As many people who have spent the time reading this blog know, I have never been a big fan of Restaurant Week. I find that it's usually a means to get people in on the cheap, serve them marginal food at best and the service is generally grudgingly polite and semi-professional. And if a table chooses to not drink, the service loses most of the professional. That being said, there are places that choose to use this bargain week to showcase what they can do, albeit in smaller portions, in the hopes of getting new diners out of it.
So, wanting to try The Marliave (I had only been there for cocktails and one extra olive oil-y meat plate), L and I decided to give it a shot last night, thinking that at the very least, we'd not lose in the cost/flavor analysis and perhaps come away with a win for the night.
We made the decision last minute and were able to get a reservation for 9pm on Open Table around 8pm. Perhaps a little odd on a Friday night, but times are tight and if memory serves, RW people tend to want to eat on the early side. Whoever says that the economy is picking up must not be visiting higher end eating establishments.
We change into our going out to dinner clothing and hit the T to Park Street, where we walk to the alley that The Marliave is hidden down and make it to the joint. They have a little patio area, which is actually the alley itself, nestled between the restaurant proper and whatever the building across the alley happens to house. The patio was full with diners, the restaurant not so much. When we walk in and tell the hostess that we made a reservation on Open Table, she gave us a look like she had never heard of the service. So, she either didn't know about Open Table or simply didn't check the computer. I'm opting for the latter. She offered us seating outdoors, but we opted to sit upstairs instead of waiting for a patio table to open up and are seated at a table in the middle of the dining room. I asked for a corner table that was open and bussed (as many of the tables were) yet not cleaned and reset. As the hostess sowly weighed the question, a server wandered to that same table and started to drop some bread plates and napkins. The table was ours. The hostess came back to finish setting the table for us and, for some reason, brought enough silverware to set the entire 4-top even though only 2 people were sitting there. Fortunately, she didn't set all 4 seats and did pull the extra settings from the table.
The dining room has the appearance of being a place that was once really nice but has fallen on hard times. The sconces that housed some larger candles were unlit and the candles that were there hadn't been lit in a while. They looked to have been filled with tea candles that had started to burn through the candles they were resting in. Our votive was cracked and the paint used on our table was on the tacky side.
So, we are seated, we are noticing the lack of people in the dining room and wait for our server. He shows up and asks us about drinks. I know the guy, we used to work together. Actually, at one point, he worked for me. I know he's a good server, but I also notice that he's checked out and not interested in what he's doing. That aside, I am hoping that because he knows me, he'll at least give me a little better treatment than what I see happening at his other tables. L doesn't drink and I didn't know what I wanted, so we decline alcoholic libations. He wanders off and we sit looking at the Restaurant Week menu as well as the regular menu. We notice that they are offering essentially the same menu whichever choice one makes. I'm guessing that the portions would be different if one opted for the heftier pricing of the regular menu. We decide what we are going to have and I took a gander at the wine list, hoping to find something that would be a surprise and reasonably priced. I opted for a glass of Montepulciano. The server asked me to tell him what I thought about it. That's never a good comment and I almost immediately realized he knew me well enough to know that I wasn't going to like the wine. However, I took my chances. He was right. I took a sip and couldn't decide if the wine was either bad or just sucked. It was limp on the front palate and tasted like prune juice on the back. It wasn't good at all. He later brought two tastes of other glass pours that they have, but neither of them managed to really move me. The server blamed it on the economy and the restaurant trying to make concessions for the more value oriented diner. I just think it was a poor choice for a glass pour made by a person who wasn't interested in the glass program. I used to run a beverage program and know that there are decent, inexpensive wines out there if one knows where to look and trusts their reps. This was simply an indication of a lack of care. That, in a nutshell, is the problem with not having a good glass program; people who would have a glass or two have none because they aren't looking for a bottle and can't find anything worth drinking on the glass list, so the restaurant loses that sale. And, of course, i'll not go there and expect to have a glass of wine ever. I'll know that if I want a dinner and good glass, i'll have to go elsewhere. Not a problem, there are plenty of places that have a nice glass list and want my money.
