| rev:text
| - Meh. I mean, really *great* food, but, meh.
It's a pretty nice-looking room. Warm light, nice bar, tables big enough and far enough apart to permit comfort. But if you walk into a nicely-lit, high-toned place and the wait staff are all dressed in Canadiens hockey sweaters, start worrying. I did, and I was rewarded.
Typical Montreal restaurant service, Part 1: Greeter greeted us, asked us to wait just a second, disappeared. Left us standing a good five minutes. Finally got seated by a passing waitress in a tight Canadiens T-shirt bursting with initiative. Too bad she wasn't to be *our* waitress.
Typical Montreal restaurant service, Part 2: Our waiter. Big blasé guy in his thirties. Displayed a real talent for leaving our water glasses dry for the first twenty minutes. Bored and condescending when we both asked for explanations of minor menu items. Forgot to put my Martini order in at the bar.
Typical Montreal restaurant service, Part 3: This is an awful town to be a Martini-drinker in. Just awful. If you're asking me to pay *$14* for a glass of gin and vegetables, I expect you to put a bit of effort into the presentation. Or, at least bring me a birdbath. But this was a Martini I'd expect to get in a tavern; warmish, poured sloppily, and poured short. Fucktards.
But the evening wasn't a complete loss; I went with a burger and fries to chase my drink down. The loss-leader triple-A hamburger on whole wheat with tomato, pickle, bacon, and hot peppers was delicious. And, surpisingly, it was big enough to justify the moderately-high price. Fries were tasty, and were served *hot*.
My only gripe about the food is a very minor one: There was only deli mustard on the table. No Dijon. Odd, for a place that has $39 hambugers on the menu. My burger tasted fine with French's, but I suspect it would have induced mouthgasm with a bit of Maille in it. Now that I think of it, though, there was no vinegar for the fries on the table, either. Not that they needed anything, but one expects the house to think of such things.
The venue got in the way, at times. Music was too loud for the size of the tables- I was too far away from my dining companion to hear what she was saying without putting my chest across my plate. Restrooms are inconveniently-sited, through the lobby doors and down the stairs. Some of the plumbing clearly wasn't working. Smutty door handles. Considering it's a place where the signature food is eaten with one's hands... My friend was bemoaning having forgotten her hand-sanitizer.
My two stars are entirely for the food. I'd eat their delicious burger again, gladly. Not sure if I'll ever be sufficiently motivated to put up with the rest of their operation for the privilege, though. Maybe if I sit at the bar, alone, come in with my hands pre-washed, and order beer...
Maybe they do takeout. Maybe they should.
|
![[RDF Data]](/fct/images/sw-rdf-blue.png)
![[cxml]](/fct/images/cxml_doc.png)
![[csv]](/fct/images/csv_doc.png)
![[text]](/fct/images/ntriples_doc.png)
![[turtle]](/fct/images/n3turtle_doc.png)
![[ld+json]](/fct/images/jsonld_doc.png)
![[rdf+json]](/fct/images/json_doc.png)
![[rdf+xml]](/fct/images/xml_doc.png)
![[atom+xml]](/fct/images/atom_doc.png)
![[html]](/fct/images/html_doc.png)