From the Wanda Adams column:
A P.S.: When Longhi's opened at Ala Moana Center, I thought perhaps the Perfect Breakfast had finally arrived: easy parking, great view, etc. But a visit on a weekday when only three tables were occupied proved disappointing — overdone bacon, dry waffles and inattentive coffee service. However, we got two e-mails recommending it (neither identified themselves or gave much description), so I'll be going back soon.
This is just pathetic. Of all the places in the world NOT to recommend, Longhi's is at the top of my list.
I posted about it in the "Spam & Mac Salad
" thread, and I'll dredge it up here.
My husband and I were in Lahaina in March of 2000, and I'd done my homework before the trip. We went to Longhi's for brunch after hearing all the praise. Well, guess what? The owner of Longhi's ruined our meal. I, of course, knew it was Robert Longhi at the table next to us, surrounded by sycophants and sheep, yessing him up one side and down another. He sat there, bragging and profane and completely obnoxious— "F--- them!" and "S--- on them!" over and over and over. In front of children and babies, at top volume. He was holding court, and felt that profanity was clearly the missing spice from everyone's meals.
At one point, Bob turned around and said, "Sir. You are profane and you are obnoxious. Would you please keep it down?" and turned back to his meal. Of course, little goodie goodie me, I wanted to fall through the floor even though I was a customer of that braying jackass.
Longhi turned to his table and said in a stagey voice, "Oh. I see. I should talk to the owner about that!" and they all laughed in that nervous and polite way that suck-ups do. They were probably hoping he wouldn't start swearing again. He laughed at his own anemic joke, and we finished our meal and left. (He was noticeably quieter after Bob took the wind out of his sails, thank God.)
What he should have done was apologized and made amends—bought us a drink or dessert or anything that indicated he knew he'd made a mistake.
But no-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o. Not Robert Longhi. Clearly he's got an ego the size of the pre-combusted Hindenberg.
Later that day, we were at the grocery store and I got out of the car only to come face to face with you-know-who. GASP! I threw myself back in the car—he recognized me and suddenly got very busy with something in his back seat. Bob was howling with laughter at my nervousness. Finally Robert "Longh-ego" drove off and I could get out of the car.
We told our hosts at the inn where we were staying, and she got the biggest kick out of that. "Nobody likes that guy! He's just awful!" She loved the public upbraiding from Bob, and I bet she told everyone she knows.
So. I don't eat at Longhi's.
Blecghck!!! A pox on Longhi's!