"Excuse me waiter. What's this fly doing in my soup?"
"It appears to be doing the backstroke sir."
Yep. This pretty much sums up our service at MB this past Sunday. Forgotten entrees. No ice bucket for the champagne. Drinks took forever, if indeed, they were remembered. Ketchup? Our beniets? Ugh!
Formerly the FoodBar (remember that place, with the awful layout and crazy ordering procedure?), MB is a lovely French restaurant in the heart of Oldtown. We sat inside, luckily, as some Gen X Jewel type performer was on the patio "singing" and strumming her guitar. I heard just a few bars and wanted to stab my eye out with a hot fork. Fortunately the hustle and bustle inside perfectly drowned it out!
The food was quite good. Not incredible. Beniets were undercooked a bit, but hey, we scarfed them down anyway. My eggs Benedict was fantastic; served with biscuits instead of English muffins. But no potatoes. No salad. No nothing on the side. Not even a garnish. Others seemed pleased with a burger, granola and an all American breakfast.
Christine is right however, in that we were there to celebrate a birthday. Too bad much of our energy was used to flag down ANYONE who could help us. I swear I almost asked the lady sitting next to us to refill Rickie's coffee. God that would have been fun!
So I can't say oui oui to MB quite yet. And for now I shall just say ta ta!