Holed up in a conference room in Cleveland for the past month (don't you wish you had my job?) I'm now a self-declared expert on all places within 30 miles that will deliver food to our downtown office.
That said, I now officially refuse to eat food that arrives from Cleats Club.
As this was delivery, I cannot comment on locale or decor, but the food is dismal. We don't have a wealth of choices when it comes to delivery food, so we've had Cleats three times.
The first time, I had a salad. Approximately 80% of said salad was the white spiny-part of iceberg lettuce that I generally chuck in the trash. Bleh. Even the diced tomatoes looked embarrassed to be resting upon a bed of such unappetizing lettuce.
Second time around... I had another salad (I'm trying to be healthy, yo!) and I suppose Cleats helped that goal as I threw it away, again.
Third strike: Buffalo chicken strips. OK, I ditched the diet and went with something I though most "bar & grille" places could do with ease. False. Five strips of breaded chicken with buffalo sauce splashed randomly across the top. The "grilled vegetables" on the side were primarily broccoli stems. Why are you constantly trying to feed me refuse, Cleats??
After the aforementioned buffalo chicken affront, I went back into our conference room and wrote on the white-erase board (in big letters) "NO MORE FOOD FROM CLEATS OR I WILL GO ON A HUNGER STRIKE!"
Hunger. Strike.
Just like Gandhi.