Butternut squash soup: warm, silky, sweet, filling, creamy, perfect.
Seared pork loin with skillet potatoes, roasted garlic and red mustard: the pork was so damn good and whatever that sauce was needed a straw so I could drink it. The skillet potato was good but it looked and tasted like a hash brown from McDonald's. (That is not a complaint.) The greens were greens. I didn't eat them.
Side of mashed potatoes: the most buttery smooth mashed potatoes I have ever had. They reminded me of the mashed potatoes in a Swanson frozen dinner. (And that is not a complaint.)
Dark chocolate torte with whipped sour cream: of course it was good. Chocolate torte. Duh.
And now the service. First the hostesses. They were all like really pretty, like oh my god, like do you have a reservation, like, we will be with you in a minute, like thank you for coming in. The usual restaurant hostesses. Whatever.
At the bar, the bartender was also gorgeous so she probably had sent in a photo with her resume. But she made a delicious Butter martini of citron, pomegranate liqueur, Cointreau and a splash of pineapple. She made them perfectly and at one point I saw her with two cocktail shakers in her hands and she was going to town with them. It looked like she was having a really good time.
My waiter left a lot to be desired. I don't need a lot of service when I go out. I really don't. But when eating at a highly rated place like Butter, I guess I expected a more attentive server who did the basic things that I learned back at Bennigan's. When the soup came out, I asked the runner for more bread. It never came. I assumed I would just ask the server when he came in for his two-minute check back. But he never came over. C'mon. Even at Pizzeria Uno I had to go back within two minutes to make sure the pizza skins were alright. But at this high falutin' place, the waiter doesn't do two-minute check back? He finally made an appearance and the bread request was made again. It eventually came. After the soup bowl was cleared, I expected a crumber at the table. It never came. Again, it's not like I crumb my table at home, but when I see waiters, runners, back waiters and managers walking around, I sorta thought someone would come and wipe up the fucking cornbread crumbs. No biggie. Whatever. Order another martini. The entree was great. He checked in on the table and I was all good. By now, martini number two was getting hold of me. Coffee was ordered and it took forever to get there. I saw the waiter talking in the sidestand so I knew that there must be a coffee person making it in exchange for a tip out. The dessert came and the plates were placed on the table with care. And then they stayed there. Once the plates were empty, he asked how everything was. "So good, thank you," I responded. He smiled and then walked away-without the plates. I assumed he'd tell a busser to clear the table. I asked for the check. The plates stayed. I paid the check. The plates stayed. He returned the credit card and the plates stayed. I was really surprised that no one took those damn fucking plates. I signed the card while holding the check presenter in my lap because the table had dirty fucking plates on it. He returned to pick up the credit voucher and still ignored the plates. What the hell? If I was eating at TGIFriday's sure, but Butter?
I figured the rules would be all strict here but based on the things I saw, it's pretty relaxed. For instance:
- the bartender texting on her phone.
- the waiter leaning against the sidestand and talking with a friend.
- placing my dessert spoon on the left side of the table. (minor, I know, but I have worked at places that we were not allowed to do that.)
- pouring water after picking up the glass with the rim. Really? Really? Is this a fucking diner on Eighth Avenue?
- the two hostesses sitting on a banquette as I left, each of them texting on their phones. (Maybe they were texting the bartender.)
- having to ask for the water to be filled two different times. (again not a big deal, but if there are a dozen people on the floor, that shouldn't happen, right?)
Click here to follow The Bitchy Waiter on Twitter.
Click here to find The Bitchy Waiter on Facebook.