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| - They open at 5, I arrived before 5:30. It was empty except for a family of 3 already seated. After a few minutes, I was greeted by a woman who seemed distracted, and didn't offer to seat me. I had to ask her to seat me. She spent a few minutes looking across the empty dining room, then at a piece of, and was very flustered. I asked again to be seated, and she said that she didn't know if they had any tables. I pointed at the empty dining room and asked whether there was a problem. She said that they were all reserved, and she didn't have a place for me. She gave in and gave me a table just inside the door, in the middle of the foot traffic as the disorganized staff ran to and fro. Scottsdale restaurants commonly refuse to seat women dining alone, so they can hold out for large parties that spend more on food and alcohol. That seems to be the case here, because it was still empty when I left over an hour later.
Once I was seated, a young lady came from the kitchen, carrying a skillet in one hand and a bread basket in the other. This was very precarious, and I watched her trying to hold the heavy skillet with one hand as she came toward me. She placed the basket on my table, and poured from the skillet into a small bowl on the table. I realized that she was pouring smoking hot olive oil with burned chunks of garlic. The oil was was bubbling, even after she poured it into the bowl. I was horrified that she had carried burning oil through a restaurant, and could have burned herself, employees or customers, or me. The smell of burned garlic in burned olive oil was awful. I opened the breadbasket and found a single roll (recently thawed), and several scraps of pizza dough that had been brushed with olive oil and partially baked, but mostly raw and with no seasoning). I later saw the same young lady pass me with cauldrons of boiling oil for the party seated ahead of me and a party that arrived after me. I think this is their attempt at an interesting tableside presentation, but it is unappetizing and dangerous.
I waited perhaps 10 minutes and nobody came to even take my drink order. There was some confusion over a to go order, and the staff gathered at the back dining room to discuss how to sort out the mess. While I waited ... and waited, I overheard the first party try to order, only to be told that they were out of one dish after another. A half hour into dinner service, an empty dining room, and they're out of half the items on the menu?
I was in a pasta mood, and checked the menu, hoping it was homemade. No. It's "IMPORTED FROM ITALY!" I can get grocery store pasta "IMPORTED FROM ITALY!" if you advertise "high quality authentic Italian food," make your own pasta.
I ordered Spaghettini Bolognese. While I waited 20 minutes for my meal to arrive, I watched the staff bustle back and forth at full speed, but not do anything. I overheard them tell a party that arrived after me that "we're out of that." Over and over ... They then tried to order pasta, and were told they were OUT OF PASTA because the pasta machine was broken. They don't even make their own pasta, they accepted a pasta order from me, but told these customers they can't serve pasta because the non-existent machine is broken.
When my order came, I did not receive spaghettini. I received spaghetti. Maybe they don't know the difference, and added the "ni" at the end to impress people? The Bolognese, advertised as a "special meat sauce," was not meat sauce. It was a pale tomato cream sauce, very similar to Campbell's tomato soup, and it had five bite-size pieces of tough, grisly beef that had apparently been cut from a piece of meat and dropped into the flavorless sauce. I tried to eat a couple pieces of this meat, which was like beef jerky, and gave up. I ate the grocery store spaghetti covered in tomato soup, and waited 20 minutes for someone to notice that I had finished, clear my place, and offer me dessert. Yes, I was going to try dessert and give them a chance to do something well. Eventually, a server stopped by and asked whether I wanted to "box that up." Box what up? There were only a couple bits of beef gristle left. I declined the box, so he dropped the check on the table and disappeared for another 20 minutes. No dessert menu. Just uninterested staff hiding in the back to avoid customers.
I love family-owned restaurants. There aren't enough of them here, and I support the good ones. I'm patient with the little mistakes that can occur, and I really do want places like this to succeed. I don't enjoy writing a negative review, but if these folks don't wake up and start paying attention, they will not survive.
My advice: (1) Learn how to cook. (2) Practice basic kitchen safety. No more acrobatics with hot oil. (3) Go to other restaurants and observe bad service and good service. It's easy to tell the difference. La Fontanella on Indian School could teach you about gracious and courteous service. Do what they do.
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