Tag Archives: dining - Page 4

Let Me Tell You About This Meal I Had…

Posted by on June 13, 2013 No comments

It’s never good if I have a story to tell after a meal.  This is one of those meals.  This is one of those long-ass stories, too.  Tonight, I was deep in my usual gyrations over what the hell I was going to eat.  Running through the mental list of eating places wasn’t triggering anything.  I went on UrbanSpoon and listed everything in my area.  Nothing did it.  I started to get a bit sentimental over places in PA that I used to love eating at and couldn’t get to anymore.  I remembered some of the non-chain restaurants that I enjoyed and wished I had something like that here that I could rely on.  Unfortunately, despite searching, I have yet to find a good mom-and-pop.

But, a light came on.  There was one place I could try.  It was an Italian restaurant that had replaced a sports bar I used to go to.  I’d been there once before and was sorely disappointed.  At the time, they had just opened up.  I think I went within the few couple weeks of their opening.  My impression of the staff was that they were clueless.  The waitress acted like she didn’t know what a waitress was supposed to do, like checking on tables.  The kitchen was backed up beyond comprehension.  I think I heard “an hour” mentioned.  At least one table walked out during the time I was there.  I was on the verge of leaving, myself.

But I got my drink order in (I’m stuck now!) and then after a while, my waitress was ready and able to take my order: spaghetti with meat sauce – nothing amazing.  Yet another extended while after that, the waitress comes back and says they don’t have any meat sauce, would I like marinara?  No, I wouldn’t.  This is an Italian restaurant.  How do you not have meat sauce?  I ended up getting my drink and salad for free, and I left a $5 tip on the table and walked out.

Why would I want to go back to that?  Well, it’s been at least two years since that first experience and the place is still around, so surely they’ve got it figured out, right?  So I revisited the restaurant with elevated hopes.  And I don’t have any desire to go back again.

I show up in the front of the shop and walk up to the counter.  I say I’m dining in and I don’t know whether to order here, be seated, or seat myself.  Right off the bat, this is something that shouldn’t happen.  The waitress says, “You’re dining in?  You can go to the back room.  It’s much nicer back there.”  So, now your employees are saying that the restaurant has a nice section and a shitty section.  They’re still freaking clueless.

I seat myself and place my (same) order.  I’m kind of excited because their house dressing is a homemade creamy Italian – that’s hard to find.  But when the salad arrives, it seems weird.  Lettuce, onion, carrots, and… a hot pepper and chickpeas?  Odd, but no hassle.  I eat the lettuce and the carrots, but the house dressing is not to my liking.  Flavor-wise, it’s super sweet.  Makes me think of eating Vidalia onions.  Second, it’s warm.  That doesn’t sit so well with me.

My opinion is wavering at this point when my entrée comes out.  It’s soup!  I’m not saying that the meat sauce is runny, just that it’s a bowl full of sauce.  Like I can’t see the noodles, full.  And the sauce is really dark.  The first thing I think is, “Did they burn this sauce?”  Then I smell it and think, “Did they burn this sauce?”  Then I taste it and it’s… different.  Probably burnt.  Seasoned, yes, but I can’t put my finger on what it is.  Doesn’t really matter what it is because I just. don’t. like it.  Then the breadsticks came out.  I didn’t think you could screw up bread, but these sticks were completely tasteless.  They had parmesan cheese sprinkled on top and butter and/or oil poured on them.  It looked like oil, but darker.  I didn’t watch to touch it.  What the hell is up with this place?

I eat what noodles I could fish out from the depths of the sauce pit and at one point in my search mission, I found a leaf.  Yeah, a full leaf.  I think it’s the kind they use for seasoning, but I also think they’re supposed to be finely chopped?

Has the service redeemed itself after the “get out of the slums and go to the back room” direction?  No, not really.  My entrée was brought out by a different waitress that again didn’t understand the finer points of service.  She asked if I had spaghetti with meat sauce, which I confirmed, and she left it with me and bolted.  Waitresses with experience will first ask if everything’s ok and handle common requests, like cheese, napkins, or refills.  My main waitress that brought the breadsticks asked about cheese, but had to take care of multiple things before actually getting around to it.  Even then, she had a lot of trouble finding the cheese. (Who moved my cheese?)  Fascinatingly, although my salad dressing was warm, the cheese shaker was refrigerated .  Also, since I had the table next to the open kitchen, I was able to deduce that the cook didn’t seem to know how to be a cook.  I heard a shout at one point and I heard an exchange where he had to scramble because he forgot to make an appetizer.  Bad night?  Or just another night?

