Sunday, June 21, 2009

Three strikes...

Years ago we discovered a little cafe not too far from home (relatively speaking) that did a reasonable Sunday lunch. So any Sunday (and sometimes Saturday) that we got bored or needed a reason to go somewhere we took to heading there. And while reasonably infrequent (no one would have called us regulars) we were there often enough to figure we knew the place. This is a little cafe, of the type doing pies, sandwiches and the odd fry up on demand, not a resturant.

I don't know that the ownership has changed recently - the staff have but staff come and go anyway - or whether it is just with me that it has gone bad, but I'm not having fun in the place in recent times.

The first was a long black coffee that showed up as a flat white complete with a debate about what I had ordered. I'm allergic to cows milk - the words flat white, latte, moccachino, banana milkshake, or any other milk containing beverage just don't come naturally to me. I know I said long black. Anyway they got me a long black and my sense of rightness in the world was restored.

The second was the day husband ordered a big breakfast and I ordered a panini toasted. His bacon eggs hashbrowns sausages and tomatoes had been in front of him five minutes when I went and asked how my panini was. 'Yes yes it's coming' the cashier said, just avoiding a roll of her eyes at my impatience. Ten minutes later it arrived, and I am fairly convinced that the poor panini had been in the sandwich press for 20 minutes. It was burnt black on the outside and was solid on the inside. Why they put it on a plate and put a salad beside it was beyond me. It wasn't edible obviously. A passing table clearer noted my disgruntled levering open of the bread and offered to get me another one and when I declined on the grounds that I wasn't willing to wait any longer I was given a refund. So they were forgiven that time.

Today we went again. And I ordered seafood chowder. Which took 30 minutes to arrive. Husband again got a plate of cooked stuff put in front of him. People who came in ten minutes after me got plates of fish and chips while I waited. They were into the minutes grace before I stood up and asked for my money back when they delivered the meal. It was actually the best seafood chowder I've had in a long time but that doesn't negate the fact that it should have taken no more than a few minutes to prepare and the sunday lunch experience isn't nearly as much fun when you first spend time watching your lunch companion eat, and then they get to watch you eat.

I think we will be finding another Sunday lunch place.

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