Eating Good, Reviewing Better

In an era where everyone is truly a critic, thanks to the likes of applications such as Yelp trying to replace the need for positions like mine, it is more critical than ever that reputable voices such as my own not only remain recognized for holding particularly esteemed and indisputable observations, but also continue to consistently end up on the right side of an opinion every time. 

That is why every review that I write becomes even more significant and provides an even greater test and confirmation of my abilities than the last. That would mean that this review of my experience at Schat Zel E Zay would by far be my greatest and most accurate yet.

A critics day begins the night before with a coat of tasteless toothpaste and a swish of club soda before of course, signing it off with our equivalent of reading before bed ->  a quick glance at the menu. This day was no different.

Our mornings are no less disciplined, banking on just a single scrambled egg to get us to the evening. 

You’d think a critic's job is sedentary but I’ll tell you it’s anything but. Our periodically scheduled half hour walks and large intakes of water ensure to keep our stomachs hungry and expanded. It may sound extra, but these revolutionary palate cleansing techniques are our game 7 warm ups and what allows us to perform like Lebron James on the dinner table. 

But enough about our complex and underappreciated lives. Let’s talk about the restaurant.

I usually would prefer to be dropped off for my dinner, however, in order to fairly score every aspect of this night, I drove myself and pulled into Schat’s seemingly well enough staffed valet. 

For 45$ plus tip I can’t lie, I winced at the price but it did come with the “opening my car door and restaurant door service” – a rare occurrence these days – so I’d argue it was worth it. 

I’ll say, the restaurant's design is a true sight to witness. To put it frankly, the entire establishment was designed to look like a loaf of bread, specifically the baguette (or so I was told). There was a tacky deep brown coat both inside and out but I won’t bore you with the details as I’m not an architect. All I was thinking was that the bread had better be good here.

I was escorted through the comically large dining room and was given one of their finest seats at the center as a critic of my caliber deserved. I did observe looking up to find myself right smack under a massive and arguably gaudy chandelier.

“I don’t suppose you plan to drop that on me.” I had remarked, gesturing above me to my lackluster host whose handkerchief could’ve surely been folded better in his blazer pocket. “Because that won’t score you many points.”

Well anyways, let’s get on with it.

Part 1 -The Appetizer

As always, I’ll start with a brief recollection of the toolset provided to me for the night. My chair was shockingly large with a leather brown and round back. It felt like it was designed to make me feel vulnerable and like a turtle, but it was a tad comfy however. The silverware was your standard china paired with a tablecloth to which I could find no stains. Not bad I guess.

I picked up the menu provided by the host and thanks to my extensive foreign language knowledge I had no problem navigating to the hors d'oeuvres section. But I could see how someone who doesn’t speak French could get lost.

They had a sizable amount of available appetizers which I’ll be honest, immediately came off as a red flag. The finest restaurants tend to keep their options on the leaner side. 

The Walnut and Ricotta Crotini had immediately caught my eye along with muscles in a garlic saffron sauce and something else but I’ll be honest I had suddenly become distracted by a familiar voice seated in a slightly better seat than mine.

I would’ve preferred to have a routine evening. But sometimes, there are cold and rainy nights that force the best out of an athlete and when I saw my rather inferior and fraudulent rival Henry Bordeaux sat down at the table adjacent to mine I realized it was going to be one of those nights.

“Yes I’ll start with your finest Buttercream Chardonnay.” I had initially recalled him rattling off to the same waiter as mine. I promise you these details are essential to my review so I will continue to recount them.

I waited for the waiter to leave before speaking to him.

“What on Earth are you doing here on the same night as me?” I had told him attacking his complete lack of professionalism. It’s possible Henry, who was clearly trying to sabotage me, had also somehow not expected me to address him as he appeared flabbergasted himself.

“Well Mr. Sauvignon it’s a shame to see you here tonight. I have the same question as you.”

What a stupid response that was, but I wasn’t going to let this amateur derail my review so I told him good day and immediately gestured to my waiter. This was of course to score the attentiveness of the staff and not at all make sure I ordered before Henry. The waiter got a 7/10 on that regard because he should’ve walked over faster.

