Signs We Should Have Recognized . . .

[Fat Guy]

Combining the concepts encompassed by recent threads from Chefette and J. Perlow yields the following question: What are some of the signs you wish you'd recognized that indicated a restaurant meal was inevitably headed towards disaster? What did you do about it? Did you head for the lifeboats or go down with the ship? Tell all.

[bigbear]

Denial is probably going to weigh heavily.

[CooksQuest]

Any restaurant that makes a big deal about offering a diverse selection of hard-to-come-by bread but doesn't take the time to warm it, is my warning sign. I usually end up going down with the ship though...

[Wilfrid]

More than once, the first bad sign was being seated then utterly ignored by the waitstaff. Eventually, I'll wander back to whoever seated me and ask if they want to try it again.

Next up is usually inability to get a wine list and place a wine order, knowing all along that your appetizers are about to appear.

These aren't walk-outs, though. The early walk-out is usually prompted by being offered an appalling table when it appears that others are or should be available - part of Chefette's mistreatment.

[Miguel Gierbolini]

I have a pretty quick trigger for one thing: sit me and forget about me. No menu. No drinks. No nothing. Just waiters and other staff walking back and forth. I get up and leave and if I am up I will not sit down again.

[wingding]

A feeling of indifference about any and all things-sometimes I can feel that attitude pretty quickly,and I will turn around and walk out,before I waste my time and money.

[Double 0]

Ignored right at the door by a greeter who is too busy talking to a waitress (or waiter) about her nails, etc.

[foodgeek]

Most of my friends would go down with the ship regardless...so unless I'm dining alone (which is rare) I don't really have the option to just walk out. I was treated like crap at a Queens Argentine restaurant (by the owner) once....and there was still no way the 2 friends I was with would have walked (party cuz their food was good, and they wanted to go back.) They still eat there although I don't.

Do you guys have dining partners who would just walk out with you?

[Miguel Gierbolini]

Do you guys have dining partners who would just walk out with you?

Yes. My wife.

[High Priestess]

Hi Fat Guy.

For me it's all about the waiter or waitress. If they're not cool and have an uptight vibe rather than a mellow vibe it really bums me out.

Here are some examples:

Waiters who:

-are bitter

-don't care about food and wine

-have, as Woody Allen would say, "absolutely no sense of humor"

There is nothing I like more than going out to dinner, and I'm always super grateful to be there.

So, for me, I just want my person helping me to be happy, too.

Not in a fake, corporate way, but genuinely as themselves.

I waited tables for many years and I would actually get excited when someone ordered a great bottle of wine or some entree they had never tried before, because I loved food and wine too. So it didn't really matter to me that I was the waitress as long as we were talking about wine and cooking, etc.

Having said that, sometimes you just have a really bad night and you just come off wrong, or a table will upset you, or whatever. Waitresses are human beings, not machines.

But as long as the waitress or waiter has gratitude in their heart, I'll put up with almost anything.

If they're uptight or rude, which you can always tell in the first few minutes, I would totally go somewhere else.

[awbrig]

I agree w you Priestess! Nice post...

[ngatti]

Only one story. Back in our salad days I took my fiance (now wife) out to dinner in a pretty fancy local restaurant here in Bergen County. The cost of the meal represented close to a weeks salary to me.

The restaurant was (at the time) a very fancy shmancy french restaurant.

We arrived and were seated at a banquette side by side. Being the young lovers we were, we wanted to sit facing each other. So my wife moved into one of the chairs across from me. The hostess/maitrde'ss, who happened to be the wife part of the husband(chef) wife(front of the house) owners/mgmt team, quickly rushed over to our table to see what was the matter. As we explained what we were doing, she quickly, in her experienced, "I know what's best/follow me" voice told us that we would probably be more comfortable at another table. We then followed her, past groups of expensively tailored men and women, to said table. Very isolated and...RIGHT NEXT TO THE KITCHEN!!

I was kind of vaguely uncomfortable and my fiance was somewhat puzzled. We were very young, this was over twenty years ago. I had very little dining experience and didn't realize we were being played based on our appearence. We were dressed up but not expensively so and we were years younger than anyone else in the place. Upon reflection, it was probably obvious that we didn't fit in. This woman certainly had definite ideas as to who should occupy choice tables at the front of the restaurant.

We proceeded to eat some of the worst imitation french food that I've ever experienced in my life. Talk about a shoemaker. True artificial bistro junk.

