| rev:text
| - First impressions last, unfortunately for Windsor.
The parking. Yuck. Six cars deep waiting for valet, no thanks. Especially in a lot the size of a fat Circle K. It was small enough that I didn't even bother trying, I just parked down the street (which I'm sure locals are just in love with already).
Then, while there are indeed like six doors to the place, none seem to be the main entrance. I finally just went in the one that was open, you know, right by the bathrooms. All of the ones along the 'front' are knuckle deep in people's tables so those are awkward.
Now on to trying to get a seat. My friend and I walked up to the bar. The overhead speaker was going to make conversation a pain in the head so we walked over to what looked like a waiter station. And then we stood there. Then we stood some more. I considered at one point calling them and asking if there was somebody who could come over and seat us. At least for my ego, after being seated, I noticed several other people walk up to doors, look in side, and then walk away, to finally wander inside and stand around looking for what to do next.
We were finally asked by a young lady, sitting with friends and food at the first booth, if we needed help. I thought it odd that a customer was asking us if we needed help and I thought maybe I should think of something funny to say because she's kinda cute and I wonder if she's trying to....oh wait, I think she works here?
It turned out it was the hostess who had been letting us stand there, three feet away, gawking like idiots while she hung out with friends, chatting and eating.
After asking if we should just seat ourselves or if there was somebody we were supposed to ask about it or if we were in the wrong place she grabbed us menus and nabbed us a table.
At this point, and I'm only on a passing fancy with snobbery, I was ready to write this place off. The initial experience was a 'if you can't figure us out, then you probably shouldn't be here' kind of thing. Not that it's rocket science but, seriously? If I have to *try* to get a table then next time I'm bringing my top hat and parrot.
Luckily for this place, once seated things got WAY better. Our waitress was happy, friendly, filled with information and suggestions, and made sure that I knew what was going on for happy hour. Win, win, win, thanks, and win. Things were looking up.
The happy hour specials are nice get off early, they don't last long.
The food was good. Not great, not knock your socks off, but a step up from the norm. The Russian Roulette Peppers (only one pepper in a dozen is predisposed for heat!) were a fun app, roasted and oiled.
I'm going to have to give the place another try. I truly did enjoy myself once I was entrenched. Both the experience of actually getting off my feet and the unfortunate too cool for my fixie Postino vibe should have been kept on lock down across the street but here's to hoping it grows on me more than the 'duce has.
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