Sunday, February 8, 2009

Somethings Wrong at Our House

Last night we ventured out for my birthday dinner. It snowed like crazy on my actual bday and besides, Mags come home from work completely wiped out so I suggested we wait until the weekend.
We decided that we would return to the restaurant where we got married. It's a two hundred year old inn. Its got all the quirks an old house has, creaky sloped floors, tiny doorways, low ceilings, fireplaces scattered throughout. And it has always had the best food. The best. The menu is small but everything on there that we ever had to eat there was fantastic. That was until last night.
We got there early and were seated immediately. Mags got a soda while I ordered a Sammy. It allll started with the beer. I know my beer and this wasn't a Boston Lager. I made a face and Mags inquired 'everything okay?'. I said "this beer is weird. It's almost, strawberry flavored."
"I'm tellin' ya."
So the next time our waitress came by, I inquired, politely of course.
"'Scuse me. Is this a flavored beer.?"
"No. What's wrong with it?"
"It kinda tastes like strawberries."
"Ohhh it's the winter ale."
Now see, I know it wasn't, but not one to make a scene I drank my "WinterAle"
So the appetizer (best dish of the night) came out and then our salads. The salads were good and the home-made dressings were really tasty.
Then, the main course. I ordered a fillet Mignon medium rare and Mags got a veal Osso Bucco dish.
My steak was practically blackened on the outside and bloody on the inside and when Mags took one whiff of her food, she pushed it aside. I cut away the seared flesh and ate my almost rare beef. I looked up and noticed her not eating. "What's wrong?"
"That meat doesn't taste right. Try it maybe it's just me."
So I tried it and I am sure the meat was almost past it's shelf life. It did smell bad. Our waitress finally came back and asked Mags what was wrong and she quietly told her the food was no good. The waitress acted all shocked and stuff. Mags told her "Smell it."
The waitress looked at her and then lifted the plate to her nose. She hesitated and then said, "Hmm you're the first person that's ever complained about this dish. Can I get you something else?" At this point Mags stomach was doing somersaults and she passed. 
Now this is very, very rare that a meal out would not be eaten by my wife. She's not a picky eater. In the 9 years we've been together, she has only sent back 2 meals. I mean the woman has eaten gazelle in Botswana, goat eyes with the tribal nomads in the high plains of Mongolia, and monkey butt in the Congo. (When I told you my wife was a rebel I wasn't kidding) In all seriousness, the woman likes to eat out and 99% of the time she enjoys her meals.
So in the end, the waitress didn't take the meal off our tab, heck she even had another waitress bring us our check. We asked this 'new' waitress if there was a new chef and she too was kinda caught off guard, "No he's been here for years." 'Years' meaning just under two, which is the last time we were there.
On the way out Mags was saying to me "I don't care if I ever eat there again."
An older couple coming up the porch heard her and the husband said to me "That bad?"
"Do not get the Osso bucco." was my only reply. Mags gave the wife the rest of the report.
Interestingly enough a couple at a nearby table had some complaints too. We couldn't hear it the whole story , but they left unhappy too.
Sadly, last night looked to be our last night eating there. What a shame. How can a place that used to be so very good, become so very bad??


Nelle said...


Madam Z said...

Didn't you ever have a pet goat, Nelle?? If you could eat goat eyes, with their horizontal, slit pupils, a bit of funky veal shouldn't bother you one bit!