If TGI Fridays is your idea of fancy dining and you wouldn't know what to do with that extra spoon they insist on putting on your table if it hit you in your mullet, here's some pointers if you ever find yourself at the same feeding trough as LeBron James.
1. I know the hostess is snotty. She's underpaid, under-appreciated, and probably hasn't eaten a decent meal in a year. That'll make you grumpy too. She's looking to stomp on anyone she can and since she controls your destiny when you enter the restaurant, it is far from wise to point out that she needs to tone down the haughtiness since you probably earn more money than her in one day than she does in a week. It'll make her bump your name to back of the wait list.
2. Yes, it's dark in many of these places. Please do not walk through the joint commenting on the poor lighting. All the hottest restaurants are owned by vampires and werewolves; due to their nightvision, they care not for your inferior human senses. Not really, but I don't think anyone actually knows where this stupid trend started and why. Your guess is as good as mine.
3. Unless the tablecloth is made of paper and the hostess hands you crayons, DO NOT draw on the tablecloths. Seriously, are you 5 years old? Put those crayons from Denny's back into your purse. It's not funny or cute.
4. You may ask for the waiter to repeat the specials in English. They will be grateful for the request since they're being forced to recite pretentious French culinary phrases the whole evening. Saying "Chicken" in English will be a treat.
5. If you do not like wine, do not order wine. Nothing looks sillier than people making a whiskey face all evening with each sip of wine. There is no shame is saying NO to fermented grapes.
6. Going with No.4, ask for translations if the menu is in another language. You don't want snails arriving at the table when you think you're getting duck. Why some restaurants in America insist on putting their menus in foreign languages is beyond me. I think they do it because they think it will scare away the rednecks, patriots, republicans, and Amish. Haha, jokes on them!
7. If you see a celebrity, do not stare at them, ask them for autographs/pictures/phone calls to friends/ect. Leave them alone, they come to these dark, snooty joints to get away from idiots who hassle them. Don't be that guy.
8. Michael Symon is not going to come to your table and laugh for your personal amusement. Don't ask.
9. Forks are for eating not picking your teeth.
10. Tip properly. Tipping is now made easy by the cell phone tip calculators. Use them!!
Servers are people too and they have the same cognitive and memory skills as the rest of us. If you tip well whenever you go to a restaurant, you may notice a trend of better service. It's called Karma. Servers will always go out of their way for guests they know will take care of them. If you think $10 on a $300 is a good tip, don't be surprised if you're sat at a table by the kitchen door and it takes 45 minutes for your water with lemon to arrive.
Don't be a jackass, use common sense and logic, and dress in clean clothing. Once you have accomplished those basics, you too can eat with the A-Listers at Red the Steakhouse.
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
Monday, June 9, 2008
But What About the Service??
I grew up in Cleveland Heights and anyone who grew up in Cleveland Heights knows all about Coventry. Those who love Coventry also love Tommy's. It's the best restaurant on the street. It's the best vegetarian restaurant in Cleveland, so sayeth the powers at, like, every single publication in the entire region.
It is pretty darned good. The food is fresh and tasty and the milkshakes are unbeatable(take that Mitchell Brothers!). However, there has always been a dark evil cloud hanging over this happy hippy home....the service. It's awful. They are slow when they need to be fast and will run away faster than Top Thrill Dragster when one needs a refill. They also like to disappear for long periods of time. However, they always have a good attitude and their general flakiness is somehow endearing. Even though the service sucks, we all keep going back. Why? Because we are all secret masochists! Not really, but the food is good enough to excuse the employee shenanigans.
Tommy's could be the perfect restaurant if only their staff was a little more aware with a sense of urgency rather than the laid-back brand that stems from the Coventry days of yore when everyone sat on the courtyard in front of Arabica getting high and singing folk music while lanky hacky-sackers played for hours.
Maybe that's the problem, I'm just not high enough when I go to Tommy's.
It is pretty darned good. The food is fresh and tasty and the milkshakes are unbeatable(take that Mitchell Brothers!). However, there has always been a dark evil cloud hanging over this happy hippy home....the service. It's awful. They are slow when they need to be fast and will run away faster than Top Thrill Dragster when one needs a refill. They also like to disappear for long periods of time. However, they always have a good attitude and their general flakiness is somehow endearing. Even though the service sucks, we all keep going back. Why? Because we are all secret masochists! Not really, but the food is good enough to excuse the employee shenanigans.
Tommy's could be the perfect restaurant if only their staff was a little more aware with a sense of urgency rather than the laid-back brand that stems from the Coventry days of yore when everyone sat on the courtyard in front of Arabica getting high and singing folk music while lanky hacky-sackers played for hours.
Maybe that's the problem, I'm just not high enough when I go to Tommy's.
Best Italian Food.....EVAR.
Have you ever driven past a restaurant for years and told yourself "I should go eat there"? And yet you never seemed to get around to it. I did. And that particular joint was La Dolce Vita in Little Italy on Mayfield Road. It looked so adorable with it's crappy tilted patio tables and dark, slightly dusty interior but the smells that emanated from it's door were so alluring.