Finally – the weirdest part to me – the owner made his way around asking everyone if their food was ok.  I go to other “real” Italian places, and I know the owners do this. They love chatting you up in their heavy Italian accents.  This guy, no accent.  Didn’t look Italian at all.  Didn’t even look like an owner.  He could have been just another patron, I don’t know.  I lied and said the food was good.  Had he pressed harder and asked if it was “good” or “great” or “amazing”, he might have gotten the truth out of me.  But he seemed satisfied.

In summary, there wasn’t one redeeming piece of my entire meal experience.  As crazy as it sounds, this place is a sports bar that serves Italian food, with bar-quality food and service.  And that’s speaking badly of bar food.  It’s usually really good, I just can’t handle the atmosphere.

Customer Service, Done Right and Done Incredibly Wrong

Posted by on January 7, 2013 No comments

I’m writing this on a day that hasn’t really been in my favor, so it’s probably going to be a bit more harsh than usual.  But anyway, to have a post in the rant category with a tag of kudos would be rather odd.

Sometimes it takes a spectacular display of behavior to elevate something very good to the excellent level, and at the same time, showing the bad as very bad.  A couple of weeks ago at Fuddruckers, the GF and I ordered our food and sat down to wait for it.  When the server arrived with the food, she asked, “Did you get your shake, yet?”, which we hadn’t.  The server said, “Hold on just a minute,” and immediately went over and made the shake herself and brought it right over.  While she was doing that, I commented “I’m impressed she has taken personal responsibility for the problem and is fixing it.”  When she brought the shake, the GF gave expressed the same and thanked her for her level of service.

Fast-forward to a meal this weekend at Cracker Barrel.  I order my usual plain cheeseburger, which arrives not plain.  This isn’t the first time this has happened.  Cracker Barrel cooks don’t seem to understand what plain means.  As is typical at restaurants, a “runner” brought the food and when it was commented my burger wasn’t plain, she was confused. She offered a fresh bun and I accepted.  Just as she was walking away, our waitress came over and asked if everything was ok.  She saw the burger and commented defensively, “I put it in as plain” to which I sarcastically replied that it’s nothing new.  The GF asks the waitress if we can get a new bun, and incredibly, the first word out of the waitress’ mouth was “no.” 

“No?” 

When, ever, do you flat-out say “no” to a customer?  She immediately started back-tracking when she saw the looks on our faces and I think (or I hope, for her sake) she had intended to say that instead of just bringing a bun, she would take the plate back and fix it in the kitchen.  But, as it turned out, we commented that the runner was going to bring a new bun, and the waitress dismissed herself.

Time passed, and no bun appeared.  I assumed that would happen – that the runner and waitress would each think the other was taking care of it.  As I finished my fries, the waitress came back around and saw I still didn’t have a plain bun.  Again, she didn’t really apologize, she just refused to accept blame for someone else not doing something correct.  At that point she went back and got a new bun in under 20 seconds.

The rest of the meal was uneventful, but we were still shaking our heads at the level of customer service provided.  As I’m paying for the meal at the checkout counter, my cashier is talking to another cashier, discussing that they are both done for the day.  She asks me how my food was.  I responded in a tone that should have roused suspicion, “It was… good.”  There was a short pause while she processed the payment and she asks, “and how was the service today?” and before I could answer, she turned away and picked up on her conversation with the other cashier.  My eyes grew wide.  When she turned back, she didn’t seem to realize that the question had gone unanswered and finished the transaction.  As we walked out, I had plenty of expletives in my vocabulary.

Notice how little description it took for the positive experience and how much more was devoted to the shitty experience.  I’m not sure anyone thinks that good customer service is recognized, but everyone knows that bad service is immortalized.  It is pretty clear that the Fuddruckers we were at empowers their workers to do what it takes to make the customer happy.  It’s also clear that this particular Cracker Barrel does not.  It’s entirely possible that the individual employees contributed to the success or failure, but in the case of Cracker Barrel, it was four employees’ failures – the waitress, the runner, the cook, and the cashier.  That speaks volumes about that location, which we will never return to again.

So, in conclusion, kudos to Fuddruckers for giving their workers the power to fix problems themselves, and no comment to Cracker Barrel for not taking responsibility for mistakes and being too wrapped up in their own selves to find out that they screwed up.

Well, well, well.

Posted by on March 11, 2011 No comments

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A big fuck you to Pizza Hut’s web developers.  I’ve watched the PizzaHut website change on what seems like a weekly basis.  I  applaud their efforts, despite those efforts being in PHP and somewhat overbearing on the JQuery effects.

