We checked into our hotel and took a bit of rest before calling the elder brother of BBBH. As usual, his son had to roust him from bed so he could take the call, but see how you do when you are 93. We invited him to have supper with us and we agreed on a pick-up time of 7:30. Glenn was ready when we arrived at his house. We agreed on a location and away we went for the evening adventure! His son drove along in his car, saying then we would not have to make the return trip to their house.
Where did we go? We chose a very popular chain restaurant most often found hard by a major highway, you know, the one with rocking chairs on the front porch. And two hundred thousand kitchy items for sale inside. But again, I digress.
Following the wait in the store-- and we all know the design here: sign in, get suckered into buying stuff you don't need while you wait. We were finally seated, orders placed. After a w h i l e our server returned with the food. BBBH got what she ordered. Glenn's order looked to be essentially what he called for, but the scrambled eggs looked to be a scrambled egg. "I said 'eggs,'" he said. "Well, they gave you one egg." John stated the obvious.
John got what he ordered. I got my turnip greens in a small bowl and my coleslaw in a small bowl and a biscuit on a full-sized dinner plate. We started to eat, I thinking that my meal would arrive presently. Finally after exhibiting entirely too much patience, I signaled the wait person and asked, "Where's my fish?" "Hunh? she replied. "I ordered fried catfish." She turned and walked away. I finished my green stuff, which was good, by the way, and still no fish. I filed this complaint with a manager, young man very apologetic. He soon had my fish delivered. Good thing everyone else had eaten by then, for the aroma nearly sent all my dinner companions into the next room, and I was less than pleased. I looked at the four sorry pieces of "fish" on the plate, managed to eat most of one of them and when the waitress brought the check she asked if I wanted a take-out box. "Yes, please."
I carried the remaining three pieces out in the box, paid the bill. The cashier, as they are all instructed to do, asked, "Was everything okay!" I said not a mumbling word as I handed her the cash.
I dumped the fish in a waste receptacle.
Friday had not been a good day for us in the comestibles department.
The view from our hotel room.
8 comments:
Oh darn. All that way for lousy food and service. How frustrating! I hope you enjoyed the visit with John though.
Lin, bad food experiences, but a great weekend overall!--vanilla
Few things worse than bad fish. I have found a place about 15 minutes away where they have good fish (haddock) and chips. Their apple smoked salmon is especially good.
Sorry about your terrible experience.
Oh no, you didn't...not raise a stink! Much like your fish did? While I may not complain about gas station coffee there is no way I would have let this situation stand. It's your tummy and your money...I don't recognize this chain restaurant from the description. What a bummer for your trip, which I hope was enjoyable in all other aspects.
Bummer- I personally don't care for much of the food at that chain anyway.
You're nicer than I am!
Chuck, my taste buds often crave fish, but they are quite resentful when given a lousy substitute for good fish, or poorly prepared fish, for that matter.
Sharkey, my experiences there, no matter the outlet, has taught me that the turnip greens are the best thing they serve. Nothing much else is memorable in a good way.
Ilene, I'm sure that anyone who knows us would tell you that. *grin*
How interesting! That is my one menu item of choice there also.
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