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| - A niche dining experience that is essentially met for people who actually like one another. You're sharing boiling pots of cheese and chocolate while "cooking" for one another. This isn't a spot where you're on your phone. They literally have private seating options with curtains where you can get all sorts of weird with one another. If you're a miserable failed abortion that probably ate their sibling in the womb as the first step in their quest to become the most obnoxiously gluttonous racist in all the land, then your name is probably Todd "El Jefe" H - and El Jefe probably should have just asked for a table. We all get it man. Your gargantuan self couldn't fit in the booths. It's ok. We know that your real issue with the curtains constantly being closed is that marbled leg of yours poking out the side leaving an awkward, curtained, bump in the walkway. There are handicapped tables for a reason! I'm sure your server would have gladly accommodated you, had you not already come in with the mindset that they were white trash and mentally retarded. You big sweetie, you.
Sorry, I got off track. The bacon and gorgonzola fondue is my jam. My girlfriend went for the Wisconsin trio - also, amazing. Are the salads simple? Sure. You didn't come for salads though. With that being said, the peppercorn ranch on the house salad keeps you wanting to take another bite and the pine nuts in the caeser offer a nice balance and texture to the traditionally saltiness of a caeser dressing. It's those small little details that can make a simple salad do the trick.
Not speaking of small, how big do we think Todd actually is? Guy always comes back to either talking about prime rib at Maestros, or Jack In The Box. I feel like he's the person that keeps the staff on for an extra three hours while he gorges for the winter/spring/summer/fall and picks up his greasy water glass with those ham fists, shaking it in the air and getting bits of sauce all over the clean place settings within a ten foot radius. He's not even drinking that water! He just keeps dabbing it on his forehead to bring momentary relief for the meat sweats. He's probably one legit fart-gone-wrong away from blowing out the side of his gut and winding up in the ER with a qualified minority doctor. That will of course, give him an aneurysm. Poor Todd. Poor sweet, sweaty Todd.
Did I mention that the service here isn't bad? They tend to be pretty understanding with questions (was my first time, and I'm one of those inner city youth that sucked at third grade ala "El Jefe's" review) and were always pleasant from the host stand, to service, to management who knocked to check in on us. I appreciate it anytime staff are quick to give recommendations on drinks as well. I trust a server that can appreciate a fine cocktail. I had the "Captain n' Coke," sans the lime.
GO, GO, GO to The Melting Pot. It's fun for what it is. And what it is, is an interactive dining experience meant for conversation, savory bites, and the occasional behind the curtain hand job if you're feeling frisky. Kidding. Cum for the food and drinks.
AVOID, AVOID, AVOID any reviews from "El Jefe." Some people just like to complain to distract themselves from, well, themselves. SAD.
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