However, I get a little peeved when the Opera browser is intentionally excluded.  I mean, it’s not like you’re doing anything different to code for Opera, you just do it right and it works.  Code to the standards and things just work.

Random Roads

Posted by on August 29, 2010 No comments

I got to take a ride today.  It had been a little while since I had been out.  Last week I got the bike out and it made it to the driveway for about an hour and had to be put back for bad weather.

So this morning, I got the bike out and started riding before I really had a chance to second-guess myself.  I didn’t really have any destination in mind.  I had a quick thought about a road I always saw cars turning onto and I wondered why everyone wanted to take that road.  Where did it go?

So I went and found out what all the fuss was about.  It turned out to be a parallel road that goes to a neighboring town.  That’s good to know.  It’s good to have options when traffic or whatever happens.

Once in the neighboring town, I thought about what I would eat.  I had another memory that there was a pizza place across the road from the Boston Market that I had always ate at.  Whenever I would eat there, I would stare at this pizza place and wonder what it was like.  So, why not?  The pizza turned out to be pretty good and they had a good salad.  Not awesome, but nothing to stay away from.  While I was there, I could tell it was obviously a “family-run” business.  They had the kids in the back prepping food.  And as only young siblings would do, they were fighting.  Normal employees don’t tell each other to stop doing something and when asked why, state “because you suck at it!”

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On the way back, I came across yet another road that I’d wondered where it went to.  It went parallel on the other side of the main route.  So I went out and back on either side of the main router between the cities.  Interesting.

As is evident in the picture, the clouds were pretty prevalent throughout the whole trip, so I got the bike back home and put it away.  When I was out, i didn’t see many bikes; maybe six.  Later that afternoon on the way to dinner, I saw just as many or more, but they were all battling the downpour we were all in.  And I was in my car.

The “have it” habit

Posted by on December 3, 2009 No comments

At dinner tonight, I had the opportunity to train a new employee.  Not directly, but because nothing I ever do is simple, they got to experience exceptions to the order-taking routine.  At the close of the transaction, I was going to say something to the effect of “Enjoy your employment, lucky person” but decided against it.

As I ate, I considered this a little further.  I’m (still) employed.  I’m doing ok.  But at the same time, I’m a responsible employee and a quick learner.  I could have that job!  And since I’m still employed, I’m more desirable to employers because it shows I can keep a job.  I should have that job.

But what kind of flack would I take for doing something like that?  I’d be taking jobs away from someone who really needs one.  “You already have a good job.  Stop hoarding the jobs, jerk.”  This transitioned my thinking into class warfare: the “have’s” and the “have not’s”.  I think this needs revision.  It’s the “have not’s”, the “have enough’s” and the “have more’s”.  See, I want to advance from “have enough” to “have more”.  And I could, because I’m not currently in the “have not” crowd.

But like I said, that’s not really fair.  The rich get richer, as they derisively say.  I would be suppressing the “have not’s” – the class below me – from advancing to the “have enough’s”.  So, in order to spread some of the wealth, I will take that job.  And another.  And maybe another.  Then I will outsource my jobs to another person who could not get the job on their own.  Wait, it’s not really outsourcing, is it.  Insourcing?  No, not that either.  No, it’s reverse subletting.  I am going to sublet my jobs at a lower wage and take the difference as a “convenience fee”.  It works for property, why not jobs?

But as usual, I’m so far behind the times.  Of course, this is already done with day laborers, contract positions, and other temporary positions.  But those are all handled by businesses.  Businesses run by rich people.  The “have more’s”. Once again, I’m getting held back by the man.  It’s so hard to get ahead anymore.  Woe is me.

Trip Log 11/22/09

Posted by on November 22, 2009 No comments

Today was a beach trip.  To a different beach, on a different route.  That meant (oh boy) Interstate travel: 60 minutes at 70+ mph in chaotic conditions with a good wind.  I could see that there were storms to the north and south, but I seemed pretty safe in my path.

An uneventful trip to the beach and a fairly empty parking lot.  I had just gotten off the bike and gotten to the walkway when the parking authority vehicle pulled in.  I walk back to his truck and asked if he could break a $20 for the meters.  He told me not to worry and kept right on going.  Slow day, I guess.

