Everything was going so good...and then the wings gotta fu*k everything up. The ambience was smooth and stated; not overbearing. The server, Michelle (?), was the perfect complement too. We ordered a mix: the tuna chips, the koi burger (available only during happy hour), the siracha duck fat wings, and the zesty noodles.
The tuna chips were refreshing. The cheddar and kimchi-loaded burger arrived and its *hella* worth dropping by during happy hour just for that dish. The noodles were a'ight but just be forewarned the dish is overloaded with potent, heavy spices.
Then. The wings flew in. My first bite and I quickly realized I was biting into raw flesh. THE CHICKEN WAS F**KING RAW. I was like , the-hell-just-happened? I don't need salmonella; it's the holidays. My homegirl, Michelle, even grabbed some chop sticks to take "a sample" to show the chef.
The chef said he "didn't want to risk it" and insisted he make us another plate. I said no. I mean, "risk it"? Who is going to roll the dice on round two of raw chicken?! But they still made the dish...and we didn't touch it. But let's fast forward: I was charged for the plate. Okay, but, for real? You are charging me for--what? Looking at the dish that I won't touch? Um. Hi Clever Koi. That's not cool.
It was over. The honeymoon period was over, and all I wanted was to go back to the start--during that time when everything was going so well and I wasn't paranoid about foodborne illnesses.