Betty and I had brunch today at a restaurant that would remind one of Monk’s from Seinfeld. We’ve been to this establishment before and it meets many of my criteria for eating out: 1) kids menu; 2) something on the kids’ menu that finicky Betty will eat; 3) something that I, as a vegetarian, can eat; 4) clean; 5) inexpensive and 6) reasonably quick with the food. It also helps that I haven’t had any stomach issues as a result of eating there.
Impressed that this deli has both a store and a restaurant – plus a free kosher pickle bar – Betty declared this to be worthy of several stars in her personal Zagat guide.
“This is a fancy restaurant,” she declared, as we were seated.
Alas, today wasn’t the best dining experience. We never received napkins. Betty never received any utensils. Our meals (eggs, potatoes, and English muffin for me – hot dog and fries for Betty) took forever. My muffin would be coming “shortly,” the waitress informed me, adding that the kitchen staff needed to re-toast it. It arrived as I finished eating.
I’m usually an above-average tipper, and even at this point, the waitress still had a shot at something between 15-20% because it appeared that something was amiss with the kitchen. But, like the Dow, the tip dropped to barely 10% when I’d realized that she walked right past our table twice without asking if I wanted a refill of coffee (and boy, did I ever) … and she had a full carafe of coffee in her hand!
Ever the prepared mommy, I whipped out a crumpled-but-unused napkin from my purse and gave it to Betty.
“I never got a napkin,” she lamented. I nodded and said neither did I.
And then she added, “I guess this place isn’t that fancy after all.”