restaurants

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A “Bowl”

When a restaurant puts the stuff patrons will eat in a bowl instead of on a plate, they call the dish a “bowl” and then charge more for it than if it had been on a plate.

Oh, another thing restaurants do, especially in Portland, is to sell “small plates.” They call them tapas so they and their patrons can pretend they’re multicultural. The idea behind “small plates” is to have a whole gang of people sit around a table with “small plates” and then take samples from each plate. It’s like one big Norman Rockwell painting or a movie where everyone has these big dinner parties and life is lively and splashy.

The only problem (well, one of many) is that most people eat in pairs or small groups that are not lively and splashy. Then you have this small table covered with a multitude of plates and there is nowhere to put anything. More often than not the plates have very little food on them, and certainly not enough to “share.” Also, if you’re like me and don’t eat a lot of what others eat, sharing isn’t really that appealing.

Basically the idea, I think, is to sell these “small plates” based on the marketing (you are a group of hip, culturally aware citizens eating together at a fancy restaurant with swiggles all over your plates!), knowing they can charge four times what the same four dishes on one bigger plate would have cost. You look at the menu and think, “Oh, it’s only $8.95 for a dish,” not realizing that it’s $8.95 per side, and you’ll end up paying 36 bucks for a plate of food. And since the portion sizes are smaller than they would have been on a bigger plate (allowing for fancy swizzling of sauce, etc.), you actually end up paying more because of that too. Overall, it’s just a big scam.

There was a restaurant we used to frequent frequently. They have gradually replaced all their meals in this fashion. They claim it gives “more choice” because you can mix and match your side dishes. No. All it does is make the whole enterprise vastly more expensive and the table more cluttered. We don’t like this. We don’t eat there anymore. Good for us and our wallets, bad for them. Or maybe not. Maybe they have other patrons who like the clutter and the cost.

Somehow this went from an observation on “bowls” to a diatribe on small plates. Funny how that goes.

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The Customer is Always Replaceable

This is a repost from a blog posting I wrote in 2008. I don’t go to Taco Hell now either, but I like the rant so I’m reposting.

The Customer is Always Right. I used to see this sign in businesses. The theory behind it is a pleasant one, although I usually only saw it invoked as a means for bullies to treat customer service representatives like crap. But today, it seems the idea has gone completely out the window. It’s like stores don’t give a shit anymore if we don’t patronize their businesses; 800 people will be standing in line behind us if we don’t like the service that we get. It’s this way with stores, restaurants, customer call centers, you name it. I don’t eat out much. For one thing, it’s expensive as hell. For another, I heard Portland has had an outbreak of Hepatitis A and that it is often spread by restaurants. Since I had to get a shot in the butt in 1990 for an e-coli outbreak, and the thought of eating someone else’s poo is just more than I can manage, I avoid restaurants.

But sometimes you’re across town and starving as hell and ready to run people over your blood sugar is so low and you’re willing to eat all the things you wouldn’t normally touch from a mile away because you’re that hungry. That was me today. I recognized intellectually that I felt like a wretch and I didn’t care because I needed food.  So I went to Taco Hell. Yeah, I know it’s gross. But it’s cheap and they have this burrito with rice in it and I don’t get cheese so I went. The service was horrendous. The charming “customer service” representative who took my order informed me that the burrito I like “cannot be grilled.”

Huh? I told her when I’ve patronized the Taco Hell by my house they always grill it for me. Well, she sneered, that’s another franchise. Uh, okay. Small problem. When I’m hungry, I don’t care how big a bitch I am, at least when I’m that hungry. And I was that hungry. But I’m working hard on living in the moment and I did not want to be the bully customer who makes a worker feel like shit. I sat there in my car waiting to pull up to the window and thinking how irrelevant all this is and what a waste of my energy, but I was still getting annoyed. So I decided to be calm, but I still wanted to know why can’t they just grill my fucking burrito?

