restaurant review

I want to talk again about how much I dislike Bar Tabac. Last night I gave it a third try and I still don't like it. Start with the service. Well first of all the place where you wait for a table is entirely filled by a foosball table, which is just so stupid I won't even mention it. So then you sit down and before your coats are off you're asked about drinks, which aren't on the menu. You ask for water and you get that stupid "still, sparkling or tap?" crap. That is always so unclassy to me. If I want fucking mineral water I know it and I'll jolly well say so. It's exactly like saying "you want fries with that?" It's classic "up-selling" and it belongs only in franchise operations like Macaroni Grill where the employees have orientation at Corporate and have to follow this three-ring binder "associates manual" that has pages where "SMILE" is some goddamn mnemonic acronym for like "selling, motivating, ingratiating, lick-ass, emesis" or something. Ew ew ew. The worst is when the bottle of water is already cluttering up your table as if it were free but it's really $11 and you have to actively be all "no thanks, I'm cheap, send it away!" So I'm ordering wine, I want red wine, and he's all "what type of experience are you looking for in a wine?" and I'm like "oh, watching you get reamed up the ass, actually" and he's all OK then, you want a blah di blah, which I know is expensive just from looking at him but I'm not going to be all niggly about "how much is that one? and that one? and that one?" How hard is it just to print up a damn beverage card? After dinner my friend wanted an Armagnac so he had to listen to this dude go on about those, only to have him come back and be like "we're out of the more 'budget' Armagnacs, all we have is a very nice one for $21...would you consider that?" And he's all, "uh, no." And I'm thinking, dang that stuff must be syrup by now, how long has that been sitting behind the bar keeping warm by some decorative votive candle? What are they doing with a $21 glass of Armagnac, who do they think is going to drink that here at a "bistro" with a freakin foosball table in it?

So then we're ordering food. Armagnac friend says: "I'm trying to decide between the tuna and the hanger steak." And the waiter says "well how hungry are you?" and friend says "Quite." What kind of question is that, anyway? Is there no other relevant difference between the dishes? So he says "have the tuna." I get the hanger steak. When the food comes, the tuna is actually less food, it's much lighter. Later we try to theorize on what the waiter heard instead of "quite." "Light?" "How hungry are you?" "Light." That makes no sense. Or maybe he was supposed to say "very." Semantically speaking I don't think very is actually more extreme than quite. Across the table, another person already knows he wants to have tuna. "And how would you like that done, sir?" "Uh, what? Well, as done as can be?" "Oh dear god no! You don't want to overcook it! You can only get it rare or medium rare! You've just killed a baby!" Fine, if this primadonna chef in this "casual bistro" where by the way the tuna is $17.95, thinks it should be cooked a certain way, he should just do so. Show some confidence. Put "seared rare ahi steak" on the menu like a normal person. Then we're asked what doneness we want for our hanger steaks, which really makes not a lot of difference when you're talking about a thin cut like that. I ask for medium and it comes with burnt crisp edges, whatever. It's supposed to have shallot sauce, but who knows what it's swimming in, it's like a stew. It comes with "mushroom risotto" which tastes like yesterday's grits with velveeta mixed in. It's cold and thin like a gruel. The baby gets bow-tie pasta with tomato sauce. She barely touches it, which we put down to weird vagaries of being a baby. But then some of us are still "quite" hungry after our little meals so we decide to eat it. Apparently Chef Boyardee has launched a canned bow-tie pasta. Mush and sugar and boy was it nasty. It reminded me of "how do we know dog food tastes good, they can't tell us!" Because the baby can't quite talk yet. Her mom's shell steak was none too good either, I had some of that. And the salad with it had been overdressed sometime long before.

Basically what I'm saying is, I hate up-selling. I hate being made to feel declasse. I hate pretension and I hate obsequiousness. I went to this other place, in Greenwich, "Valbella!" which supposedly Regis Philbin loves. The food was indeed good but the waiter was terrible. He was not all that competent but made up for it with fawning; every two seconds he was calling my mom (who is 72) "beautiful young lady" "and for the young girl?" "my precious?" "she in whose honor I presume to draw each humble breath?" it was embarrassing.

People razz me, they say "Kathy, why you gotta hate? Is there anything you like?" Shockingly enough, the answer is yes. I love cute dogs and cute boys. I enjoyed eating out last night because of the company. I enjoyed the food at "Valbella!" On Tuesday I even had a great meal at Sidewalk Cafe on Avenue A, if you can believe it. Lemon chicken with garlic-wilted spinach and wasabi mashed potatoes topped with caramelized onions. They let you choose your side dishes, like at Boston Market! Except they're good. The spinach was not frozen or unwashed. The potatoes were real, I think, and the wasabi had a light touch. The sauce did not cover the entire plate. The waiter was good too, he could remember what kind of beer you were drinking and would make eye contact with you when he went by, in case you might need something. Unlike at Lil Frankie's last week, where the staff's avoidance of eye contact actually reached comedic levels. There were too many customers for the number of staff. Food was good though. I love Max in the East Village. Their lamb ragu is so amazing. They probably use an obscene amount of butter. The meatloaf stuffed with cheese is also very good. Don't go for the chicken cutlet because it's like a frozen Weaver cutlet sitting on top of a wilted soggy salad. With diced tomatoes on top so the cutlet gets wilted too. It sits there like a landmine on the menu. Gramercy Tavern is amazing, make your parents take you there. There's like one waiter for each diner but you don't feel smothered. The food is revelatory. I would eat raw eyeballs if they told me to, and it would be good.

Gee I feel super after getting this all off my chest. Who wants to go out to dinner?