We get our bread; which i'm really excited about, as I understand that they have a bakery and make all of their own bread on premise. It's supposed to be a foccacia, but what we get is dense, bland and oily. The olive oil served at the table has no discernible flavor profile, but the olives on the plate of olive oil are tasty. Too damned bad they gave a table of two only three olives. Instead of fighting over the last olive, I offered it to L.
The apps finally arrive, a little too long after ordering them in my formerly professional opinion, a beet salad for me and crab cakes for L. Her app comes on a plate that is for too large for them and makes them appear lost, as if they need a navigation system to find their way to her fork. My beet salad with goat cheese and balsamic has better plating and looks pretty tasty. Bright red beets set off with the creamy white goat cheese and light green mache. We dig in. Her crab cakes are tasty, but a little too much onion for my taste. The spicy aioli was more mild than I would have expected, but in all, the cakes were good. The beet salad had an assortment of candied nuts to add some texture and crunch, but were a little stale. The salad, after the addition of some salt (which I had to ask a passing server for, I guess that they don't see the need to allow people to add their own seasonings, and ordinarily, I don't need to), was actually quite delightful.
I will state that the wait time for the first course was a little excessive. I think that it shouldn't have taken as long as it did to get a pair of crab cakes and some beets to a table. The wait between courses was also probably a little long, but L did order the Wellington (I kept making "Hell's Kitchen" jokes while we were waiting for it), so I can forgive the delay. I ordered the Sunday Gravy; gnocchi and a sauce made with San Marzano tomatoes, lamb, beef and pork. The first pair of plates to hit our table look like a sandwich and steak frites. I'm pretty sure that neither of us ordered these, so before the runners leave the food at our table and before we touch anything, I mention that this food doesn't appear to be ours. Indeed, it belongs to a table across the dining room from us. Fortunately for them, they were blissfully ignorant of that fact and fell into their food with gusto. I'll admit, those fries looked tasty and that sandwich looked good. However, it wasn't our food.
Eventually, our dinner arrived, my gnocchi and L's Wellington. Her dinner was a little underdone, but she didn't care, we both like our meat somewhat on the rare side. The flavors were all there, though. A smallish hint of fois gras (c'mon, it's a 30$ meal, any amount of foie gras is a bit of a bonus), mushrooms, a wonderfully cooked pastry crust and a nice red wine reduction for some acid balanced the meal out. There weren't any sides, which was rather odd. One might expect some sort of something on the plate to balance all that richness, but nope, nothing there. The meat was tender and, as usual for tenderloin, dependant on the sauce, the pastry, the mushrooms and fois gras for its flavor. I know, I know, someone out there is going to start getting upset for that comment, but hey, it's my opinion and my blog. I happen to think that meat with no fat is meat with no flavor. If there had been more to the dish, I would have a longer description, but there wasn't, the dish wasn't mine and that's that.
My gnocchi was quite nice. The pillows were firm yet wonderfully soft, not at all overworked and pulled from the pot at just the right moment. The gnocchi is certainly in my list of tops in the city. The gravy was nice, but a little missing in the umame category. The meats were nice, but the beef was a little on the gummy, fatty side (I know, I said that fat matters when referring to meats, but there's also a limit on the amount that is acceptable with braised meats. I'm a little bit picky, it's my right) and the lamb didn't give my dish the gamey tilt that I was looking for. The tomatoes, which I would have expected to add a little acidic sweetness, were overwhelmed by the saltiness of the liquid in the dish. It needed, I think, a little hint of heat. Perhaps a dash of even something as innocuous as white pepper. Maybe a little sweet red bell pepper for sweetness. How about some sausage for depth? Any one of those things probably would have pushed the meal over for me and moved from nice to really damned good. Then again, I could be wrong about the whole thing.
