I take lightly and ultimately in most cases I will lean on my code to provide you with an unbiased and objective review of the eateries available in our metro area, rather than taint that assessment with my own, personal, opinions. I have no doubt, though, that in the example that follows we are in complete agreement about the ways in which this week’s installment completely violates what any sane person would consider the sanctity of the dining experience.

           The blatant assault on the senses begins as soon as you walk through the front door. The eyes are accosted with the bright fluorescence of the neo-industrial lighting ineffectually applied to boost the sense of modernity in the space. From the kitchen come the sounds of banging pots and cooking utensils, drowning out the, thankfully, the quiet strains of music apparently deemed culturally appropriate for this genre of restaurant. From the sign out front it is meant to be an exploration of riotous flavors form south of the border, but I wonder as soon as I enter which border that is meant to be!

           There are several groups of people seated and in various states of progress through their meals. Many are dressed shabbily and some men, and women are even wearing hats inside! I am pointed with barely a nod of acknowledgement to a table far in the corner, up front, against the windows. It is small, too small for two people to share, but I forgive them this as it does seem that the dinner rush is on, and the door barely closes as group after group enter after me. It dawns on me that I will surely be lost in the chaos as nearly every table fills up in the matter of minutes. Where was the hostess?! 

My fears are realized as no one comes to my table for over 30 minutes to take an order. I am not even offered something other than the cheap plastic cup of cloudy water with a few mostly melted ice cubes in it that they fling at me. Only then do I realize that they have not sat anyone near me, preferring to crowd the rest of the guests into the other corners of this over-lit funhouse. They must have guessed at who I was and tried to fix their original mistakes, but it was too late.

           I persevere, dear reader, for you and to fulfill my duties as your faithful purveyor of culinary perspectives. While I wait patiently, I reach over and take a menu left on a dirty table, that sat unkept the entire time I was seated. Just one more oversight in this poorly run circus, I convinced myself. The menu was a pretentious, sprawling affair, with misspellings throughout. It was as if English was a second language for whomever was cursed to create this tome of confusing cuisine choices. While the food menu was too much, the menu of offerings to drink was lacking in every way. They did not seem to offer cocktails, though I must ask if they have a secret bar menu, and only a small selection of regional beers to choose from. This seems a bold choice, as not only do most restaurants make most of their profit on alcohol sales, but as people in this town are also known to be a festive, yet discriminating dining audience and beer is just not adequate for most occasions.

           Having decided on a few, varied selections I settled back just when the waiter finally came to take my order. He seemed in a hurry, barely listening to what I had to say and pausing only long enough to refill my dirty water glass and seemingly ignoring my drink order all together. Well at this point I was very seriously considering walking out, but as I had just ordered, I decided that would make me the misfeasor in the scenario, losing any credibility in my review. My role is to sacrifice for you, my regular and devoted reader, so that you do not have to waste you hard-earned money, or your time with sub-par epicurean experiences. And so, I wait. 

           And lo! An act of grace, followed by a return to complete and disastrous failure that they night had been up to that point. The waiter turned up back at my table-side in only a matter of minutes with a plate of food! But in one glance I could tell that a. the hot food was not hot, which likely meant the cold portions were not cold and b. what was delivered included none of the selections I had ordered! I looked up to raise my concerns, only to see the back of my server as he moved as quickly as I had ever seen someone move through the maze of a dining room before. I shrugged and decided at that very moment the score I was going to give in my print review: a zero. I do not give this judgment lightly, because I realize the effect a careless score, unsupported by unambiguous evidence can have on a young establishment in this town. But this was clearly a case where the naught symbol was warranted.

           I poked at the food, then after taking a few bites admittedly, likely because I was famished at this point, enjoyed it. The interplay of different flavors and textures, even in the state that the plate had been delivered, was in reality quite pleasant. Again, I am sure that I was experiencing huger pangs from how long it took to get served on this place and, if I am being candid, I had forgotten to fit lunch into my busy schedule. I looked down after a few minutes and realized I had cleared the plate of the cold, and erroneously ordered food. This was not, I decided, going to deter me from my original rating, as the business should be punished for expecting a plate of cold sustenance to make up for failures in every other aspect of the dining experience. Therefore, I leave out any description of the meal to make this very important point on behalf of all of you haute-cuisine diners out there.

           Knowing that I would not be offered a drink, nor even a dessert menu, I decided it was time to take my leave. I reached into my pocket and pulled out what I thought was fair to leave for the lackluster night and left it on the table. I don’t mind telling you that at this point all I wanted to do was find a warm place to curl up and digest, in preparation for my next outing where, once again, I will go boldly into the fray, testing and tasting so that I can report back to you, dear reader.

Ranking

0 Stars!

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“Did you see the way he destroyed that plate of tamales? He must have been starving! Damn, I do feel bad for them, but why does El Jefe have to let them in during dinner?? I mean, it’s better than throwing away food, but…You’re just lucky he didn’t stay in your section all night bro!”

“Hey , look at what he left me on the table for my trouble! A piece of wire, some pocket lint and…not sure what THAT is, but I’m gonna wash my hands after touching it!”

“Now we can bus those tables on that side without having to smell him!”