I pulled up and asked the kind lady how come they couldn’t grill my burrito. She said it is just a store policy. I said that isn’t an answer, it doesn’t tell me why the policy is in place. She said she didn’t know. Across the way a man who was probably a higher up manager because he wasn’t wearing the fancy Taco Hell outfit but instead had on a cheap shirt and tie came over and asked the problem. I started to say there wasn’t a problem, I just wanted to know why my burrito couldn’t be grilled. He said they are not allowed to grill them, company policy. I said that I get them grilled at the Taco Hell by my house. He said they aren’t supposed to. Then the girl helping said something to him and he turned to me and said it was a health issue. Huh? I said how in the world is it a health issue? He said it’s like giving them a cup and asking them to fill it. It has my germs on it. I was VERY confused at this point. My lack of blood sugar addled brain couldn’t quite muster what was going on. I said how in the world can it be a health issue to grill a freaking burrito? It’s in the restaurant, you put on all the ingredients. I never touch it. He just walked away.

At this point, I didn’t give a shit if my burrito was grilled or not. I just wanted to eat. I sat and waited until the girl handed me the bag. I asked for my water and drove off. I pulled to the side of the parking lot to eat it and it was grilled. Weird.

The main thing I kept thinking about after all this was that had I threatened to take my business elsewhere, they would have said fine, go ahead. We don’t need your two dollars. Companies have gotten so big that the customer isn’t right anymore. Everyone puts up and shuts up about crappy customer service because there is nowhere else to go where it will be any better. This is another byproduct of our one-size-fits-all one dimensional corporate society. Hate waiting on the phone on hold for 20 minutes when you call the phone company? Fine, go somewhere else. And while you’re at it we’ll charge you $200 because you’re in a lopsided bullshit contract.  Hate the piece of crap you bought at the Dollar Store? Too bad for you. No refunds.  Who cares if the state law allows you to return a defective item to a store with no refunds. You planning to sue us over a dollar? Don’t want to wait in line at a store with no employees? Fine, leave. Better yet, stand in line for 10 minutes, then leave. See if we care. Want your burrito grilled and we won’t do it?  Go fuck yourself. We don’t pay our workers enough to care. We don’t hire enough workers so they’re all pissed off all the time. Go somewhere else. Again, see if we care. That’s capitalism. It leaves no one alive.

I know this is a cynical bitchy rant. I shouldn’t complain without offering some solution. But I don’t know what the solution is. I go out of my way to avoid patronizing monster corporations, but sometimes it’s inevitable.  Sometimes it’s just being so damn hungry I’ll eat a rat in the gutter or Taco Hell. Those are the times those places get my business. I never go to Walmart or McDonald’s ever, and I mean never. They could be the last businesses on earth and I wouldn’t go there. Maybe there isn’t a solution unless enough people say enough, and judging by the lines in SkankDonald’s and Taco Hell or the mass of cars in the SkankMart parking lot, that isn’t going to happen anytime soon. In the meantime I guess I’ll rant on my blog.

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McMeanamin’s

If any person I know is ever with me when I consider going into a McMenamin’s again, please stop me. Just don’t let me do it. It won’t take much prodding. The only reason I would be considering such torture would be because I was on the verge of passing out from hunger, but even then, encourage me to find some ants or flies to tide me over. It’s not worth it. Remind me that no matter which location I go to or what time of day, the service will be so abysmal that I will want to leave something vile for the server, like a gutted chicken filled with maggots, to let them know just how rotten their service was, and that I won’t be able to do it and will end up tipping 10% or something anyway and then feel grave resentment for having done so. Let me know that the server might just as likely see a gutted, maggot-filled chicken as evidence of my love because the server is quite likely a Satan worshipper. Not much else could explain their nastiness. Maybe it’s working at McMenamin’s, but I’ve never gotten the vibe that the servers suck because of their employer. They don’t seem harried and rushed because of some evil manager or cook hiding in the back flogging them on, pushing them to move faster and thus turn over the tables more quickly. Rather, servers seem proud of their odious attitudes, conspicuous indifference, and reprehensible lack of courtesy. It’s like a badge of honor there. We customers should be grateful they bothered to meander by and notice us. We should thank our lucky stars that grease-spotted menus were left on the tables, and that if we are extra, extra nice, we might get some food-like substances tossed our way. Don’t bother asking to have it prepared as we like it, that’s not the McMenamin’s way. And definitely, definitely, definitely do not go there if you are in any semblance of a hurry. Better yet, order and drink alcohol so you won’t notice just how disgusting the food really is, covered in grease and sauce and too much cheese and peppercorn. Maybe that’s their tactic to sell alcohol. They should call the place McMeanamin’s. I can’t think of a name that adequately describes their awful bar food, but it doesn’t matter because awful bar food isn’t what makes the place special. It’s their amaranthine capacity for treating customers like shit that is McMeanamin’s real badge of honor. Any location. Any day. Any time. Expect the worst service, then multiply it by 14, and you’re about there.