We filled up quickly, one thing that I have to give the Marliave is that they don't skimp on the portions. One gets a meal for the money one spends. If these were lighter versions, there is very little chance that I could eat an entire meal at that joint without a table full of very hungry friends. The server bagged up our remnants and we ordered dessert. I got the Boston Creme Pie and L ordered the chocolate bomb. Desserts arrived and I take a look at our finishing touches for our Restaurant Week first (and maybe last) dinner. My dessert looks like a little cake, which is what I expect. L's dessert looks like a breast. I'm not joking. It's a chocolate mousse atop a chocolate cake covered with a ganache shell, some fresh whipped cream and a single red raspberry settled in right at the tip of the shell. So, in all, the dessert looked like a breast. Laughter and jokes ensued, but then we dug in. My dessert, from a person who doesn't eat dessert, was really yummy. It was a great rendition of a classic. Rich, creamy filling layered between two soft cakes, covered in dark chocolate and a wonderfully flavored vanilla sauce. L's wasn't as great, but it was still pretty good. I finished as much of the dessert as I wanted and offered the rest to L. Her dessert was a little on the dry side as far as the cake was concerned, the mousse was fine and the shell okay. The highlights of her dessert were the fresh whipped cream and the caramel sauce.
Finally, we finish up, pay our tab and head back out into the warm summer night; walking slowly b/c of L's new heels (ask her if you're interested in that kind of stuff) and enjoying the slightly too full feeling of a night spent eating like it was "Big Night", which is a meal that is replicated over at Grotto, which is the sister restaurant of The Marliave, and one that I would recommend. Probably with a little more gusto than The Marliave. It wasn't bad, but it wasn't great. I can't help but wonder if it was just Restaurant Week or something more.
For those who have missed Lee the Bartender since he wandered out of the South End, I'm pleased to announce he's back. Catch him Wed-Sunday at 28 Degrees.
So, Sel de la Terre in the Back Bay (there are several other locations, but this is the only one i've been to) has several specials that they run. L and I decided to hit it up for the lunch special a Monday past, 17.50$ gets one a three course prix fix lunch (beverages extra, of course) at night, 35$ will do the same thing. They also, on Monday nights, have what they call "Magical Monday", where a buck will get one an oyster or a choice of several charcuterie (when we went, it was all porky goodness, including a pig heart la plancheta, they have a thing for pork and planks).
The joint is nice enough, still has that new car smell about it and although the bicycles suspended from the ceiling are a little scary (some sort of installation thing I guess, something that might make one think of France, makes me think of my childhood), they are fairly innocuous. As a matter of fact, my companion didn't notice them the first time we went there for the lunch. She did when we went there for the buck tapas.
Noise levels are dicey, as the place is located on Boylston Street across from the Apple Store and there is plenty of traffic to provide both noise and the sweet smell of exhaust from the large open windows. Still, however, there is enough "this place doesn't seem to belong here" to help keep the dream alive that one isn't, in fact, sitting within eyeshot of the Apple Store and stumbling distance of Gucci.
Our bartender was a quiet young man, not pleasant, not unpleasant, just there. He had a partner, but that gentleman never did stop by our end of the bar. We asked if there were special cocktails that weren't on the menu and he told us about that night's beverage; a mixture of vodka, midori, sour and sparkling wine, if I remember correctly. He looked a little ashamed and we, of course, didn't order that. I ordered a sazerac and L. ordered a gin cocktail. We finally got around to ordering our apps, a dozen dollar oysters and one of each of the other dollar apps; a pig heart on a plank, a pork terrine and a slider of pork salad.
The people sitting at and around the bar were a melange of different types; some people who seemed to be there to help someone celebrate the end of higher education, ladies who dine, men who cocktail and those ladies who like to hang out with them until they get to Club Cafe.