I started with the finest possible combination on their menu which was the muscles, crostini, and escargot. It takes decades of mastery to place an order so sophisticated and thorough. I can’t imagine many others being able to do the same.

“I’d like to order the Walnut and Ricotta Crostini, those delicious sounding muscles, your finest escargot, and the Baked Brie sounds lovely.” Henry had said to our waiter not even 30 seconds after my order.

To say I was dumbfounded is an understatement. I would like to, at this point, let readers know that it was beyond clear and obvious Henry Bordeaux had some inside information on my itinerary tonight. So, I would heavily advise you to avoid reading his review, and to understand that a review built on the back of someone else’s work is illegitimate at the very least.

To test my waiter’s ability to add requests on the fly, I asked him to add a baked brie to my appetizer list. 

“Oh, unoriginal much?” Henry had mocked to which I didn’t even look his way in order to preserve my appetite. 

I sprayed some breath spray into my mouth and set my timer. I spotted my waiter approximately eight and a half minutes later carrying two platters out the door. Of course, to my frustration, he delivered the first platter of appetizers to that fraud across from me before handing off mine. 

There are moments in a service where it is our duty to provide live feedback and so I had then decided to inform him how unprofessional it was to deliver to two different tables in one go. Especially at a restaurant holding themselves to such a high standard. I don’t think any paying customer would want to feel like they’re getting somebody's sloppy seconds. 

After trying all the options before me, I requested my server so I could lay out my thoughts to him for the chef.

“The garlic saffron sauce had a well rounded flavor but was undersalted and lacked enough garlic,” I began, “No complaints but nothing special on the Brie and Crostini and finally, the puff pastry was a nice touch with the escargot and very fluffy. Feel free to let your chef know.” And if that is not an expert way to leave initial impressions I wouldn’t know what was. 

Unfortunately, instead of heading back to the kitchen, my waiter instead made his way next door to someone who also felt they needed to give their unvalued opinion. To save you the agony of having to read his, I’ll lay it out exactly as he said it here.

“Fluffy,” Henry said, eyeing me for a moment, “Is a description I would use if I lacked the vocabulary to describe the pastry as silky, airy, and dancing on my taste buds. Thank you.”

That was uncalled for.

“Well if you’d let me finish!” I butt in, my waiter spinning to face me, “I would’ve described them all as the fantastic four, each carrying a unique but equally important weight.”

“Pft, what?” Henry scoffed, clearly feeling undermined.

I definitely got him, but I can’t lie I was a bit upset at this point so I found now to be a good time to go check out the bathroom.

 It was ok. A bit soundproof since I don’t think anyone heard my yelling.

Part 2 – The Entrée

It isn’t unheard of, but definitely bordering on unusual for a French restaurant to not only offer but highlight a burger. I believe in encouraging bold risk taking and it was my responsibility to respect that, so I ordered the burger paired with potato crisps and a fine tomato puree sauce as my main course. At $31 USD, it was far from a value meal but sometimes you have to pay for the good stuff.

To nobody's surprise whatsoever Henry ordered the same exact thing but it didn’t matter because nobody really cares what he has to say.

The two burgers, which made me feel like I was on a dinner date at this point, came out  together and lightning quick at just under five minutes. If  you want fast food, stop by Schats.

I grabbed my napkin to place on my lap when, to my worst nightmare, a cricket fell out of it. To be honest, my quick reflexes caused me to yelp and jump out of my seat. For the safety of myself and my followers I of course would’ve ended the dinner right there if I hadn’t immediately seen that senile gremlin nearly collapse to the ground laughing. I looked at the roach again and realized it was a prop.

Fuming and embarrassed because who wouldn’t be, I got back into my seat right as my waiter was placing down the burger. I thanked him, but mind you I was now rattled, and concerned my taste could be thrown off. 

The burger had a classic sesame bun. However, the cross section seemed less voluminous than expected with few vegetables and thinner patties than I’d thought. Otherwise, it seemed satisfactory. The golden chips were fried to perfection and the tomato puree appeared delightful.

“My god, it’s magnificent.” I heard that goblin say before even giving the waiter a chance to leave, “The pickle relish was a stroke of genius.”

