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| - What is it with this place? It's like a weird mutant baby of Ruby Tuesday and the Cheesecake Factory born in 1994 - I swear they even have the same mix of fun n' funky jams you've heard in your favorite RT's playing in the background. They most definitely have the same feel - messy food paintings full of edgy, contrasty colors, that damn jewel tone color scheme that immediately calls to mind fancy Mall, opulent textures bandied about, willy-nilly. I've given Mama's three chances to transcend the bad decor choices with delicious foods, and she's failed me, every time.
Dinners - universally too salty, and if salts-everything-before-tasting-it me is saying that, well. This preserved, pickled thing is inescapable - if it isn't a preserved roasted pepper overwhelming your salad, it's a pickled artichoke or so many Kalamatas (yay Greece) smothering your pizza that any chance of digging on the housemade mozz is gone. Even Bruschetta tastes like it's been doused with anti-aging liquids and sat at the bottom of a very deep fridge for who knows how long.
In true Olive Garden style, salads are overdressed before making it to your table, so it's all a wilty, mixed up mess. That ain't how they do it in Italia, kids! That's how they do it in Bottomless Breadstickville.
Service is probably where they've spent the most energy and it shows - people are quick, smiley, knowledgeable. But try three was brunch this weekend, and the Benedict was so Stouffer's (accompanied by the blandest breakfast taters I've ever not eaten, and seriously, what cheese was that under my two asparagus spears, Muenster? Srsly?!) that, like I said, I give up. Che cosa una delusione.
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