In any case, please. If I won’t listen, show me this post and remind me. I beg you.

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Koji in Downtown Portland

My friend locked her keys in a job site house in Multnomah Village.  Her spares were at home in Happy Valley.  Her husband did not have his mobile phone and was waiting for her in downtown Portland.  To make another key would cost $300 because of the kind of car she has.  She could not find anyone to help her so she called me.  I drove from my house in NE Portland to her house in Happy Valley, then to Multnomah Village to bring her the spare key.  In return, she took me to dinner at Koji in downtown Portland, on SW Broadway, between SW Salmon and SW Main.

I have eaten at Koji on NE Weidler.  I liked the meal well enough, although I thought it was expensive.  I ate it during moving when I had not had a regular hot meal for a few days.  It was delicious.  The meal in downtown Koji was delicious also.  However the salmon was really tough.  For the price of that meal, it should have been prepared better.

A long time ago I worked in a fish market.  I cut up giant Halibuts that weighed three times as much as I did, using a mallet and a square knife.  I filleted Salmon.  I cut steaks from Red Snapper.  I gutted trout.  I also learned to cook fish, and the one thing I learned above all else when cooking fish is to cook it hot and cook it fast, otherwise it gets tough.  You can’t cook fish like steak or poultry.  Its meat isn’t as dense.  If you leave it in the oven to bake like you would land meat, it will be tough.

The salmon at Koji was like this.  It had been cooked too long.  Either they cooked it earlier in the evening and left it under a heat lamp, or they cooked it too long before bringing it to me.  It wasn’t very warm, so I suspect the former is true.  In either case, there is no excuse.  For the price of that meal and the way that restaurant bills itself, it should know how to prepare salmon.

The rest of the food doesn’t stand out one way or another to me.  It was fine, I think. The miso soup was hearty, as miso soups go.  My baby liked the rice I gave her.

Oh, one funny thing happened.  The server came over and asked if I wanted anything for the baby.  I told her she would just have milk.  The server said “Oh, we don’t have milk.”  “Well, I do!” I told her.  It was funny.  I will give Koji this, the servers were very attentive.  It may have helped that we were the only customers in the place, but that doesn’t negate that they did a good job.

Unfortunately, I don’t recommend Koji.  Because the same type of food can be found elsewhere in Portland, including downtown, and also because I have had salmon at other Japanese restaurants just up the street from the downtown Koji whose prices are not as high.  The other Koji location on NE Weidler was better than the downtown location, but again, there is another Japanese restaurant only a few blocks away where the food is just as good and it costs less.

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Cameo Cafe

I love the Cameo Cafe (8111 NE Sandy Boulevard).  It’s kitschy, small, and in a sort of odd location, but the food is delicious and the prices can’t be beat.  They always use fresh ingredients.  They are only open during the day until 3, so breakfast seems to be the main thing for them, but they also have a delicious lunch menu.

Their specialty is a bread called Strong Bread.  I’m not sure why it’s called that.  Next time I go in I will ask.  It is covered in poppyseeds, and buttery yummy.  It is hard to resist.  If you’re on a bread-free diet, don’t go there or at least make sure they don’t bring this bread to your table or you’ll be off your diet.

They have a salmon salad covered in fresh veggies and spinach.  The salmon is generous and always cooked to perfection.  I haven’t been to many restaurants, especially one like this that looks like a truck stop diner, that cooks salmon so well (see the next review I’m planning to do on Koji, for a place that can’t cook salmon).

The decor is odd, but it is unique and fun–sort of garage sale meets diner.  For instance, there is a carousel about a foot and a half tall, with lights on it, that sits in the corner, spinning away as you eat.  There are photos of Miss Oregon all over the doors.  There are fake plants in various locations. The chairs are these metal things with heart-shaped backs.  There is a long dining counter and tables along the wall.  There is outside seating on the patio and a chicken coop near the front entrance by the street with cute chickens inside.

