On a recent rip to DC we stayed at my sweet sister-in-law (hereinafter referred to as "The Queen")'s place in Pentagon City. We decided one evening that we should go out to dinner at a nearby steak house which is one of renown and good repute. I do not name it because of our experience.
My husband and I had scoped it out earlier in the day and checked the menu. Hmm. When the menu posted has no prices listed you do know it will be, shall we say, dear. It should also then follow, however, that food and service will be commensurate, yes? The Queen told us that she had a gift card for $50 for this restaurant and we were going to apply that to our bill. Come on -- you KNOW if they prices are not listed that the price for a meal for 3 is going to be well above $50!
We arrived at the restaurant that evening and had a short wait - nothing to complain about, truly.
We were seated and then told our wait person, "Veronica", would be with us shortly. A staff person very promptly set us up with glasses of water while we waited for Veronica. Then we continued to wait. Then we waited some more. The Queen commented,"it's been a while since we were seated, hasn't it?" We began timing. About 10 minutes later, Veronica shows up and explains to us that our menus were not forgotten (as we had none), but that they like to do a presentation of the menu items so we understand exactly what meats or seafood we might be ordering (aha! some of you now know where we were!) and that as soon as she could get the "menu cart" she would 'demonstrate' to us our menu selections. She advises us that she & Igor will be 'taking care of us' this evening. Then she offered to take our drink selections. Now I must say that I am usually a water drinker. The Queen and my hubby generally like to have a drink or glass of wine and since we were walking there was no need to worry about a designated driver - although I generally become the DD by default. The Queen and the hubby as well as myself inform V -- politely -- that we will simply stick with water this evening. She literally slams the "drink menu" booklet shut. I kid you not, she slams it shut with this frozen faced look of consternation and condescension. We realize at once she must think she is being "poker-faced." We realize at once - she should NEVER play poker.
We return to waiting. We wait some more. Still waiting. Does it seem as if I am repeating myself? I assure I am not. Several minutes later, after watching her sally forth a number of times around the dining room - hey, at least she was actually DOING something as opposed to standing around chatting with a fellow "server" - I saw her begin to look for the menu cart. A few minutes after that she arrives with the cart and three menus -- which she holds onto with a death grip -- to begin her presentation. She begins to proceed down her script, pointing out this cut of meat, that cut of meat, when The Queen gently interrupts her with a request to actually have a menu so she can follow along with the presentation. If looks could kill at this horribly forward DEMAND and interruption of this important and impressive event we would be planning a funeral for The Queen. Reluctantly she doles out a menu to this obviously difficult and probably demented individual and then continues in her demonstration. At the end of the grand production, hubby and I are handed our menus and V tells us she will be back for our orders shortly and leaves with the cart.
The Queen, hubby and I comment on the apparent attitude, laugh at the demanding attitude of The Queen and peruse the menu. We debate and discuss all of the options and finally make our decisions and prepare to wait for V. Did you catch that we seem to get to do a lot of waiting here? The hubby decides that he and I will share a baked potato - he had seen them and they were quite large, and they cost $11. Yes, half of an $11 baked potato should be fine. We finally arrive at the opportunity to order, place our orders and I even receive an explanation that the Filet Mignon Oskar that I have ordered is actually a filet that is cut in half and then served with 1 piece of asparagus and some lump crab meat and the bearnaise sauce. Cause - you know, I probably am unable to comprehend that a category entitled "smaller cuts of meat" might actually NOT be a 24 oz steak.
Soon enough the soup hubby ordered arrives and it is quite delicious.
The food comes VERY promptly, hot off the grill and we finally get to meet Igor. Igor is the gentleman who has come around with offerings of butter, sour cream, and bacon for our baked potatoes as well as fresh ground pepper. He is quite charming, easy- going and courteous and promptly has our potatoes looking delicious and ready to eat.
Before The Queen has taken a single bite and while hubby and I each have our mouth full of food, the floor manager comes around to ask how everything is. How do you spell "mpphmmm?"
The food is actually quite good, beautifully cooked, although I really feel no need and no desire to eat the little "toasts" that support my 2 pieces of filet and remove them so I can enjoy the actual meat and sauce. And it was delicious. Why fill up on bread when I could save that little bit of space in my stomach for a yummy dessert??
We finish our meal - mine being smaller I did actually finish it, but the hubby and The Queen have only been able to eat a portion of theirs and it wants to go home with us. V prepares to remove the plates in order to package them up when The Queen informs her she prefers to package hers herself.
Uh-oh. THE LOOK.
Now I will tell you that I generally prefer to package mine myself as well. We both have this "thing" about people touching our food. I have had servers in whom I have felt absolute confidence that they would take utmost care and decorum in the packaging of my food and felt no hesitation in allowing them to do so. With V?? Not so much.
