The fact that the dining room was practically empty at 7pm on Friday night should have been our first clue. My wife ordered some kind of chicken sandwich on grilled sourdough bread. For some reason, they served it by itself and said they were still making the fries. I ordered a barbecue chicken calzone, which seemed simple enough to make. For some reason, the "chef" decided to substitute mozzarella cheese with ricotta. And not just a little, but a heaping gob of ricotta, with about 3 pieces of chicken and a slight brushing of barbecue sauce. I brought this to the attention of the waitress, and the manager apologized and had the "chef" prepare me another one. Of course, this meant that I basically had to eat by myself once it was done. But the kicker was that when I got the new one, the inside was barely warm enough to have melted the cheese.
After we had paid the bill and stood up to leave, the waitress came over and said the manager offered us a free dessert for our trouble. Too little, too late, my friends.