On Monday night I went to Washington Park for dinner with my parents, who live out of town, and a client of my father's. I made the reservations before (literally 30 seconds before) reading a very negative post about the place. What does one 'hounder know though, right? So I kept the reservation. To my disdain, Monday, about 2 hours before the scheduled meal, there was a second negative post. Figures.
In any case, we went, and here are my thoughts on the experience.
The dining room was just lovely, the bar, the floors, the open kitchen, the fantastic painting in the front room - all very tasteful. The service, for the most part, was very genial, the bartender, and the bus girl especially.
The highlights of the meal, foodwise, were the mushroom salad I had (incredibly good), the fries on the chicken plate my mother had, the red peppar pancakes the client had and the wine we were recommended (a Pinot Gris - name unknown). And the salt on the table was amazing. Bizarre, I know, but salt is very important, and their's is fantastic.
So far so good, but now we come to my sea bass. It sucked. It tasted like metal. I couldn't eat it, and I can eat just about anything. For some reason, I didn't feel like complaining though (perhaps I was too busy poaching my mother's fries), but when the waiter inquired as to why I didn't eat my fish, I told him that it sucked. In any case, the worst part of the meal occurred right then, when this twitty little guy in a suit (Armani, no doubt) came over and proceeded to lecture me as to why I should "always tell the server when I am not enjoying something" because it "breaks [their] hearts" when someone doesn't enjoy the food. Now I know I look young, but I've been to a few restaurants in my day. For that reason, I won't go back. I can forgive metallic sea bass (good band name?), but not snooty service.
Food (ex. Sea Bass): B
Service (ex. twitty suited fella): B
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