V proceeds to advise this poor lunatic who she is ONLY trying to help that they have special bags and they are air-tight and it is a special way of packaging that they do for "leftovers." What - The Queen doesn't have the intelligence or ability to package her own food??? A - she is a MOM, B - she actually is intelligent C - she is an Assistant Attorney General for the State of Texas working on loan to DC. Pick one -- oh wait - all three apply. I think she can figure out how to pack her food up for goodness sake!
The Queen insists and so V goes off to the kitchen and manages to make a big production out of bringing back several plastic bags, pieces of aluminum foil and foil lined bags. She has to bring an assistant to carry so much - or it could be that she felt a need for a witness to the disaster that was surely going to occur when these foolish people who were likely from West of Nowhere (the igmos) attempted to package their own food. All the while with that plastic mask of disapproval that I believe she honestly thought concealed her contempt.
She asks if we are interested in dessert and I say that I am actually interested in seeing what offerings there are.
She brings a dessert menu. Uh-oh, it's time to wait again. And wait. And wait. 15 minutes later she arrives to take our dessert order. 15 minutes was too long, honey. I am now full and have no desire to order something that even 5 minutes earlier I would have done.
Once again we have let her down. We have failed her expectations and her dreams. She advises she will bring our bill.
It does come rather quickly by her standards, normal time by ours. My husband looks it over, gets out his card & The Queen reminds him we have that gift card to apply as well. He puts that also in the bill and almost immediately it is taken up to the front -- by another server....
It then comes back equally quickly, re- done with the $50 card deducted from the total. V then returns to "read" it to us mentioning "most not happy" - that the gift card had been deducted and she would take that whenever we were ready and leaves. Hubby looks at the folder (- HEY she forgot to slam this folder!!) to realize he had NOT put his card in there but his driver's license... he puts his payment card of choice in and we discuss how this is NOT going to be 20% tip - no way! - while we wait for V to take it up. She does come get it and take it for payment and we decide that yes, we will tip her (oh it was bad enough that NO tip was up for consideration) and that it will only be $20. I say only because the bill was high enough that $20 is only about 10%.
The next day we hit the road home and stopped at a Denny's for breakfast. Service there - triple A rating. That waitress was friendly, courteous, attentive, all around nice and pleasant.
Are we likely to return to "M" steak house again? Nope.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
The (mis)Adventures of a Very Bold Cat - Livia
Let me start by explaining the boldness of this particular cat. The unfortunate reality in a college town is that many students decide they need a kitten (or a puppy) then at graduation or simply at the end of the semester when they go home or sometimes because the animal in question is no longer a "baby" they abandon it. It is NOT all students, regardless - it happens.
One day about 6 or 7 years ago now this little cat showed up in my driveway with this demanding, strident and really unattractive meow. She was a pretty little cat but this grating and awful noise she made - let's just say it was offputting!
Certain that there was some sort of acceptance for cats in the household -- as witnessed by the presence of our Emporer of a cat - Tiberius J Cat -- she insisted on hanging around and continued to make this screeching horrible sound.
For 2 or 3 days she persisted in hanging around and meowing. On Day 3 as I was attempting to remove something from the trunk of my car she jumped into the trunk made eye contact and meowled stridently at me. Well, that is a bold little cat and I told her she was.
Okay - I am a little bit of a soft touch but it dawned on me - this cat is really hungry and I could not let her starve. So - you guessed it - I fed her and therefore she claimed ownership of us and her rightful place. My son named her Livia. Of course he insists on giving all of our cats their middle initial as well so her name is Livia J Cat
When we moved from that house 5 years ago, naturally we brought her with us. Mind you she has NEVER strayed off of the property at that house nor at our present location.
Once fed, she stopped making the ugly sound completely. You have to admire a creature who so insistently seeks what she needs, yeah?
Example 2 of her boldness: When we moved out here (we live in what my sons would definitely call the sticks) I would let her in the house - at first. She insisted on getting up on the dining room table and I was not having that. I know to discipline a cat you don't spank them, you grab them by the scruff of the neck and lower their shoulders to the ground with a hiss as their mothers did. I did this to her on her last day in the house ever. She turned and bit and scratched and hissed at me as if SHE were in charge and I had better kowtow to her. Thus, her last day in the house ever...
Now Livia has a partial hearing loss. She is not completely deaf but there is a definite loss there. My husband tested this "theory" of mine one day when he was in the garage and needed to use his bandsaw. The royal empress Livia (in her mind, anyway) was nearby and he didn't want for a sudden cat attack of panic to occur so before he began working he turned on the saw and watched her. Not a muscle twitch, not a whisker twitch, no response. So happily he sawed away. In order to call her I sometimes have to clap to get her attention so the vibrations will get to her and she will pay heed. If she does not want to come in at night or whenever, she will NOT. If you attempt to pick her up - well let us say I have some suede work gloves I don in order to pick her up when we insist on putting her in the garage for her safety.
