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Sunday, October 25, 2009

Restaurant Luck

I'm still eagerly awaiting some contact from the manager of the Binion's Ranch Butterknife Steakhouse. It's all I think of the last hour or two on the Size 7 grommet line at N.A.V.

 I pick up Mrs. Flusher from the Administration complex (where she works in the estimatin' department) and floor it, sometimes before she has even gotten the door closed.

I tramp up to the Win Simulator 3000 still wearing my coveralls and grommet grease stained boots and check my email, fully expecting the promised discussion with the manager.

Day after day after day I come up empty eyeballed.

I am really starting to think ill thoughts about the way the venerable Butterknife Steakhouse is being shepherded into mediocrity.

On our 14 day trip to Vegas recently, we ate quite often. In fact, most days, we ate multiple times per day. Sometimes as many as 3 meals. (Vegas can mess with your schedule dramatically. One day we found ourselves pounding the drinks back fairly early in the morning. The day's plan went to hell and much, much later after hours of casino hopping and gambling, we found ourselves consuming a meal before heading to bed. And the question came up, "Did we eat the right number of meals today?")

Most of the meals we ate were as ordered and delicious.

But for some reason, the last couple of days, I was in some weird restaurant streak where nothing went right.

I hate to complain, which is why I do a very thorough job of it, so as not to have to go back and re-complain. So I'm going to note down here another problem meal I had, the day after the Binions Ranch Butterknife Steakhouse Fiasco.

We had a comp at Magnolias for two free entrees. We got set up and each ordered the New York Steak, medium rare.

Four Queens Fremont Street Experience
The Eight Nipples
Salad came, which we ate, and then our meals.

Mrs. Flusher's was perfectly cooked.

I dressed my potato with sour cream and munched some down, and then tried the steak. And mine was cooked perfectly, if you like Well Done Armageddon Inferno Heart Of The Sun Cooked Till It Is Gray steak.

The waitress was very apologetic and took it back to the kitchen. She left me the potato so I could pick at it.

By the time my replacement arrived, Mrs. Flusher was done consuming her perfectly prepared beef.

I cut into mine and ate a bite. It was certainly not Well Done Armageddon. It was quite rare actually.

Very rare indeed.

I sliced the top bit off and it looked like a flesh wound.

This steak was what you'd call blue. Seared on the outside and that's it. I couldn't eat it.

I told the waitress and she said, okay I'll go speak to them. And she did. And it was taken off our bill.

Now, you'll recall that we were on a comp anyway, so I wasn't going to have to pay for the steak as it was. I went up to the front and talked to the woman running the show.

She didn't seem to get it and halfway through my explanation, turned to the cashier and said, "Charge him for a salad and half a baked potato. He ate half a baked potato."

Has the restaurant world gone mad? Why was I being punished in my pursuit of culinary satisfaction???

The woman simply would not listen to reason. She cut me off and got on the phone. I assumed she was summoning someone higher up. She hung up the blower and spun on her heel (three times around) and waltzed off without saying anything further. Worse, the music playing was a rhumba, not a waltz.

So, fairly quickly, Donna showed up and introduced herself.

She said, "Hello. I am Donna" which I thought was quite appropriate.

I said, "Hello. I am Flusher."

I explained the sitch and after a couple of go-rounds she got it.

She said, "I'll write you a comp for the price of the steak, $15.95, for tomorrow."

That was satisfactory and I thanked this 'Donna' - Queen Manager of the Restaurant of the Amazon.

I decided I was being punished by the gambling gods for doing so poorly to that point and my dinner ended there - a comped salad and half a baked potato.

We went to the room and I made do for the night. (Attentive readers of this blog will note that this self-sacrifice led to a 'Stick it to the Golden Nugget for cutting our room offers Royal Freaking Flush'.)

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