Our food arrived as we were halfway into our cocktails. The plating was fine, but the slider was sitting on this entirely too large plate with absolutely no frills. There was nothing on the plate to garnish the little bovine sandwich, it was merely there, alone, sliding about as the plate was carried from the upstairs kitchen to us. It more than likely belonged on a smaller plate with perhaps a dollop of something green. Yes, I know, it's a buck, why am I bitching? I'm kevetching because this place could have spent the same amount of money on this app and put it on a smaller plate so that it's lack of size weren't as pronounced. Unless, of course, that was the plan. Regardless, the slider was tasty, but rather bland. The pig heart was my personal fave, it was tender, flavorful and completely plank-free. The terrine was L's fave. She was a fan of it's silky texture and the generous portion we were served. Why it was served with a jam is beyond me, it was fine right off the plate. I would stay away from the sweet part of the dish and focus on the meat. Finally, the oysters weren't at all wonderful. They were smallish, which would be fine in and of themselves. What wasn't acceptable was the fact that they were shabbily prepared. The ones that I had were filled with bits of shell and most of them had no liquor. So, we were left with oysters in name, only. An oyster with no liquor isn't, imho, an oyster at all. I don't add much to my bivalves, sometimes a dash of cocktail, mainly a little lemon juice. These would have been tasty, had it not been for the shell and the liquor, they were briny and sweet. I really wanted to love them, but couldn't.
We were still hungry, so we decided to split a burger. I will say that the burger was good, although my decision to get chips instead of fries was one that I regretted. The burger was filled with locally sourced meat, veggie and cheese. They were kind enough to split it for us before it arrived at the bar, which goes a long way for me. The burger was juicy, not particularly remarkable, however. i think that the pig heart on a plank was my fave part of the meal.
We toyed with the idea of dessert, but not being a big dessert person myself and L. not being hungry enough for one on her own, we opted out and got off the bar stools to head on home.
In all, I wouldn't say no to another night at Sel de la Terre in the Back Bay. Would I seek it out or crave it? Perhaps not for buck oysters. To be honest, 28 Degrees does buck oysters better 7 days a week from 5-7, Tues-Thurs, it's extended to 10pm. I might seek it out if i'm in the area and want a cocktail experience that i'm used to getting at Eastern Standard or Craigie on Main. I'm withholding final judgement until I hit it up for a proper meal. Until then, do stop by for the prix fix lunch and a nice adult beverage, just avoid the oysters. And do get some of that yummy homemade bread.
So, last night we decided to go out for dinner, it was to be my payment for working for Therapy today since the person who was marked for the shift was ill. I wanted sushi, but since it was a coldish night and L thinks of sushi as a warmer weather meal, we decided to hit up Tratorria Toscana across the street from Thaiation here in the Fenway.
When we arrived, we were greeted literally as we walked in by a server who was either starting intently out the window or just happened to have a second sense for the sudden drop in air pressure (or even temp) caused by people opening the door. The entry was cordoned off by some very heavy curtains, meant to fend off the cold air of chilly nights (which is also a fire hazard - section 6, section 34a, first comment- and if the Marshall ever came in, they would be ordered to remove them, but that's another story), and he caught us before we even split the curtain to walk in. He asked us if we were there to eat, we answered in the affirmative, and he sat us at the only table that was actually set. There were at least two, perhaps three, empty tables in better locations, but none had been reset, so we got a table right at the curtain.
The servers (there were two, and they seemed to be sharing the entire dining room, which made sense, it's a small space that probably doesn't seat more than 60 people (i'm probably being generous) and there is no real need for bussers or even more servers, in that space, more staff would have created a nightmare situation. There wasn't enough space for more staff wandering the floor; the tables were crammed together so tightly that one's conversation was fair game for anyone sitting nearby), were all over us when we first sat down, not really giving us time to peruse the menu and make up our minds regarding what we might want to eat or even drink. Looking at the wine list, I was a little disappointed at the lack of vision or interest in finding some exciting offerings as well as the pricing structure of the list. Everything was a little more expensive than it should have or needed to be. As well, there were only a few glass offerings, none of which were all that great. For a place that only had wine as the alcohol offering, one would have expected that there was more thought put into not only what was offered, but what price it was offered at. I expect that they don't move much wine, really. So, I took a glass of the 8$ primitivo (related to the Zinfandel and Crljenak Kaštelanski, a grape of Croatian origin) , which was so boring that I can't even be bothered to remember the name. Until after we ordered, the servers were all over us, hovering like vultures, unaware of the soft sell. After we ordered, they couldn't be found for anything. Meaning, our water glasses were empty less than halfway into the apps (b/c I poured all the contents of my glass into L's) and we didn't get more water until well into the second course. Odd mix of attentive, aggressive and unaware.