It’s severely amateurish to review an entree before the server has left the table, but sometimes if you need to deal with a clown, you have to play their games.

“The patties are fried to perfection.” I interjected, admittedly before even trying it. I quickly took a bite however and it did meet that description, well, to an extent.

“The ratio of tomatoes to lettuce is astoundingly perfect!” Henry remarked, getting up from his seat facing me now. “Not only were they exquisitely thinly sliced, but they must’ve been picked at the perfect time as well. Are they locally sourced?”

I took another bite, dipped a fry into the sauce, and stood up to match him. 

“My goodness does that hit right at home!” I exclaimed, recognizing those familiar flavors instantly, “Tastes just like mother’s cooking! Every ingredient feels picked right off her farm.”

Henry got red in the face at that one.

“Wow, the brilliance of slicing the onions that way is astounding. And I mean, is that paprika?” he clapped back.

I laughed at his incompetence. 

“Paprika from Walmart maybe. If you really are incapable of realizing, that was clearly chili powder.”

“I apologize if it is, it’s a bit difficult to taste with your smell in the way. May I ask if you’ve showered recently?” Henry snarked.

At that moment the waiter excused himself, and I remember being in an intense stare off with that freak.

“I don’t know what your deal is, but I’ve had enough!” I commanded. He must’ve said something that didn’t make sense since I don’t recall it now, but I believe I ignored it and returned to my seat absolutely fuming my top off.

Part 3 - A List of Reasons why Henry should be put in jail for the rest of his life as well as dessert

The thing about Henry Bordeaux is that everything about him from his upbringing to who he is now has been built on his wealthy parents and from taking advantage of others. 

He was kicked out of culinary school twice, possibly even more, but of course his parents had bribed them to take him back. It is well known that the school had refused to pass him on the integrity of their education, but his parents refused to let him fail and shelled out unfathomable amounts of money for them to instead create a special degree just for Henry. Rumor had it he couldn’t tell an onion from an orange.

By the way, the waiter came back at one point and I believe I ordered the tiramisu, or was it the bread pudding… but anyways the bottom line is Henry has no background to be making such judgements on food and it’s frankly despicable that he had even been allowed to sit next to me that night at all.

Let’s take his review from 2018 of Ellie Mac’s for example. (Also as a quick note, the waiter asked what ice cream to top the pudding with so I chose vanilla bean). 

Henry had ordered the calamari and anyone worth more than the paper they were reading would’ve instantly put that down off the bat. I mean what kind of critic goes with something as basic as that? And on top of that he called it “riveting” and a “white wine sauce like no other”, which is a criminal claim to be honest. I’ve had better at Olive Garden but the fact he still had a career after that stuns me to my core.

I quickly thanked the waiter who promptly brought out my dessert.

But anyway,  that wasn’t even the worst part.

He catastrophically categorized the majority of Ellie Mac’s dishes as certified for gluten free diets, which was just absolutely false. How the FDA didn’t shut that man down after that disaster is another crime in and of itself.

By the way, unlike a single one of Henry’s reviews, the bread pudding was actually decent.

I tried to take a sip of the cappuccino but it was soured by Henry’s hideously unproportional face in the background, and I quickly gave up on it. I was reminded of his scandal where he was for sure sending people to try and describe coffee from various shops for him. He somehow found the audacity to publish those reviews as his own

In all honesty, all these thoughts are beginning to make me feel sick again so I’ll cut to the chase and leave my final thoughts:

Overall, my experience at Schat Zel E Zay’s was less than stellar. I felt my waiter was very distracted and my night was ruined by a very rude guest. He happened to also be very ugly and dressed really poorly and I will question for the rest of my life why he wasn’t kicked out at any point in the night. And also the food was fine.

As always, it’s been a pleasure eating, reviewing, and writing for you. Until next time, your guy on the front lines – Bobby Sauvignon.

Epilogue:

It was discovered a few days later that Schat Zel E Zay had been allegedly selling literal McDonald’s burgers and fries with the only difference being their presentation. This was thanks to a local who placed their suspicions on Yelp and they were shut down effectively immediately.