The service has always been splendid when I’ve been there.  All the servers chip in to help.  The service is definitely a big reason I like going to this place.  If they had terrible service, it wouldn’t be as fun. The place is too small for grousy servers.

I recommend Cameo Cafe.  It’s got personality.  It’s not the biggest place in the world, so it isn’t the place to go if you’ve got a big party, but fun for a few.

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The Tin Shed (NE 14th and Alberta)

This blog needs something. It’s crapped out in the last year. Gone from a trickle to a drip. Part of it is that I don’t really feel like working out my own bs here anymore. I thought I did. I started doing that again a while back, but it felt weird. The other big reason is that I have an infant and work and having an infant is s full-time job in and of itself without the addition of a job outside the home. Plus, sad but true, I must not be such a full blown artist devoted to my writing because given the opportunity to sleep, I choose sleep, every time. Today I specifically set my alarm to get up earlier to write, so I suppose there might be hope for me yet, but it’s dicey. I have even toyed with the idea of shutting this blog down, but then where would everyone go to bitch about Pure Med Spa, Brite Smile, et al?

So in an effort to breathe new life into the thing, I’m going to use it to post my non-foody opinion about restaurants in Portland and nearby.  I eat out way too much, why not use it for something more than a hit on my pocketbook? It can be creative inspiration.  Then someday if I ever get enough reviews, I’ll make them into a pamphlet for no one to read.  I plan to change the look of the blog too, when I can find the time, but for now, this is it.

First review:  The Tin Shed, NE 14th and Alberta, in Portland.

The Tin Shed is my daughter’s favorite restaurant, namely because patrons can bring their dogs if they decide to sit on the outside porch. I give The Tin Shed high marks for service.  Nearly every time I have gone there the service has been impeccable. I say nearly because once I went there and had a server who visited our table maybe once after taking the initial order, but that was an anomaly.

Last night I ate there with my two daughters (age 9 months and 11 years), my mom, my three-year-old niece, and my dog.  The service was fantastic. I’m not sure if this is a regular feature of the restaurant, but it seems like I always get a primary server, and then everyone else really helps out. This was definitely the case last night.  We never had to want for drink refills or anything. The server brought the children their food as soon as it was ready, which was great considering the three-year-old wanted to climb on the table and baby was starting to grab everything in sight.

Immediately upon being seated, the server brought our dog a bowl of water. She spilled it minutes later, but the service was still canine thoughtful.

Oregon had 100 degree weather for about five minutes, then as is often the case here, it got cold again (I think it is about 60 degrees out right now). We were seated out on the patio because of the dog (doggie customers must sit at patio seating), and the wind started to blow. We asked management to turn on the heater above our table. They did so, which led to patrons at other tables asking for their heaters to be turned on. The patio toasted up nicely. The server also pointed us to a closet filled with blankets we could use. Now that’s cool (or warm, as the case may be). We were all snuggled up at our table in blankets under a heater in July. Good, old climate change.

The food was delicious. I particularly like a dish called Baby Beluga. There isn’t any beluga in it.  It’s rice, avocados, spinach, raisins, and a few other vegetables, with a yellow curry sauce. I get the sauce on the side because it has a pretty good spice kick and I’m a wimp, but on the side, I can tolerate it just fine in smaller amounts.

The children each ordered noodles with butter and Parmesan. The Parmesan was the real stuff, not that powdery, disgusting crap.  The noodles were swirly, which the children loved. Good stuff. Mom had the stack sandwich. My daughter’s dad has gotten that before and both he and my mom give it rave reviews.

I only have one small complaint. Our table was next to the entrance, and up on a curb. I tripped on the curb sitting at the table, and my mom actually tripped and fell backwards about five feet into the planter behind her.  If she had been holding my baby, both of them could really have been hurt.  The host said there was supposed to be a planter there.  I suggest they return it there pretty immediately, or they might have a lawsuit on their hands. It’s really quite dangerous.

Actually, I take it back.  I have another complaint, although it did not apply last night.  Any time I have eaten indoors, the music has been too loud. When music is so loud that conversation is difficult, it’s too loud. Restaurant lately seem to like to play music really loudly. I personally hate this. I find it extremely distracting. I never like it. If I wanted to go to a disco, I would go to a disco. I do not like to shout to my dinner companions, and if I’m eating alone, I like to read, and I don’t like reading in a disco. Perhaps I’m alone in this, but I can’t stand it, and it is one reason I have passed up The Tin Shed on occasion.  Other than that and the unsafe curb table, I really like the place and recommend it.