We ordered three courses, the antipasti, a ravioli with house-made sausage and broccoli rabe, a paparadelle with wild boar ragout, and a braised lamb shank to share. They did bring us bread and oil, which should have been the primary indication of what we were in for as far as dinner was concerned. The bread, while decent, was obviously on the old side, as it was tough in a "sat in a bowl too long without being covered" way, though good. The oil blend, however, was without any real flavor that could be addressed. It was dusted with dried Italian herbs, almost as if the chef didn't see the need in doing more than grabbing a bottle of Durkee Italian Seasoning and shaking some of the contents onto the oil. There was a little balsamic in the oil, as well. Overall, not a tremendously impressive showing of what has become Italian restaurant industry standard bread service. Still, we nibbled, as we were hungry and needed to get something into our systems. We joked about asking for butter to add some sort of flavor to the complimentary bread.
The antipasti came out, a salami and a regular and spicy sopressata; parmesan, a mild cheese that they didn't name and a gorgonzola. As well, there were little points of grilled bread drizzled with the same bland oil and dusted with the dried herbs. The salumi was fine, but all way too salty to really impress us with whatever flavor they might have been hiding. I know that cured meats are salty, but I have, in my experience, noted that the better meats have a balance of salt to them. Not so much, here. As well, in the center of the dish, there was a ramekin of vinegar cured button mushrooms and olives. The mushrooms tasted as if they had come out of a bottle I could have found in the International foods isle at Shaw's. The olives had no special quality to them at all.
Our pasta course arrived before we had even finished our antipasti, so we set it aside to sample the ravioli and paparadelle. The ravioli was deceptive in the description, reading as if it was a ravioli with a filling made of the sausage and broccoli rabe. Actually, it tasted more of a frozen ravioli with the standard ricotta filling (that was still a little cold) and topped with a sauce made from the sausage and broccoli rabe. It was a unspectacular dish with nothing that would set it apart from anything we could have managed to make with little prep time at home. My paparadelle was a little better, the ragout was nice enough, if a little on the greasy side. The pasta was well-cooked, although not tasting of home-made, did taste fresh. We both agreed that I make a better pasta than we were eating.
Finally, after setting these courses aside and getting them boxed up, our lamb arrived. The menu stated that it was a braised lamb shank, and we are both fans of lamb, so we were extremely excited about the idea of a braised shank. Braising is a means of cooking a meat so that what is normally a tough and unpleasant dining experience becomes wonderful. Fork tender and falling off the bone is what we were expecting. What we got was stringy and tough. Something that was covered in some orange tinted film of sorts. It made me think of the gelatin crap that Neo clawed off his body when removed from the Matrix or the junk that the alien clones from "Invasion of the Body Snatchers", the 1978 version, had all over their bodies when they were popped from the pods. I mentioned the Neo thought to L. and was not received well. Although I still think that it was an accurate assessment. So, after digging through whatever that gunk was (it tasted like it was supposed to be some sort of sauce or something, perhaps tightened up with corn starch, as it wasn't really as concentrated with the flavors one might expect from a true reduction. Of course, the fact that it stuck to the meat like it was a parasite didn't help. The roasted potatoes that also shared plate space were fine, but came off underdone in the center, leaving them relatively undesirable. The spinach, which I didn't taste, I was told was acceptable. Digging into the lamb, we were both surprised at how unbraised it turned out to be. It was so unpleasant, we both opted to take it with us, thinking that I might be able to make more out of it than what we were delivered. (For the record, I used that lamb for a hash this morning with the potatoes and scrambled eggs. It was better than last night, but it was hard to get past the stringy toughness of the meat.) There was not a visible indicator of the meat ever having been seared before being slow-cooked. It actually didn't even seem that the meat had seen the business end of any sort of slow cooking peripheral. Everything that was supposed to break down and become heart-wrenchingly tender didn't. Braised lamb was a terrible failure and should never have been on the menu.