The other night she did not want to come in. She was happily ensconced on a porcelain stand we have by our front door which she, apparently, considers her pedestal. It seemed a nice enough evening, she was entirely unafraid of being there and so I let her stay there.
In the night, torrential downpour, thunder, lightning. I woke up in the wee hours and thought - well somebody is going to be happy to come in when I get up!
I am an early riser and when I got up I made some coffee and started my "zoo duties" of feeding and caring for the cats. I went to the front door and she was not there. She frequently will go to the back porch during weather and it was still rumbling and flashing, although it was not pouring down rain at that time. I called her, clapped for her, called again and looked for her a number of times. No response.
All morning I looked for her and called her. About 1 in the afternoon my husband calls me. "Honey, I'm at the triplex and you won't believe this - Livia is here, she was up in the under body of the truck bed."
She had crawled up in there to get out of the weather and had stayed there - through my searches for her before he left for work, through the trip to the Interstate, through the 70 MPH trip on the Interstate, and had even stayed up thre when my husband got to work and parked the truck. He left work on his lunch time to go to the triplex he owns in order to take our recycling there. When he moved the canister full of recycling in the truck bed THAT finally was more than she could bear and she left the truck and hid somewhere.
I drove down town and looked for her for an hour. I had with me a cat recovery kit consisting of 1) a cat carrier, 2) a towel to wrap her in if necessary, 3) a spoon and a can of cat food.
I met with no success and even went to the funeral home where my husband works in order to look there in CASE she had crawled back up in the truck. Nothing.
I went back this morning agains fully equipped with my cat recover kit - and also a little dish to put the cat food in so IF I found her she could eat without cutting her little face OR if I had to resort to opening the can to attract her I could at least not have cat food spilled all over the place on the ride home.
I got to the Triplex and called and called with no response. Putting my "cat thinkin cap on" I determined what I would do if I were a frightened little cat who did not like to travel far from my security base and I was mysteriously transported to a very strange place. Aha!! Over there in the cover of the overgrown greenery on a back porch that is never used! Perfect - no one can see me, I'm off the ground and I can think about my situation as I recover from my fear and DAMN!! I am hungry!!
So I walked over closer to that area, called, tapped the can with the spoon - a sure fire way to get a cat's attention regardless of hearing issues - and I hear a little meow. I persist and sure enough, a little cat face appears, she recognized me and had quite a series of complaints about hunger first and foremost and about how very much she does NOT like to travel and where exactly am I any way mom?
I open the can and profer it to her in the little dish and she happily begins to eat although you can tell she is still a little freaked out by her travels. I go to get the cat carrier and slip the food dish well back in to it. I gently grab her up and attempt to place her in the carrier as well.
Did I mention she hates to get in the cat carrier? She will NOT be put in. I pick her up and pet her and try to calm her. She does indeed calm a bit but still refuses admission to the carrier. Another petting and soothing and I determine if I can just get her part way in I can push her with the closing door and - oh yeah baby! Success. She is in the carrier although not really happy about it. Then when I pick it up the swaying of it starts her fright anew. So I pick it up like a box and put it in the car, cover it with a blanket and get in the front seat and start up the motor. Total quiet and apparent calm reigns in the back seat. For a while. Now for the 15 mile trip back home through town.
We arrive home with relatively little complaints from the back seat and upon her release you can see she still is a little shaken by her adventure but ever so happy to be home at last. Maybe no more road trips for her..
One day about 6 or 7 years ago now this little cat showed up in my driveway with this demanding, strident and really unattractive meow. She was a pretty little cat but this grating and awful noise she made - let's just say it was offputting!
Certain that there was some sort of acceptance for cats in the household -- as witnessed by the presence of our Emporer of a cat - Tiberius J Cat -- she insisted on hanging around and continued to make this screeching horrible sound.
For 2 or 3 days she persisted in hanging around and meowing. On Day 3 as I was attempting to remove something from the trunk of my car she jumped into the trunk made eye contact and meowled stridently at me. Well, that is a bold little cat and I told her she was.
Okay - I am a little bit of a soft touch but it dawned on me - this cat is really hungry and I could not let her starve. So - you guessed it - I fed her and therefore she claimed ownership of us and her rightful place. My son named her Livia. Of course he insists on giving all of our cats their middle initial as well so her name is Livia J Cat
When we moved from that house 5 years ago, naturally we brought her with us. Mind you she has NEVER strayed off of the property at that house nor at our present location.