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The Customer is Always Replaceable

The Customer is Always Right.  I used to see this sign in businesses.  The theory behind it is a pleasant one, although I usually only saw it invoked as a means for bullies to treat customer service representatives like crap.  But today, it seems the idea has gone completely out the window.  It’s like stores don’t give a shit anymore if we don’t patronize their businesses; 800 people will be standing in line behind us if we don’t like the service that we get.  It’s this way with stores, restaurants, customer call centers, you name it.

I don’t eat out much.  For one thing, it’s expensive as hell.  For another, I heard Portland has had an outbreak of Hepatitis A and that it is often spread by restaurants.  Since I had to get a shot in the butt in 1990 for an e-coli outbreak, and the thought of eating someone else’s poo is just more than I can manage, I avoid restaurants.

But sometimes you’re across town and starving as hell and ready to run people over your blood sugar is so low and you’re willing to eat all the things you wouldn’t normally touch from a mile away because you’re that hungry.  That was me today.  I recognized intellectually that I felt like a wretch and I didn’t care because I needed food.  So I went to Taco Hell.  Yeah, I know it’s gross.  But it’s cheap and they have this burrito with rice in it and I don’t get cheese so I went.  The service was horrendous.  The charming “customer service” representative who took my order informed me that the burrito I like “cannot be grilled.”

Huh?  I told her when I’ve patronized the Taco Hell by my house they always grill it for me.  Well, she sneered, that’s another franchise.  Uh, okay.  Small problem.  When I’m hungry, I don’t care how big a bitch I am, at least when I’m that hungry.  And I was that hungry.  But I’m working hard on living in the moment and I did not want to be the bully customer who makes a worker feel like shit.  I sat there in my car waiting to pull up to the window and thinking how irrelevant all this is and what a waste of my energy, but I was still getting angry.  So I decided to be calm, but I still wanted to know why can’t they just grill my fucking burrito?

I pulled up and asked the kind lady how come they couldn’t grill my burrito.  She said it is just a store policy.  I said that isn’t an answer, it doesn’t tell me why the policy is in place.  She said she didn’t know.  Across the way a man who was probably a higher up manager because he wasn’t wearing the fancy Taco Hell outfit but instead had on a cheap shirt and tie came over and asked the problem.  I started to say there wasn’t a problem, I just wanted to know why my burrito couldn’t be grilled.  He said they are not allowed to grill them, company policy.  I said that I get them grilled at the Taco Hell by my house.  He said they aren’t supposed to.  Then the girl helping said something to him and he turned to me and said it was a health issue.

Huh?  I said how in the world is it a health issue?  He said it’s like giving them a cup and asking them to fill it.  It has my germs on it.  I was VERY confused at this point.  My lack of blood sugar addled brain couldn’t quite muster what was going on.  I said how in the world can it be a health issue to grill a freaking burrito?  It’s in the restaurant, you put on all the ingredients.  I never touch it.  He just walked away.

At this point, I didn’t give a shit if my burrito was grilled or not.  I just wanted to eat.  I sat and waited until the girl handed me the bag.  I asked for my water and drove off.  I pulled to the side of the parking lot to eat it and it was grilled.  Weird.

The main thing I kept thinking about after all this was that had I threatened to take my business elsewhere, they would have said fine, go ahead.  We don’t need your two dollars.  Companies have gotten so big that the customer isn’t right anymore. Everyone puts up and shuts up about crappy customer service because there is nowhere else to go where it will be any better.  This is another byproduct of our one-size-fits-all one dimensional corporate society.  Hate waiting on the phone on hold for 20 minutes when you call the phone company?  Fine, go somewhere else.  And while you’re at it we’ll charge you $200 because you’re in a lopsided bullshit contract.  Hate the piece of crap you bought at the Dollar Store?  Too bad for you.  No refunds.  Who cares if the state law allows you to return a defective item to a store with no refunds.  You planning to sue us over a dollar?  Don’t want to wait in line at a store with no employees?  Fine, leave.  Better yet, stand in line for 10 minutes, then leave.  See if we care.  Want your burrito grilled and we won’t do it?  Go fuck yourself.  We don’t pay our workers enough to care.  We don’t hire enough workers so they’re all pissed off all the time.  Go somewhere else. Again, see if we care.

