Tips for Tuesday! Want a better restaurant experience?

Before I tell you today’s tip, I need to give you a little back story. I’ll try to keep it brief and leave out some of the bitching. (If you skim the text you’ll see I had problems keeping it brief)

About a year ago, Brian and I decided that we were going to try a new downtown restaurant because a few of our friends had been there and had given it a thumbs up. We were excited but, like any abnormal couple, we needed to do a little research first.

After a few days of reading reviews, memorizing the online menu, interviewing past guests, and studying the floor plans provided to us by the county, we made a reservation for two.

Advice: When choosing a restaurant, choose it like you’re looking for a life partner.

Our Dinner

The restaurant was modern but warm, and beautifully decorated. We were seated in a one-bench curved booth, the kind where you’re forced to sit awkwardly next to one another while watching other diners eat.  I ordered a martini. Problem solved.

But problems began again when the food was served. ugh.  I get so bent out of shape when discussing this meal that I don’t even want to get into it…so much was wrong. Food was sent back, ingredients were missing, etc.  And believe it or not, before that night, we had never sent anything back to a kitchen…ever!  They had turned us into “those people”.

breathe kim. breathe.

The Fallout

Brian hates to bitch or complain to anyone unless it’s to (or about) friends or family. So imagine my surprise when he wrote a letter to the owner of the restaurant to inform him of our disappointment.  I was very proud of him…and then this happened…

We received a response from the owner saying that he had taken our letter seriously.  Turns out he was not in the restaurant that evening and had left his sous chef in charge.  As a result of our letter, he demoted the sous chef and fired the pastry chef. AND he shared our letter with his staff.  OH SHIT.

Later that evening, as we were laying in bed, we heard a car with a loud muffler slowly cruising down the street, then we heard a loud boom, then the car tearing away.  We glanced out the window and saw nothing out of the ordinary, so we went back to sleep.

In the morning, I found our mailbox on the ground decorated with a size 12 shoe print.

Me: “Hey Brian, by any chance did you put your last name and address on that letter?”

Him: “Maybe”  He totally did. Classic rookie move.

 

Your Tip is coming (that’s what she said! sorry)

Thanks for being so patient.  The obvious tip is to use a fake name when complaining but that’s not where I’m going with this.

We received a coupon recently for this very same restaurant.  Well, maybe not recently. We’ve been sitting on this coupon like it were a ticking time bomb.  But we decided to give it one more try because we’re twisted and beg for abuse like that.

We made the reservations under my maiden name and planned to pay in cash for fear that we would be identified. So now that our identities were safe, how could I ensure we would be served a well cooked meal? hmmm? Then I found the answer waiting for me at the bottom of my margarita (where all the best ideas are kept)…

PRETEND TO BE A FOOD CRITIC!

You’ll need:

1. glasses

2. a professional looking notebook (do not use your kid’s Spongebob folder)

3. a pen (again, not your kid’s)

4. a judgemental expression (fortunately, this comes natural to me)

 

Steps:

1. When you first sit down, relax, chit chat with the waiter, order your drink.

2.  When the waiter comes back, ask him his name. When he answers, pull out your notebook, ask him how he spells it (I don’t care if his name is Bob, ask him), and jot it down. He’ll ask why you’re writing his name down and you should answer very cryptically “Just curious. This is absolutely NOT for a food column” *wink*

3.  As each course is served, I want you to pull out your notebook, take a bite of food, nod, jot notes. And look bitchy while doing it. Like this…

Of course, you can take real notes if you like.  But I prefer to spend my time drawing scenes from my life.

“My Mornings” by K.S.

I recommend you continue your notes right through dessert and into your after-dinner cordial.  Though Brian didn’t think that was necessary…

4. Once the waiter hands you the bill and says “Have a great night folks!”, you can either give up the gig or really round out your performance with a “Can I quote you on that?”.  It’s up to you and your acting ability.

I believe this is a fool-proof way to experience the best food and service that a restaurant is capable of providing.  And I must say, we had a terrific meal thanks to me- but Brian thinks it was a coincidence.  I swear I don’t get enough credit in this household, so try this and validate me, please.

A Complaint Letter to Nestle – Give Me A Break!

Dear Nestle,

Let me begin by giving you a little background.

My love affair for the Kit Kat bar goes back to my childhood. Every time my grandmother came to visit she would bring me a Kit Kat and a dollar bill, sneaking them both into my pocket like it was our little secret. They have a delicious hold on my heart. Of course, one could argue that I’ve become conditioned to love Kit Kats, much like Pavlov’s dog salivated over that stupid bell. But that’s not the case. If it were, I’d crave a wine cooler every time I smelled patchouli and sat on a couch with questionable stains. But that’s another story.

So last week, when I performed my daily Kit Kat eating ritual, this happened:

I unwrapped my Kit Kat Bar

I broke the bars into sections so that I could savor each one individually.

I acknowledged the bar and thanked it for its sacrifice (I learned that from my studies of the American Indian)

I sang the song “Give me a break, give me a break, break me off a piece of that Kit Kat bar!”

I bit into the bar…but whaaaat??? No “snap” happened! NO. SNAP. HAPPENED.