I sat and took it. The indignities being piled one upon the other slowly dawning on me. By the time I left I was truly pissed and embarrased. Pissed at myself for taking the treatment like a punk-ass mutha' and embarassed for having it take place in front of my girlfriend. I vowed right then and there that i would never, ever let myself be intimidated by a restaurant again.

Since that time, I have never ceased to trash talk the place at *every* opportunity. Reciting my experience chapter and verse to anyone who'd listen.

Time passes and the restaurant has gone out of business, unable to keep up with the changing culinary scene. The chef has passed away and I've met the wife on a couple of occasions since. Of course she has no idea who I am. On those occasions when she has come into my restaurant to dine she has always been treated graciously and with the utmost respect.

Nick

[rozrapp]

During this past winter, on a Saturday afternoon, I was perusing a NJ food-related web site and came across a glowing review of a fairly new Italian restaurant in the general vicinity of our house. When I showed it to my husband, he suggested that we try it that evening. I called and had no trouble securing a 5:30 p.m. reservation. (We had eaten a late brunch and were happy to eat dinner early.) The restaurant was located in a big strip mall, as are many NJ restaurants. The room was quite large and pleasant, but I don’t remember much about the décor. When we arrived, there were diners at two or three tables. We were seated immediately by a pleasant, though somewhat nervous, young man, whom I judged to be a college student working part-time.

We looked over the menu and, immediately, my husband was totally disappointed that the lasagna that had been raved about in the review, and that he was looking forward to having, was not listed. Turned out it was not a regular item on the menu, but rather, a “special,” offered only irregularly. Strike One! On to selecting the appetizer.

Another item the reviewer raved about was the antipasti platter for two, described by him as being composed of expertly grilled vegetables, succulent slices of various meats, delicious cheese, and fine-quality olives. We ordered it. For the main course, we both chose a veal dish. Not the ubiquitous veal parmigian or picatta, this had some unusual and tasty-sounding ingredients. (It’s too long ago for me to remember the particulars.) My husband ordered a glass of wine. Bread that was neither great nor horrible was brought to the table. We munched away while waiting with great anticipation for the antipasti. What arrived was the proverbial far cry from the reviewer’s description. There were a few scraggly pieces of eggplant and zucchini, which had been grilled to utter dryness; a few very dry-tasting slices of prociutto; several gigantic hunks of awful-tasting cheese (I don’t remember what kind); and a boatload of olives, both green and black, that had surely come out of a jar or can. I asked for some oil and vinegar, which I thought might help, but they did little to improve things. We picked around at the stuff, but didn’t eat much. The young server came by to ask how things were. Not too good, we told him, indicating the mostly uneaten items and explaining how bad they were. He apologized profusely and took the offending plate away. Strike Two!

We were still hoping for a decent main course. However, when the veal was set before us, it was a totally unappetizing mishmash. We each cut a small piece of veal and tasted it. Flavorless and cold! Strike Three!

We called the young server over, told him that this food was also inedible, and that we were leaving. Rather befuddled, he asked whether we would like to order something else instead of the veal. No, we said, just bring us the check. The next thing we knew, the chef was at our table, wanting to know what the problem was. We essentially told him that the food we had been served sucked – though we put it in a more genteel manner. My husband then told him that we had asked the server to bring us our check, at which point the chef said that there would be no charge. We left some cash on the table as a tip for the server and scurried out of there. We didn’t feel much like going to another restaurant at that point, so we went home, where I hastily threw together – continuing the evening’s Italian theme -- a tasty pasta and eggplant main course.

Several weeks later, I read that the chef had left that restaurant and, shortly thereafter, the restaurant closed!

[Jinmyo]

Time passes and the restaurant has gone out of business, unable to keep up with the changing culinary scene.  The chef has passed away and I've met the wife on a couple of occasions since.  Of course she has no idea who I am.  On those occasions when she has come into my restaurant to dine she has always been treated graciously and with the utmost respect.

Yeah.

Right.

ediot:

Just joking, Nick. I know you're a mensch and wouldn't stoop to pettiness.

[ngatti]

Yeah.

Right.

ediot:

Just joking, Nick. I know you're a mensch and wouldn't stoop to pettiness.

It was funnier without the edit, Jin.

Just knowing that I *could have* turned the tables was enough. No need to reply in kind.