All through the meal, we were busy overhearing the conversation of the couple seated next to us. Close enough, really, to be our double-date. They were LOVING everything. And, at some level, I felt bad that we weren't enjoying ourselves; if only because we weren't hiding our vocalizations of our lack of satisfaction of the meal. Still, to each their own.
Perhaps, it can all be summed up with the fact that the Chef was seated behind us the entire time nibbling on misc. foods and drinking wine while chatting up what I can only guess were some pals. On a Saturday night? Really? That's what's most important? Who is in the kitchen on one of what's supposed to be the busiest nights of the week?! Hell, if he were going to be in the dining room, at least work a table or two. Fail.
In all, a meal worth forgetting. If there were a place such as the one in "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind", I would suggest that L. and I hit it up. Except, if we did, we might end up going there again. So, in all, please stay away if you are picky and expect more from a Tuscan eatery than satisfactory. Lucca is a better bet. They have an amazing wild boar ragout. As in, one you won't soon forget.
The trouble with dining out for me these days boils down to a simple cost-benefit analysis. I simply rarely feel as if i'm getting what i'm paying for when I hit up some joint in the city looking for a meal.
I cook well, as does my partner, and I can manage to recreate most things that I taste and enjoy. It's a fun and useful talent I have that has allowed me to make changes to meals that I have tried that I think can be a little better if it only had x. Add to that my history in the restaurant industry and my default setting of highly critical (of myself as much as anything else), and we have a set of expectations that might be considered difficult to reach at best. Not impossible, however.
I'm fairly adept at placing my bar at what I consider an appropriate level for the establishment i'm going to. I expect what I think that particular establishment should expect of itself. Hence, if I walk into Longhorn, I hope for good food, properly done steaks and casual, yet competent, service. If I hop over to Pho Pasteur for a bowl of Pho, I expect to be served efficiently and get a good, cheap bowl of grub. If I find myself crossing the Charles and hitting up Craigie On Main, i'd better be blown away by the ambiance, service should be impeccable and the food needs to be off the charts amazing. My sliding scale is, I think, fair and i'm generous enough to cut some slack when some aspect of the experience is close enough. Hell, I started my restaurant career busing tables at Chi-Chi's, the IHOP of Mexican cuisine; I know better than to expect more out of a place than it should, or could, be attempting to deliver.
I've also had the amazingly good fortune to have dined in some of the world's best dining cities; small sidewalk cafés in Paris, home cooking in Soave, the best Pasta E Fagioli that I have ever encountered in Verona, regional specialties in Charleston, Craft in New York (as well as Magnolia Restaurant and other places that were wonderful and I think of fondly), the amazing local fruits and vegetables (and wine) of the Willamette (say it like one would say dammit) Valley, Lilette and many other fabulous New Orleans restaurants (not to mention the dives that I hit up when i'm down there. Man, I love me some New Orleans) as well as plenty of places in Atlanta, my hometown.
So, what do I expect in a restaurant that is among the non-negotiable? I should start with a clean place that is at least thoughtfully decorated. It doesn't have to be the eatery equivalent of the Taj or the Ritz, unless it is the Taj or the Ritz, but it should at least not be tossed together like some sort of Pollock painting. As nice as a Pollock looks on a wall, it's a confined space that contains the art. If a Pollock were to take up 1200 square feet, it might not seem as interesting. Abstract Expressionism is not, imho, the best means of showcasing one's artistic vision in a restaurant. What is is more along the lines of something that fits the theme of the restaurant. Lighting is also a part of this. Nice lighting can make a fairly drab or unattractive place during high light conditions appear beautiful. Conversely, bad lighting can make a great place look like, well, for want of a more pithy comment, Hell.
Fitting music that isn't too obtrusive is also key. When I wander in to a place, the last thing I want is to be assailed by the musical choices of the owners and/or managers. Yes, I know that everyone really likes to play "Thievery Corporation" and "Lebanese Blonde" is still the de-facto theme song of any place that fancies itself top shelf, but that doesn't mean that it has to be played at a volume level that would be more fitting in a disco. As well, CHR is always a bad choice. If I wanted to listen to KISS FM, rest assured the last place I would go to do so is somewhere i'm going to pony up a good deal of cash for some food and alcohol. Music is one of those things that I can't help but pay attention to and it really can impact my enjoyment of a meal.