Once fed, she stopped making the ugly sound completely. You have to admire a creature who so insistently seeks what she needs, yeah?
Example 2 of her boldness: When we moved out here (we live in what my sons would definitely call the sticks) I would let her in the house - at first. She insisted on getting up on the dining room table and I was not having that. I know to discipline a cat you don't spank them, you grab them by the scruff of the neck and lower their shoulders to the ground with a hiss as their mothers did. I did this to her on her last day in the house ever. She turned and bit and scratched and hissed at me as if SHE were in charge and I had better kowtow to her. Thus, her last day in the house ever...
Now Livia has a partial hearing loss. She is not completely deaf but there is a definite loss there. My husband tested this "theory" of mine one day when he was in the garage and needed to use his bandsaw. The royal empress Livia (in her mind, anyway) was nearby and he didn't want for a sudden cat attack of panic to occur so before he began working he turned on the saw and watched her. Not a muscle twitch, not a whisker twitch, no response. So happily he sawed away. In order to call her I sometimes have to clap to get her attention so the vibrations will get to her and she will pay heed. If she does not want to come in at night or whenever, she will NOT. If you attempt to pick her up - well let us say I have some suede work gloves I don in order to pick her up when we insist on putting her in the garage for her safety.
The other night she did not want to come in. She was happily ensconced on a porcelain stand we have by our front door which she, apparently, considers her pedestal. It seemed a nice enough evening, she was entirely unafraid of being there and so I let her stay there.
In the night, torrential downpour, thunder, lightning. I woke up in the wee hours and thought - well somebody is going to be happy to come in when I get up!
I am an early riser and when I got up I made some coffee and started my "zoo duties" of feeding and caring for the cats. I went to the front door and she was not there. She frequently will go to the back porch during weather and it was still rumbling and flashing, although it was not pouring down rain at that time. I called her, clapped for her, called again and looked for her a number of times. No response.
All morning I looked for her and called her. About 1 in the afternoon my husband calls me. "Honey, I'm at the triplex and you won't believe this - Livia is here, she was up in the under body of the truck bed."
She had crawled up in there to get out of the weather and had stayed there - through my searches for her before he left for work, through the trip to the Interstate, through the 70 MPH trip on the Interstate, and had even stayed up thre when my husband got to work and parked the truck. He left work on his lunch time to go to the triplex he owns in order to take our recycling there. When he moved the canister full of recycling in the truck bed THAT finally was more than she could bear and she left the truck and hid somewhere.
I drove down town and looked for her for an hour. I had with me a cat recovery kit consisting of 1) a cat carrier, 2) a towel to wrap her in if necessary, 3) a spoon and a can of cat food.
I met with no success and even went to the funeral home where my husband works in order to look there in CASE she had crawled back up in the truck. Nothing.
I went back this morning agains fully equipped with my cat recover kit - and also a little dish to put the cat food in so IF I found her she could eat without cutting her little face OR if I had to resort to opening the can to attract her I could at least not have cat food spilled all over the place on the ride home.
I got to the Triplex and called and called with no response. Putting my "cat thinkin cap on" I determined what I would do if I were a frightened little cat who did not like to travel far from my security base and I was mysteriously transported to a very strange place. Aha!! Over there in the cover of the overgrown greenery on a back porch that is never used! Perfect - no one can see me, I'm off the ground and I can think about my situation as I recover from my fear and DAMN!! I am hungry!!
So I walked over closer to that area, called, tapped the can with the spoon - a sure fire way to get a cat's attention regardless of hearing issues - and I hear a little meow. I persist and sure enough, a little cat face appears, she recognized me and had quite a series of complaints about hunger first and foremost and about how very much she does NOT like to travel and where exactly am I any way mom?
I open the can and profer it to her in the little dish and she happily begins to eat although you can tell she is still a little freaked out by her travels. I go to get the cat carrier and slip the food dish well back in to it. I gently grab her up and attempt to place her in the carrier as well.
Did I mention she hates to get in the cat carrier? She will NOT be put in. I pick her up and pet her and try to calm her. She does indeed calm a bit but still refuses admission to the carrier. Another petting and soothing and I determine if I can just get her part way in I can push her with the closing door and - oh yeah baby! Success. She is in the carrier although not really happy about it. Then when I pick it up the swaying of it starts her fright anew. So I pick it up like a box and put it in the car, cover it with a blanket and get in the front seat and start up the motor. Total quiet and apparent calm reigns in the back seat. For a while. Now for the 15 mile trip back home through town.
We arrive home with relatively little complaints from the back seat and upon her release you can see she still is a little shaken by her adventure but ever so happy to be home at last. Maybe no more road trips for her..
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)