Alan and I consider ourselves to be of the foodie persuasion and we lurve trying new places. As such, last Wednesday evening(after ditching the rugrats at gramma's) we decided to give La Dolce Vita a whirl. Like I said, first impressions aren't much there. It looks really small, it's dark, and the windows could always use and extra wipe down or twenty. The tables that the charming owner places outside are kinda pathetic. They slant and could use a nice cleaning. However, once you are down thumbing your nose at the patio furniture, you enter the restaurant and get greeted by the cutest hostess this side of the Mississippi. My impression was once again shattered by the level of pretension in the dining room. I was wearing jeans, a t-shirt, and sandals. Everyone, but the gracious and highly attractive staff, was glaring at me like I was some homeless person that wandered in looking for a free meal. Well, excuse me for not dressing in my Sunday best for a casual Wednesday night dinner. I'll mention now that we were also the only table in the place that didn't have wine on it. I don't really drink wine and I prefer water or a diet soda to wash down my food, thank you very much. While the regular clientele leaves something to be desired, I'll bet my left foot that this place is great for people watching on any given night.
Alan and I were taken to a cozy table by a large mirror where we waited....and waited....and waited. Ok, the service isn't the promptest but it's so worth the wait. Our server was this gorgeous young man with a trace of an accent not of the US variety. He shyly gushed over the specials and swiftly delivered our drinks. Alan and I ordered buffalo mozzarella on tomato slices slathered with a balsamic vinaigrette, prosciutto, roasted red peppers, and Sicilian olives. Buffalo mozzarella?? Back this crazy train up! I had always thought mozzarella was made from cows. Like farmer-in-the-dell cows. It turns out that true mozzarella is actually from water buffalo. Weird. However, the appetizer was AMAZING. Seriously! It was "damn, I wish I had more buffalo cheese to eat!" good.
Next up, Alan ordered some sort of pasta that looked like it was poured from a Chef Boyardee can but assured me that it was made from veal. I don't eat veal therefore I can only take his word that the food was good. Because he ordered food I wouldn't touch with someone else's ten foot pole, I childishly withheld my food from Alan. I'm glad I did. My pasta dish, cleverly named, Fettuccine Fellini was incredible. I'm not sure what the exact ingredients were but the menu mentioned tomatoes, feta cheese, Parmesan cheese, and prosciutto. My pasta was cooked to perfection and the combination of flavors were out of this world. I cleaned my plate(short of licking it clean, I do have some manners) and joked with the waiter about it.
I'm not sure whom Alan and I know in Little Italy or if that employees there can smell their own industry kind but it seems like every time we dine down there, we end up with freebees. The waiter delivers our check along with a gorgeous platter of fresh fruit laced with Triple Sec. Yay! Big tip for the kindly server. That was a great gesture on his part.
We walked away filled to the brim and satisfied. Not-to-mention, eager to go back sometime soon. Rumor has it that La Dolce Vita still does their live operas and seven course Italian dinner. That sounds like a great way to spend an evening. Hopefully they allow us jeans-clad plebeians in on those nights.
Alan and I consider ourselves to be of the foodie persuasion and we lurve trying new places. As such, last Wednesday evening(after ditching the rugrats at gramma's) we decided to give La Dolce Vita a whirl. Like I said, first impressions aren't much there. It looks really small, it's dark, and the windows could always use and extra wipe down or twenty. The tables that the charming owner places outside are kinda pathetic. They slant and could use a nice cleaning. However, once you are down thumbing your nose at the patio furniture, you enter the restaurant and get greeted by the cutest hostess this side of the Mississippi. My impression was once again shattered by the level of pretension in the dining room. I was wearing jeans, a t-shirt, and sandals. Everyone, but the gracious and highly attractive staff, was glaring at me like I was some homeless person that wandered in looking for a free meal. Well, excuse me for not dressing in my Sunday best for a casual Wednesday night dinner. I'll mention now that we were also the only table in the place that didn't have wine on it. I don't really drink wine and I prefer water or a diet soda to wash down my food, thank you very much. While the regular clientele leaves something to be desired, I'll bet my left foot that this place is great for people watching on any given night.
Alan and I were taken to a cozy table by a large mirror where we waited....and waited....and waited. Ok, the service isn't the promptest but it's so worth the wait. Our server was this gorgeous young man with a trace of an accent not of the US variety. He shyly gushed over the specials and swiftly delivered our drinks. Alan and I ordered buffalo mozzarella on tomato slices slathered with a balsamic vinaigrette, prosciutto, roasted red peppers, and Sicilian olives. Buffalo mozzarella?? Back this crazy train up! I had always thought mozzarella was made from cows. Like farmer-in-the-dell cows. It turns out that true mozzarella is actually from water buffalo. Weird. However, the appetizer was AMAZING. Seriously! It was "damn, I wish I had more buffalo cheese to eat!" good.
Next up, Alan ordered some sort of pasta that looked like it was poured from a Chef Boyardee can but assured me that it was made from veal. I don't eat veal therefore I can only take his word that the food was good. Because he ordered food I wouldn't touch with someone else's ten foot pole, I childishly withheld my food from Alan. I'm glad I did. My pasta dish, cleverly named, Fettuccine Fellini was incredible. I'm not sure what the exact ingredients were but the menu mentioned tomatoes, feta cheese, Parmesan cheese, and prosciutto. My pasta was cooked to perfection and the combination of flavors were out of this world. I cleaned my plate(short of licking it clean, I do have some manners) and joked with the waiter about it.
I'm not sure whom Alan and I know in Little Italy or if that employees there can smell their own industry kind but it seems like every time we dine down there, we end up with freebees. The waiter delivers our check along with a gorgeous platter of fresh fruit laced with Triple Sec. Yay! Big tip for the kindly server. That was a great gesture on his part.
We walked away filled to the brim and satisfied. Not-to-mention, eager to go back sometime soon. Rumor has it that La Dolce Vita still does their live operas and seven course Italian dinner. That sounds like a great way to spend an evening. Hopefully they allow us jeans-clad plebeians in on those nights.
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