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| - Eating at Portland Variety for the first time was singularly one of the most confusing dining experiences I have ever had, as dinner last night ranged from actually being "excellent", before dipping into very disappointing territory.
The meal started great. We were seated comfortably and quickly in the rather charming dining room; our server came by to take our orders within a few minutes. Surrounded by beautiful people and the smell of delicious wafting over from the kitchen, what could go wrong?
Our drinks took a little longer to arrive than we initially expected, but that was fine, given the care the bartender was obviously applying to each cocktail. The names of each cocktail were a bit fancy, ultimately, for what they were - "Kentucky Trail" was just a very good Old Fashioned. Being downright yummy however, some pretension was forgiveable.
After ordering five items off their menu (and this number gets very important later in this epic), we were presented with complimentary little servings of squid salads. This gesture was quite impressive, both in terms of quality and the level of customer service I hadn't truly expected.
In quick succession, our orders began to arrive. Decadent Candied Pork Rinds, crisp Fish Crudo, melt-in-your-mouth Carpaccio...an unexpected and unordered second serving of Fish Crudo arrived - apparently, because there was surplus in the kitchen.
So far, the restaurant had the markings of a favourite neighbourhood dinner joint, and we regretted not visiting sooner. Thankfully, we didn't experience said regret for too long.
Like a B-Grade horror movie, suddenly, everything changed. After twenty minutes, our two last orders still hadn't arrived. It kept on not arriving. When we reminded our server, he assured us our remaining food were on their way, only to return after five minutes to inform us that the Cheese Puffs were no longer available, and would we care to change our order now? Obligingly and in good humour, we changed our order.
Except the food kept on not being brought. The server stopped by again to tell us they had never had Sunday night service before, hence the complete lack of organization. That was the last time we spoke to him.
We held on to our patience as long as we could, watching as the staff hurried around all a-fluster; we felt a little sorry for them even. One of the servers dashing to and fro had obviously been recalled from her night off, given that she was decked out in a summer dress (as opposed to the standard black/white uniform).
We watched as the chef, supposedly slammed by the influx of patrons, started chatting up new customers by the doorway. Our server had completely abandoned us by this point in favour of working the front bar. Though I suppose he didn't quite have a choice.
With some difficulty, we finally got the attention of a staff member, who happened to be the Restaurant Manager just passing on by. She snapped "Yes the Croquetas and Chickpeas are on their way."
That's when we asked for the bill.
Without a single word of apology, the receipt arrived - quickly and hilariously with our erstwhile Cheese Puffs still included in the bill.
That five dollar surplus charge, we did not bother contesting. At that point, we just wanted to go some place where we did not feel rendered completely invisible. (That place was Buca, across the street.)
Would we go back? Well the food which had arrived were all very good. I will be thinking about that Fish Crudo.
The question is - should we go back? If you're going to price yourself like a good boutique restaurant, shouldn't you behave like a good boutique restaurant? Is that too much to ask?
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