I know this is a cynical bitchy rant.  I shouldn’t complain without offering some solution.  But I don’t know what the solution is.  I go out of my way to avoid patronizing monster corporations, but sometimes it’s inevitable.  Sometimes it’s just being so damn hungry I’ll eat a rat in the gutter or Taco Hell.  Those are the times those places get my business.  I never go to Walmart or McDonald’s ever, and I mean never.  They could be the last businesses on earth and I wouldn’t go there.  Maybe there isn’t a solution unless enough people say enough, and judging by the lines in SkankDonald’s and Taco Hell or the mass of cars in the SkankMart parking lot, that isn’t going to happen anytime soon.  In the meantime I guess I’ll rant on my blog.

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Restaurant Status Anxiety

What is it with servers in upscale restaurants telling patrons that everything is their’s?  What is the soup today?  Well, I have the red curry muttonchop pecan basil noodle with french onions.  You do?  Really?  Did you get that mutton yourself or did you have someone do it for you?  And tell me, is bread offered with the meal?  Well, no.  I do not offer bread.  What is that?  Do they want us to think that they are the ones in the back preparing the meal, like we’re having some kind of personal relationship with this person or something?  We’re supposed to pretend that the kitchen doesn’t exist and assume it’s all created out of thin air by some supercillious server?

And what is up with the attitude?  Are they trying to act like an ass as a means to intercept my acting like an ass?  Do they think that if they treat me with a superiority complex then perhaps I won’t roll mine out?  Get over yourself.  You’re doing your job.  I’m buying some food and perhaps enjoying some company.  End of story.  Stop with the attitude already.

Finally, the food.  Why is chicken noodle soup a “chicken broth basted pasta with basil and onion”?  Uh no.  Chicken noodle soup.  Call it what you want.  Charge fourteen times what it’s worth if you want to, it’s still chicken noodle soup!

Status anxiety in restaurants is the most annoying kind.  Customers go in and treat the wait staff like crap because they are servers. Servers treat the customers like crap because they want the customers to know how busy and important their restaurant is.  Restaurants cater to customers who believe they are busy and important because of how much money they have or the job that they do.  All of it is so damn annoying and obvious.  It makes me want to scream.

One time, shortly after graduating from law school, I was eating at a restaurant with a law school friend.  While we were there, a law school alum and acquaintance who had been hired by one of the big ten firms in town came over to say hello.  He flipped his business card at us.  It was so pretentious, I had to wonder what he wanted to prove.  He literally flipped it, holding it in two fingers.  My friend and I discovered after leaving the restaurant that the place had just that week been voted one of the “Top Eats” in town and was a place to “See and be seen.”  Getting a table there was supposed to be a feat in and of itself.  Oh, okay.  Business card now makes sense.  Unfortunately, we were not duly impressed, we were only confused and thought it was weird.  How had we gotten a table?  Was it because my friend had an Australian accent?  Did we give off “lawyer vibe” in our jeans and sweaters and lawyers were customers the restaurant wanted?  We had no idea.  That’s how it is with us not on the radar types.  We had gotten a table without even trying at a restaurant where getting a table was apparently a difficulty and we had zero clue.  I want to stay off the radar.  I want to go somewhere and eat food because it tastes good and the company I’m with is enjoyable.  I don’t want to concern myself with how busy and important the restaurant is or how impressive I am.

I ate at a restaurant today that inspired this bit of restaurant philosophy.  The server was friendly until she discovered we were not ordering large quantities of food, appetizers, an entree, a dessert, and wine.  It felt to my friend and me like she made an assumption about us because her attitude towards us changed after we ordered small meals.  She called everything hers and the food all had pretentious names.  Our order wasn’t exactly as we had asked for and she appeared at our table as infrequently as she could get away with.  As this occurred, I enjoyed the company of my friend and thought briefly about this experience.  She doesn’t know how much money I have or who I am. What if I had an important job (as defined by American culture) and lots of money?  What if I frequented restaurants on a regular basis?  Whatever her reasons for treating us like we were beneath her and for giving us terrible service, I will not go back to that restaurant anytime soon and I did not tip more than ten percent.