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In Klezskavania Children Eat Rocks
Apr. 17th, 2005 12:01 amI just got back from a hot date with K. We went to see In Klezskavania with the Plaid Tongued Devils.
You ever have one of those dates were everything goes wrong and it turns out just awful. Well this started out as one of those dates, but thankfully didn't end up that way.
We met at the Old Spaghetti Factory, where K was wearing a stunning ensemble consisting of a black blouse, short red skirt. She was stunningly beautiful. I'd show you a picture, but I'd like there to be a second date.
Now the OSF has fairly simple food - pasta basically. K ordered a veggie lasagna and I ordered a chicken breast with spaghetti. The meals included a salad and a scoop of ice cream for dessert.
I was eating my salad when I discovered a piece of lettuce that was transparent - because it wasn't lettuce, it was a pice of plastic (the corner of bag that some of the vegetables came in I hypothesize). Now I'm not a big complainer, but I figured the server should know because the next person to get some plastic in their salad may not be so forgiving. She offered to get the manager, but I figured it wasn't worth my time. I had informed her and she said she would take it up with the kitchen staff.
Our entrees arrive and we dig in. My chicken/spaghetti combo was OK, no great shakes, but it was only $14 so I wasn't expecting the same caliber of meal as, say, Wildwood. K gets halfway through her lasagna when it suddenly turns on her. I don't mean she became ill, but the left half of the plate was different from the right hand of her plate. The noodles were too soggy and the spinach was too crisp. We weren't too sure how that was even possible (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kermie_canada's suggestion: They soaked the noodles too long then under-baked the lasagna). At this point K decides to tell the manager. As he was hovering nearby we didn't need to wait too long for that to happen.
The manager makes all the right noises and apologizes profusely. Then he leaves. At this point we were still ok with the overall meal - shit happens after all and not every meal can be perfect.
Then K finds a big long shred of carrot in her milk. We call the manager over again. He deflates when we explain that this is the third thing wrong with the meal. He pauses for a second, knowing what he must do but not liking it and then tells us the meal is free.
We had our ice cream and left. K and I both deciding that spumoni is better than vanilla. We tipped the server (because it wasn't her fault and she did try to fix things).
I'd go back, but only because they comped our meal this time. I can excuse a one time error (or in this case, a three time error), but if the restaurant doesn't try to fix the problem, they don't deserve my business. The King's Head pub in Vancouver is an example of a restaurant who's door I am never darkening again. Maybe I'll tell that story someday.
We rushed over to the Epcor Center so that we could try and get tickets to the show. Normally, I would already have the tickets, but they were sold out. However, I do know that most shows keep VIP tickets, and sometimes tickets get returned at the last minute. I was hopeful that we could still get into the show despite it being technically sold out.
Our luck having turned from bad (our meals) to good (our show) we managed to get the last two tickets to see In Klezskavania.
It was a blast. The band was rocking (and had a sound I'm not familiar with). The singing and dancing was fantastic. The show was funny and bawdy and absolutely, gorgeously, blasphemous. Go see it.
Afterwards, K and I shared a cab. She was dropped off early and I went home. I've got a smile on my face and a song in my heart as I type this. Oh, and also a mental image of a vampire's ferret-like boobs with nipples as long as my index finger (shudder).
It's a great show. Take a hottie goth chick to see it today, just don't order the lasagna.
You ever have one of those dates were everything goes wrong and it turns out just awful. Well this started out as one of those dates, but thankfully didn't end up that way.
We met at the Old Spaghetti Factory, where K was wearing a stunning ensemble consisting of a black blouse, short red skirt. She was stunningly beautiful. I'd show you a picture, but I'd like there to be a second date.
Now the OSF has fairly simple food - pasta basically. K ordered a veggie lasagna and I ordered a chicken breast with spaghetti. The meals included a salad and a scoop of ice cream for dessert.
I was eating my salad when I discovered a piece of lettuce that was transparent - because it wasn't lettuce, it was a pice of plastic (the corner of bag that some of the vegetables came in I hypothesize). Now I'm not a big complainer, but I figured the server should know because the next person to get some plastic in their salad may not be so forgiving. She offered to get the manager, but I figured it wasn't worth my time. I had informed her and she said she would take it up with the kitchen staff.
Our entrees arrive and we dig in. My chicken/spaghetti combo was OK, no great shakes, but it was only $14 so I wasn't expecting the same caliber of meal as, say, Wildwood. K gets halfway through her lasagna when it suddenly turns on her. I don't mean she became ill, but the left half of the plate was different from the right hand of her plate. The noodles were too soggy and the spinach was too crisp. We weren't too sure how that was even possible (
kermie_canada's suggestion: They soaked the noodles too long then under-baked the lasagna). At this point K decides to tell the manager. As he was hovering nearby we didn't need to wait too long for that to happen.The manager makes all the right noises and apologizes profusely. Then he leaves. At this point we were still ok with the overall meal - shit happens after all and not every meal can be perfect.
Then K finds a big long shred of carrot in her milk. We call the manager over again. He deflates when we explain that this is the third thing wrong with the meal. He pauses for a second, knowing what he must do but not liking it and then tells us the meal is free.
We had our ice cream and left. K and I both deciding that spumoni is better than vanilla. We tipped the server (because it wasn't her fault and she did try to fix things).
I'd go back, but only because they comped our meal this time. I can excuse a one time error (or in this case, a three time error), but if the restaurant doesn't try to fix the problem, they don't deserve my business. The King's Head pub in Vancouver is an example of a restaurant who's door I am never darkening again. Maybe I'll tell that story someday.
We rushed over to the Epcor Center so that we could try and get tickets to the show. Normally, I would already have the tickets, but they were sold out. However, I do know that most shows keep VIP tickets, and sometimes tickets get returned at the last minute. I was hopeful that we could still get into the show despite it being technically sold out.
Our luck having turned from bad (our meals) to good (our show) we managed to get the last two tickets to see In Klezskavania.
It was a blast. The band was rocking (and had a sound I'm not familiar with). The singing and dancing was fantastic. The show was funny and bawdy and absolutely, gorgeously, blasphemous. Go see it.
Afterwards, K and I shared a cab. She was dropped off early and I went home. I've got a smile on my face and a song in my heart as I type this. Oh, and also a mental image of a vampire's ferret-like boobs with nipples as long as my index finger (shudder).
It's a great show. Take a hottie goth chick to see it today, just don't order the lasagna.
