It's French ... or, French-ish really. Lots of french-sounding dishes anyway ... raclettes, terrines, tartes, etc. Wait-staff in vests and jauntily rolled up shirt sleeves (some of them, anyway). A huge bar with any number of I've-never-heard-of-that bottles in it. It feels like a place that could really be a welcome addition to my lunchtime dining choices ... were it not for the service.
I came in alone and took a seat at the bar. I was immediately noticed by the bartender/server (you know they wear a few hats nowadays) but not really "addressed" initially. He was talking to a couple at the other end of the bar, who based on my observations were knocking back quite a bit of liquor for a noon-day meal and ordering rather willy-nilly from the menu.
I brushed it off and asked (yes, I had to ask - at lunch - alone - at a bar - in the business district) for a menu. The menu is intriguing ... as I mentioned before, it's very French-ish so don't expect a grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup for lunch. Expect rabbit and duck and cheese and grilled chickens and ... well, bistro food. Of which, I'm a HUGE fan.
I ordered a mesclun salad and the "Tarte Flambee". The salad was a mixture of bitter and sweet greens with RADISHES (love radishes). The "tarte" was a grilled flatbread with onion, cheese and "bacon lardons" which is basically just a fancy way of saying "bacon chunks". They were tasty - I enjoyed the salad more than the tarte. It seemed like it needed something kinda green on it. The flavor was OK, it just seemed ... naked. But it was tasty.
So after I finished and asked for the check (keep in mind, it's still lunchtime and folks need to get back to work!), the bartender/server brought it, I threw down my trusty debit card ... and waited. And waited. And watched him converse with said couple from earlier. And waited more. And watched him leave the bar area and go to the kitchen to get something for said couple. And waited. And waited until I started to really get irritated and I think I was able to project some of that irritation his way because he came down, apologized and rang me out.
Hey - I get that you're working for a good tip from the big spender 'round the corner there but don't count me out just because I came in, ordered a Diet Coke instead of a cocktail and had a nice quiet lunch by myself!
And if he reads this, still, I tipped you well. Your dismissal of me does not deserve my stiffing you on a tip. Karma, my man.
(Photos Below - the salad, the "tarte' and then the "tarte" as I could only eat half of it!)
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry
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