Nick

[Beachfan]

A well respected restaurant (listed in Michelin, highly recommended by Frommer's), called Antique Restaurant in Budapest was surprisingly easy to get a reservation. When we arrived, the owner was waiting for us outside.

I wanted to bolt.

But she called out my name, and sure enought the place was empty. It was a gorgeous room, but the emptiness just reinforced my instinct. In fact, I have a rule about not going to empty restaurants. My wife used to think it was silly.

The best part of the experience is now my wife subscribes to the same rule.

The meal was not terrible, but not average for it's class. Unlike every other restaurant that served fois gras, this one served a bloc rather than a tranche of something more akin to fois gras entier. I still hadn't had what I thought was an obligatory chicken paprikash. It was pretty mild and boring. And my wife's vegetarian plate stood out as the most mundane in the city.

Thankfully, the meal was quick. Too bad, it was our last night, and I almost went back to Alabardos, which was superb and should have had a Michelin star (no starred restaurants in Budapest).

[mb7o]

Ah yes, why I will never buy a Michelin guide.

In some large town in Spain, after having been mistreated by RIck Steve's guide, we bought a Michelen. No starred or otherwise indicated restarants, so we picked one with a nice looking menu and a bunch of red forks-and-spoons or whatever they put in their listings.

The waiter had a nice tuxedo. The room had nice paint. The place settings were fine. The place was mostly empty, and the food was horrible. We stayed (it was the main course which was the worst), but when another party of Americans came in we suggested they leave, which they did.

After that we got desert (it was a fixed menu), which was fine. Hopefully it wasn't poisined after we tried to complain about the food (I speak minimal spanish, the waiter minimal english) and clearly sent some other cusomers packing.

Later on that trip we did ask for the check the moment the food arrived, it was some train station restaurant which had completely inedible steak frites. Even later we bought a Zagat for Paris, which elimiated all the bad luck we'd been having. Knock it all you want, it was far better than any other guidebook and our random luck on that trip.

[bigbear]

Just knowing that I *could have* turned the tables was enough.  No need to reply in kind.

Good for you.

[Really Nice!]

A few months late, but here's my two experiences:

CIA at Greystone Napa Valley:

I ordered a steak, which was disappointing. I purposely ordered it because I felt that this is the item (meat) that can define the quality of a restaurant. For some reason they gave me what looked, and felt, like a Ginsu knife to cut it. Rather than slicing through, it tore through it, with bits of flesh being pulled away with each cut. It was cooked properly, medium-rare. It had a nice gradual shifting of color from a brown exterior to a pink interior. But it was very tough. Very disappointing for $28.

It was served with braised endive, béarnaise sauce and pommes frites (potatoes cut at 1/3 x 1/3 x 2.5 inches, i.e french fries). Unfortunately the béarnaise sauce covered the steak, and the steak covered the fries. This tells me either the cook screwed up the hash marks, or the chef doesn't know presentation skills. You should never cover a grilled protein with a sauce. The caramelization on the meat was softened because the sauce covered it, causing steam. Most of the fries were soggy from the meat. And the endive was extremely watery which diminished the effect of the steak and wine.

Some restaurant on Vancouver Island:

This was on a company retreat. Long story short we had three choices since we had a large crowd. the menu said steak with béarnaise sauce. (Hmm, I'm begnning to see a patern). It was a small steak, once again steamed with the covered with sauce and a handful of dried tarragon. Why didn't they put that on the menu? I cannot think of any other herb that has such a flavor profile difference between its fresh and dried states. Fresh is okay, I just can't swallow the dried stuff. It's a bad, tinny, bitter taste that doesn't leave my mouth for hours. It's like having a wad of aluminum foil in your mouth; only it's a different pain. This is the only dish in my life that I ever returned to the kitchen without even taking a bite.

Edited December 7, 2002 by Really Nice! (log)

[Margaret Pilgrim]

Whow! Where was this question 40 years ago? In the course of that many years we have experience/endured/been sucked into many situations in which we should have simply walked out.

1) The waiter who was so obvious sick that he could barely take our order. To make matters worse, this was a seafood restaurant on the northeast coast, and we ordered cold food. Needless to say, four days later, both of us were sicker than dogs three thousand miles from home. In the same vein, I remember two times when people making me ice cream cones sneezed during or shortly before making my cone. Moral: If the server looks sick, walk out and/or dump the cone/any food in the nearest dumpster.

2) When you arrive and they can't find your reservation, but find you a cubicle somewhere between two support columns and a supporting wall. It's just not going to get better during the meal, and you can only sit humped over for so long.