Greeting at the door, or how i'm treated on the phone when (and if) I call up to talk to someone can be crucial for me. If I feel at all like i'm being judged or there is too much attitude, I will (and have) leave. I don't pretend to be someone i'm not when I dine out. I don't have much in the way of nice clothing, although I do suppose I should get myself into a suit or at least a fairly dressy pair of pants just in case, but the clothing that I do have is of good quality and not at all cheap (I get almost all of my clothing from either Jean Therapy or Therapy, I do have a lot of tee's from Threadless, however.) or shoddy. I am fond of jeans and Nikes, that's who I am. If we still lived in a world where people did really get dressed up to go to a dinner that could run upwards of 100$, I might understand the 'tude, but we don't. There are almost no restaurants that continue to have a real dress code. Dress codes are now almost soley used by nightclubs to keep people out. (Mainly non-white people, but that's a different story and this isn't the blog to address that) So, when I walk in somewhere with my Denim of Virtues and Ted Baker shirt on, I do not expect to be considered anything less than the guest that I intend to be. Besides, these people don't know me, they have no idea of my history in the industry, the fact that I was invited to, and went, Pinot Camp; staying as a guest in the Archery Summit guest house, that I know all sorts of people in this city, including the owners of Brix, the owner of Eastern Standard and many wine reps in the area. I get around, I know people, I am not to be pigeonholed into the "lesbian bad tipper" or "female, dressed down, not going to eat or drink" groups. When I go out to eat, I go out to eat. Drop the 'tude and give me a seat. Speaking Writing of seating, don't ever put me in the middle of an empty dining room thinking that i'll be okay with it. I won't. It's rude and shows that the offending establishment has no concern or care for the guests it serves.
To the interior. The seating should be clean as should the table. I have been seated at a table before that wasn't cleaned well and had shmeg on the seats. This might be okay on the T, but wipe the seats and clean the damned table if you expect me to spend money and trust that your food won't be prepared with the same lack of attention to detail.
Service should be efficient and thoughtful. Don't make me sit waiting for you to get to me. Whoever gets the chance to serve me should really care about what they are doing and know about what they serve. I never went into work when I was a server/bartender/manager not caring about the people I was going to be helping out. It's inconsiderate and unprofessional. If I ask a question, either know the correct answer or be honest, tell me you don't and find out. Conversely, don't think that I don't know about the food or wine on your menu. I went out to Oleana once for a very important meal and the server was condescending, assuming I didn't know what something was simply because I asked a question about something else. And yes, when i'm not spending my money, I will peruse the wine list and make a choice based on my wine knowledge that is not the most expensive thing on the menu. Don't make presumptive decisions about who I am because I ordered the 40$ bottle that I already know is the best deal on the menu, being tasty and not too pricey. I'll pony up the cash for a great bottle of something when the money being spent is mine or I have been addressed beforehand by the person paying that I should get something nice. I care about other people's money. And I appreciate it when they are being kind enough to buy me a meal.
The food needs to be served at the correct temperature and as presented on the menu. If there is a change due to some item being 86'd, tell me before the food hits the table. Pay attention to what I request. If I ask not to have something, there is a reason. I don't use the "i'm allergic" line because I know how dangerous allergies are and wouldn't presume to cheapen anyone's allergies. I do, however, expect that if I ask for a change, it be addressed. I personally don't believe in the "Chef has a vision" line. It's no the chef who's eating the food i'm paying for, it's me. If the chef doesn't like it, tough. Unless something is prepared in advance and a change can't be made, make it. This goes for substitutions, as well. I once went to Ashmont Grill and they actually had the hubris to tell me that the kitchen didn't make substitutions, meaning that I would have to settle for hash browns instead of the french fries that I really wanted. Yes, I wasn't allowed to sub one type of potato for another.
Finally, don't force me to wait for my check when i'm ready to go. When i'm ready to leave, i'm ready to leave. Besides, turning that table means more money in the server's pocket.
End of tirade.