Suddenly, questions were swirling around my head

Why didn’t I hear a crunch? Where’s my cookie wafer? What’s my purpose in life? Why does my dog always crap on my area rugs and never the hardwood floor?

In an attempt to avoid the dramatic, I’ll just say that everything I knew to be good and true in the world came crashing down the moment I bit into that soulless chocolate stick. Everyone knows that the cookie wafer is the heart of the Kit Kat bar and the crunch is the heart’s beating.

What shenanigans are going on up there?

Nestle, please explain how, in today’s world of quality control, a travesty of this nature could have happened. Nothing in life is certain anymore.

I was forced to drink my Cabernet wine (from the Napa region) with a chocolate chip…a chocolate stinking chip. The reality of it all made me cry. I cried for my grandmother, for my childhood memories, for my wine glass that shattered into a thousand tiny pieces when I screamed “NOOOOO!”. Shattered like my heart…like my heart, Nestle.

If, and I said “IF”, I can go back to Kit Kats, do you promise me this won’t happen again? If so, please tell me the precautions you are taking to ensure this. Just like anyone in a relationship with an inanimate object, I need to feel safe. Nestle, make me feel safe again. “Give me a break”.

Sincerely,

Kim S

www.oneclassymotha.com

Veteran’s Day Debacle – ‘Mom of the Year’ goes to me.

Veterans Day

Ok, so this happened. On Monday morning I drove to the gym, put Ana in the childcare, and went to my spin class. It was a great workout (thanks Jeannie)!

Afterwards, I plopped myself down in the lobby to rest and catch up on some email. As I sat there, I heard my stomach rumble; boy was I hungry!  I headed over to the cafe to buy a late breakfast, sadly they were closed to prep for lunch. Ugh. So I had to drive all the way home to make my own damn eggs. How annoying.

When I walked in the house I saw Brian standing at the stove making…eggs. mmm.

Him: “Hi Ladies!”

Me: “It’s just me”

Him: “Where’s Ana?”

Me: “She’s at school, duh!”

Him: “Um, it’s Veteran’s Day. She doesn’t have school today.  Really, where is she?”

OH HOLY DAMN SHIT!

Suddenly my brain started twisting and spiraling like I had walked into a parallel universe, a universe where up was down and Adam Levine was ugly. Confusion…denial…realization…

So I did what any mediocre mother would do (after contemplating making breakfast anyway), l nervously laughed and slowly backed out of the door while saying “I’ll be right back” in a sing-song voice.

As I shut the car door I heard him yell “Are they going to charge us for this?”

Mom Shaming

When I returned home with her, Brian wanted to know how this could have happened.  I think he was trying to assess if I was losing my mind.  I spent the next ten minutes retracing my thought process.  I think it went like this:

-remember, Ana’s in childcare

-Collin has school but Ana doesn’t

-Collin has school

-has school

-school

-my ass hurts

-I need to go to the grocery store

-I should go before Ana gets out of school.

And BAM!!!  Kid forgotten. It’s just that easy, America.  I need to start writing notes on my body, or tucking a notepad under my boob.

Tips for Today – Cards & Crap

Tip #1 – Greeting Cards

A couple of weeks ago, I gave awesome advice to Valerie about creating her own greeting cards out of construction paper and markers (Never crayons. Crayons say “I don’t give a shit about you, that’s why I’m not writing with anything permanent”). Since then I have received emails from readers stating that they don’t possess the talent nor the desire to create their own clever and offensive verses. Pity. But for these people I have a terrific tip, Modification.

The first thing you need to do is to collect a cheap assortment of greeting cards.

Those black and white cards must of been on clearance.

Don’t spend a lot of money or thought on this. Simply gather any unused cards you can find, from rummage sales, dollar stores, or your grandmother’s basement, and place them in a *reusable grocery bag.

*I like to be Eco-friendly when it’s convenient.

Whenever you need a card I want you to close your eyes, reach into your bag, and have someone make a drum roll sound while you pull one out. It’s not unlike the “3 Strikes” game on the Prices Right (except no one’s holding a dildo shaped microphone and you won’t win a car).

Slightly off topic….here’s Brian and I this Halloween, as Bob Barker and a Prices Right contestant:

Spay and Neuter Your Spouse!

 

Now here’s the amazing part…I guarantee that any card you pull out can be modified to fit your card-giving situation. I give you the following examples:

A birthday card to my brother…

A birthday card to my Mom…or Mother in law

 

A birthday or valentines day card to my father-in-law. (admittedly a little icky)

 

Valentine’s Day card for my husband or boyfriend (just kidding Brian)

 

to my brother in law…

And don’t forget to make changes to the inside of the card as well. Here’s a birthday card brilliantly retro-fitted for Christmas…

Happy Birthday Baby Jesus!

 

 

 

If you follow me on Facebook or twitter you have already heard Tip #2. For those of you that don’t (why the hell don’t you?) here it is…

Dog walking tip:

If your dog craps and you forgot the poop bag, simply insert a large leaf into the poop by its stem. This serves as both a flag to alert other walkers and as an autumn celebration.

*I thought about taking a picture but I know that many people read my blog while eating. You’re welcome.

 

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