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So I got my pictures and took a leisurely ride up and down the local roads.  Not much traffic and what was there was casual.  Stopped at a local place to have a lunch.  The sandwich was not as I would have expected.  What is the deal with sticking a huge pile of meat between slices of bread?  You can’t get your mouth around it and all you taste is meat.  There’s a balance when making a sandwich: the meat-to-bread ratio (or meat-to-bun as I originally termed it for fast food).  You don’t want the flavor of the meat to be lost in the bread, nor do you want excess in the other direction.  Some places just don’t get it.

I did bring along the Zune HD, but I didn’t get to do any Internet surfing.  All the available networks were secured, insulting, or both.

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So, I guess I won’t be going back there.  I should have had the burger.

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Cooking

Posted by on November 16, 2009 1 comment

Ahhh.  I just had a great meal, and I cooked it myself.

I hear you now.  “What?  Mr. I-eat-fast-food-three-meals-a-day-and-somehow-keep-living… cooks?”  That’s right.  And on top of that, I’m good at it.  No, I’m awesome at it.  I know this because I eat what i cook, and I’m one picky bastard, so my cooking must be awesome in order to meet my standards.  Tonight it was a simple, fairly healthy meal of steak and rice.  Ok, chopped steak and rice.  Ok, it was actually hamburger and rice, only it was made so awesome it could have been steak.

Some of you might be saying, “Rice?  that’s so bland and boring.” or “I can’t eat rice, they look like maggots.”  Well, if you were eating with me, you’d be eating it because I make it right.  And I’m going to share the recipe.  There’s a special ingredient you might need to go to the store to buy, but it’s worth it.  Now, here’s the ingredient list:

  • 2 cups Rice
  • 1/4 stick of butter

Yeah, I know.  It’s awesome.  You people who think you have a bowl of maggots in front of you aren’t going to complain when that larvae is coated in a thick layer of butter.  And rice is boring?  Try eating my rice with chopsticks.  That’ll keep you busy.  And thanks to the wondrous power of butter, it’s awesome.

Now, the entree: steak/burger/whatever.  There is a special art to seasoning beef before cooking it.  I’ve seen plenty of marinades, rubs, and spices, but I know what I like.  After all, I eat at Outback and Longhorn enough to get a taste of good seasoning.  So, here’s my custom seasoning blend for my burgers:

  • Salt

If I wasn’t already employed, I’d be opening my own restaurant.  I’m saying, it’s that good.

I remember when I first moved out and had never cooked for myself before.  It could be the reason why I eat out all the time.  But anyway, I took the time and mastered the art of cooking.  All you people who say “I’ve never cooked.  I can’t even cook a burger.  Fire scares me.”  Here’s my step-by-step instructions to cooking a burger:

  1. Shut up
  2. Buy a George Foreman grill
  3. Cook a burger

I was going to write a book on this special technique, but figured the information is better in the public domain.  If you fail to cook your burger properly, simply follow the directions again.  Pay close attention to the first step – it’s the most critical.  If you can’t get a good burger after five attempts.  Throw all your George Foreman grills away and just disregard steps 2 and 3.

I’ll have to take the time someday to explain the killer grilled cheese sandwiches I make, but I’ll close with a tip on making tea drinkable.  If you don’t like tea, it’s because you don’t have enough sugar in it.  It’s that simple.  In fact, I’ll bet you can eat concrete if you have enough butter, salt and sugar available.

Ride to Eat, Eat to Ride

Posted by on October 4, 2009 No comments

Just a couple of random bike trips for food.  The first was to a place I’d not heard of before, although there are a few locations around here: Village Inn.  I hoped this would be like a King’s or Eat & Park from the northern area, but was a bit disappointed.  I tried the staple meal – burger and fries – but the burger had some seasoning or spice that wasn’t suiting me very well at all.  I could only eat a few bites of it.

It’s not all bad.  I gave up on the entree and went to dessert.  The chocolate pie was excellent and made up for most of the meal’s failure.

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Then I went out to tourist country and ate at a Ponderosa.  It’s a location I’d been to before when I was not a local resident.  Interesting how differently you act towards attractions when you could go there every day…  Not that Ponderosa is an attraction, but Old Town is right there and it’s Halloween, which means they have a big push on the haunted house.

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This meal I was treated to the excellent stories of a very special person behind me.  My impression is that he sees himself as some sort of consumer superhero.  As I understand the story, superboy was performing some bank transaction through the automated telephone service and answered some personal verification question wrong.  This immediately locked his account.  To resolve this, he called the bank directly.  I have no idea why, but he felt it necessary to disguise his voice, taking on the tone of an agitated old man with respiratory issues.  “Yes, this is so-an-so *cough cough hack snork* and you have locked my *cough COUGH* account with your damn computer *gag hack*.”  During this trial to get him verified, he answered all the questions correctly.  If he didn’t know one (and I’m not sure why he wouldn’t know his personal information), he would have a coughing fit to buy time.  Using typical hyperbole, he said they asked him a hundred questions.  Then using some sort of hybrid of hyperbole and stupidity, he said they asked him for his grandmother’s maiden name, but he answered using her married name.  The only thing I can deduce from these facts is that he was faking access to his father’s account (which would be his father’s mother’s maiden name).