3) When you sit through two courses in such overwhelmingly deafening noise that you can't carry on a twosome conversation. At this point, we do walk out. Often, the noise escalates as the meal progresses, and it's hard to pinpoint it early on.

Most of the really awful meals I recall didn't have any red flags, just a succession of poorly executed courses. Because all of these occurred in places with top or near the top reputations, we stayed to the bitter end, simply resolving not to return. This number includes a good dozen of the top restaurants in my town. I must assume that these were simply "off nights", but the numbers are really troubling.

I guess my best thought is that if you are really unhappy, cut your losses and leave. It probably won't get better.

Also, I must encore Beachfan: an empty dining room is never a recommendation.

[jaybee]

An empty dining room should be a sure sign to flee for your life. We didn't once and learned to regret it. I laughed that I called from the road to say we'd be late and could they hold a table. There was an odd silence in the backgound when the woman said "no problem."

This was Hattie's Chicken Shack in Saratoga Springs. It was written up to have the best fried chcken north of the MD line. McNuggets would have been better! Hattie was 93 and had been bought out ten years previous.

Nothing of her remained except her name.

It's still there.

[Bux]

a bunch of red forks-and-spoons

It may be worth noting that the more forks and spoons, the fanicer the restaurant and the higher the price. Red indicates a particularly interesting or lovely decor, but neither the number of forks and spoons nor the color says much of anything about the food. My goal is to find the places with the most stars and least forks. Nevertheless, I've not found a guide book that was totally reliable and some cities just don't have terribly good restaurants. All a guide book can do is point our the best looking ones or the least bad ones. It's a lot easier to find good restaurants in Paris perhaps than in many cities in Spain and not all that reasonable to blame or praise the guides which are merely the messengers of that news.

seated at a banquette side by side

I've always considered that the most favorable position in a restaurant. When I'm seated facing my wife who is seated on the banquette and down the row another couple is seated side by side occupying twice as much linear space and both facing the room, I know they're either more important than I am or pretty lucky.

I do tend to agree with those who are impatient about being served. At a highly aticipated meal in a two star restaurant in a small town in France we were ignored for what seemed like an interminable time after we declined to order aperatifs. We did enter the restaurant at about the same time as many other diners, but had we not been dependant on their jitney to drive us back to their inn outside of the town, it might have been more reasonable to leave. Nevertheless, we stewed for a while until they brought menus and started to pay attention to us. From there on, the attention was nonstop and the meal turned out to be one of the more noteworthy meals of all our travels in France and we did have a an excellent table with a view of the garden in what I judged to be the better room. My wife said the latter was because I was wearing a tie and I suppose she was correct. The jackets and ties were in our room and the jeans and sweaters in the other room. When Fat Guy was planning a trip to France I heard he was going to be in the region and I insisted he not allow himself to pass this place by. The moral of my story. I don't know. I'm still learning how to eat, taste food and get the best out of a meal.

Empty restaurant still scare me a bit, but I've had lovely meals in the oddest places in empty restaurants and terrible meals in restaurants that are full. Sometimes it's important to know what everyone else is eating. I remember a terrible fish dinner in a packed restaurant in France. It finally downed on me that no one was eating anything that was cooked. They were all having oysters and raw seafood.

[cabrales]

A sommelier who heads a large team of sommeliers at a two-star in London, and who is known for liking to sell expensive wine. I order an ordinary wine (for that restuarant), and he is extremely chatty, commenting about the wine even before serving it and providing comp'd champagne. Throughout the evening, even though he has many other clients, he is constantly by my table. I am trying to sample the dishes (not that they were particularly impressive), but he remains very chatty and referring to the various senses available to a person. He talks about trips to France for selecting wine, and how many cellar storage spaces he has in London and Paris. Of course, the inevitable question: whether I wanted to see one of his off-site cellars under some sort of bridge or building, posed after he gave me a plateful of perhaps 6-7 physallis (after I commented I liked the one physallis in the plate of mignardise).

[southern girl]

mmmm....gooseberries...plain?

Edited December 7, 2002 by southern girl (log)

[jaybee]

whether I wanted to see one of his off-site cellars under some sort of bridge or building, posed after he gave me a plateful of perhaps 6-7 physallis (after I commented I liked the one physallis in the plate of mignardise).

Cabby, you are priceless.

...The Girl, The Physallis and The Sommelier...a mini series