One of my friends and I celebrate our birthdays by taking each other out to a fancy dinner.  The birthday girl gets to pick the restaurant.  We have had some really great dining experiences this way.  Several years ago, for my friend’s milestone birthday she chose to go to the most critically acclaimed new restaurant in the country (yes, THAT one, I don’t need to name it here).  It was up to me to take care of the details and after looking over all the press about the place I was really looking forward to our dinner.  Our reservation was booked pretty quickly despite all of the rumors of difficulty.  That was one of the very few positive notes in our experience.

Rude Waiter (Photo from www.france-vacations-made-easy.com)

Allow me not to focus on the food.  I will just say that among twenty some dishes there were some that were spectacular, some were good, some not great and some in my opinion borderline inedible.  However, I am a realist and didn’t expect all of the courses to blow my mind.  It just isn’t possible.  Something will always be better than something else.  My overall rating of the food we had that night would be “Good”.  And yet the evening may go down in history as one of the worst dining experiences of my life.  Why, you ask?  Let me paint you a picture.

Our reservation was a rather early one – 6:00 p.m. on a Sunday.  It was the only one available but we don’t mind dining early.  That was until we were seated all alone in a huge, completely silent dining room.  Ours was the ONLY table occupied until 7:30 p.m. or so.  It was so quiet, you could hear a pin drop.  Involuntarily, we ourselves nervously spoke in very hushed tones.  No menu to look over, no wine list to flip through, no one to make small talk with.  We sat there, left to our own devices, for a better part of 30 minutes.  While that was a rather uncomfortable scenario, when our waiter finally approached our table things got progressively worse.

The gentleman that waited on us took one look at us and made up his mind, or so it seemed, that we were two young women not knowledgeable about wine or food.  He was wrong on both counts, of course.  We didn’t notice his condescension at first, grateful to have someone to describe the wine and the menu.  Despite his best efforts, he couldn’t convince us to purchase the wine pairings, rather pricey ones I might add.  We wanted to order a few bottles off the wine list he FINALLY offered us with some very able assistance from the sommelier (who was a breath of fresh air that night).  Our dinner deteriorated further when he failed to order several of our courses and failed to mention that to us, hoping that we wouldn’t notice.  We noticed.  But no restitution for the missed courses was offered to us.  There were other faux pas including a dish dropped on the floor in front of us but the culmination of them all came when our waiter asked why we didn’t finish one of the courses.  After we explained why we didn’t care for it, he claimed that most of the dishes were “not for the average palate”.  Wait, did he just insult me for having an opinion?  Why, yes.  He did.

Aggravated and helplessly trying to hide it, so as not to ruin my friend’s birthday completely, I finally got the check.  Full amount charged despite courses missing.  A three digit tip (I felt compelled to tip in full by the service of sommelier and our food runner) brought our grand total to a four digit number.  As I signed my name to it, I could not help but think of ways how my money would have been better spent.  I could use it to pay for ten dinners at Schwa.  A trip to New York.  A new fall wardrobe.  My mind was racing.  I remember it so vividly, I still cannot bring myself to go back to this restaurant despite all its accolades.  I maybe the ONLY person around not clamoring to get a table there.

In theory, the fame and the hefty price tag should ensure a seamless dining experience that you are sure to remember fondly for years to come.  In reality, even dinner at the nation’s most praised restaurant can be ruined by one person’s terrible attitude.  Fame and price are no guarantee.

My name is Tatiana or call me Gourmet Rambler.  I love food too much to be skinny.  I am too loud, too sarcastic, tell too many inappropriate jokes and watch too much reality TV.  I am not dainty or graceful unless I am cooking AND eating!  Hungry?  Want more?  Follow me on twitter at Gourmet Rambler.