Superboy goes off on a tangent.  Now he’s pissed because everything’s a ripoff.  Drinks are $2.50 (“that’s where they get ya”).  The onion rings cost an extra dollar (“That’s a scam.  They asked me if I wanted onion rings but never said it’d be an extra dollar.”).  But like my Village Inn dessert, it wasn’t all bad (“The 10% coupon I used paid for the extra charge for onion rings”) , but at the same time, he wasn’t letting go.  He somehow changes gears and relates a story about how he had to give a 7 cent refund to a customer because they felt they were incorrectly charged tax on a dollar item and how stupid and petty it was.  He somehow fails to relate his current bitching about the dollar upcharge to this story.

Please let me out of here.

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Cannibal Toast Crunch

Posted by on June 29, 2009 No comments

And this past weekend I’m having lunch at a restaurant and see a commercial for Cinnamon Toast Crunch.  A couple of pieces floating in the milk, then a third piece swims around like a shark fin.  The first piece gets sucked under the surface, then the second piece frantically tries to swim away and gets pulled below.  The third piece surfaces and licks his lips.

I think I get it.  The message is that the cereal is so good it eats itself.  Cute.  Then my imagination kicked in, which never ends well.  I only wish I had the artistic skills to realize my visions.  That really would not end well.

So, cue the eerie music on a scene of a gingerbread house in the woods.  As it slowly pans in, you hear frantic, gasping breaths and some struggling.  Cut to a close scene of a Teddy Grahams bear tied to a decrepit examination table.  Pull back to see another Teddy Graham bear standing aside wearing a dirty, stained smock.  A makeshift nametag crookedly hanging on the smock reads “Dr. Ted”.

0b211a5b93b04d0eea3ad740ea927ac8Dr. Ted passes his hand over an assortment of sharp and pointy implements and settles on what seems to be a bone saw.  He takes the tool, places it at the wrist of the restrained bear and slowly begins sawing.  The victim screams and struggles in vain.  No blood.  They’re cookies, for god’s sake!  Ok, maybe a close-up scene of some crumbs falling to the floor and the screaming and sawing continues.

The paw has now been separated and Dr. Ted holds it up.  The victim is in shock, staring at his own sawn-off paw.  He (or she.  A female would be so much more dramatic.) musters enough strength to scream “Why are you doing this?”

Dr. Ted pauses for a second and stares blankly – as only Teddy Grahams can do.  Then a distorted smile stretches his face and he replies softly, “Because you taste…so…good.”  At which point he takes a savoring bite of the amputated cookie.  “Mmmm.”

Fade to black, then flip on a weak hanging light, flickering, showing an excessively shadowed box of Teddy Grahams seemingly trapped in a corner.  Maybe the box will shiver a little.  I don’t know.

I suppose a lot of people wouldn’t appreciate my sense of humor.  Maybe it was because I was in a crappy mood because I got supremely drenched on the bike on the way to lunch.  Nothing catches people attention in a restaurant like a person soaked from head to toe (except I wear a helmet so my head was dry).  Ride bike=get wet.  I wonder if I should be renting myself out to some drought-stricken communities.  As long as I keep my mouth shut, I suppose I’d be fine.

This Place Sucks, So Let Me Help

Posted by on February 27, 2009 No comments

I’m nearing the end of watching a George Carlin DVD box set and I have to say I’m pretty pessimistic on our culture.  The whole idea of "gotta have it now" is becoming pretty offensive to me.  TVs, cell phones, computers, iPods… the behavior of Zune users during the 24 hours the Zune was inoperable was outrageous.  People can’t live without a music player for 24 hours, or more realistically 12 hours, since you can’t be awake listening to a MP3 player for 24 hours.

Carlin will do that to you after a while.  So you have a couple of choices: accept it or battle it.  I’m going to make the most of it.

To that end, I’m going to convert this to my “eating out” blog.  They say you should blog about something you’re passionate about and I do enjoy fast food (see previous post on state of food).  I had planned on developing a web site that would allow anyone to rate fast food places, but I just don’t have the energy for that right now, so this will have to do.