The question answered with “nothing” was “what’s good here?” I posted this review four days ago after some old hag refused to serve me a cappuccino in a ceramic mug while I sat outside. “But you have outdoor seating,” I said, bewildered. “That’s for people with to-go orders,” she replied. What!? You call yourself a restaurant? i “Never mind, that ruins it for me.” I walk out. Funny thing is, a much younger waitress didn’t mind breaking this restaurant’s brain damaged rules a couple weeks ago. The less funny thing is, this is was the closest place I could get an espresso drink.
Looks like Mircea had a similar experience in Buenos Aires at some icecream place:
We stopped for icecream. SPP girly had to argue with the idiots at the counter to use ******* glass bowls. For which trouble I got miserable coffee in a cup and some marginal icecream in a cappuccino glass. You know the sort, thick cheap glass with a handle on the side, it’s by now universal in every obrero cafe the world over.
And this isn’t the first time he’s written about the gross stupidity of Argentinians. I’ve come to understand that this sort of retardation is the result of compulsory sentimentality; otherwise known as cargo-cultism. “Why do we do things this way?” “Because that’s how it’s always been done!” That’s the only justification I can come up with as to why a place like Christy’s still operates. If a restaurant stays open for long enough and without changing anything, ii it can continue to exist on sheer momentum of the expectations of consumers. The food sucks. The service sucks. The ambiance sucks. Despite all this, the locals iii keep returning; everyone I ask says they love it.
Here’s another quote from the same Trilema article:
Twenty minutes later we were entering a Cena! Show! kinda place. A bunch of old people hanging around. The waiter comes over, I order Reserva San Juan. Dos. The… other waiter comes over with menus. I tell him we already ordered. He then comes over with properly warmed glasses, in which he pours A LOT of something. Girly points out it’s not what I ordered. It wasn’t. We taste the paint thinner just for the hell of it. Atrocious. I stand up, get dressed, blondy that no doubt was hot back when this country was cool, 40 years ago or so, asks us why’re we leaving ? I say “because they’ve got no cognac”, throw a hundred on the table as the avatar of disdain and we’re off!
I like the word ‘atrocious’ — it’s a great description of this kind of savagery that goes on in bad restaurants. The definition I found calls it “horrifyingly wicked,” which is certainly an overstatement in the sense that it’s not a sin to mismanage a business. And yet it sure feels like sin. How dare these jerks– taking up space pretending like they’re providing a useful service, only to waste my time. What’s worse, they keep out others who might have done better. Westbrook is too small a town to have a second diner. iv I guess I need to move.
- If I wanted to carry my food somewhere and clean up after myself I’d do it at home like any other sane person. I go out to be served. ^
- The location, the menu, the stupid stuff on the walls, etc.. Ever notice those commercial lots that no matter what’s there, they can’t last more than a couple years? ^
- That is, the ones who stay all year round, and pointedly not the “summer people.” ^
- Actually it has three, but the others are a Denny’s and some small greasy hole in the wall — neither of which has an espresso machine. ^