Back and Rarin’ to Rant
What can I say?
Nothing gets the creative fires burning quite like a despicable, horrible, terrible, no good very bad restaurant experience. So I’m back, for one reason and one reason only.
It’s time for a good ole’ therapeutic rant.
I refer to therapy because I might go looking for one to recover from the most horrible night out to dinner in years. One caveat to this is that the company could not have been more wonderful.
Hear ye, hear ye. I am instituting a house-wide boycott of Salsa’s. I take back every complimentary, kind, overexcited word I ever wrote about Salsa’s. I went to Salsa’s on Friday, for the first time in over a year, and I will NEVER go back. Not as long as I’m paying, anyway.
Caipirinhas and mojitos looked pretty, but no one in our party detected rum within the sugary cocktails. With a hefty charge of $7 for the former and $8 for the latter, this sober diner remained nonplussed.
We order a salsa trio, at $9 for 3 options, to share between four people. The trio arrived, a pineapple, a guacamole, and a roasted tomato and almond sauce. Back in happier times, Salsa’s used to offer a hefty number of chips and separate their salsas with ramekins. Last Friday, the salsas came smushed together in a nebulous mass, with a meager ring of oversized, not-for-dipping chips. The salsas all tasted just fine, but were quickly pushed towards one another until rendered indefinable.
I have sung the praises and glories of Salsa’s inventive menu for years. How many tourists have I pointed toward their overly-hyped direction? There was a time when one could open a giant empanada and find a treasure box of sweet pumpkin, velvety goat cheese, rainbow chard, wild boar, pungent mushroom, all delicately spiced with an inspired, fruity salsa. The tastes seemed worlds apart, but came together in the mouth like a boys choir of chaotic perfection. That was then.
On this fateful night, I ordered the molcajete. What came to the table was a gargantuan stone bowl of thin soup. Tossed into the soup were some random squash, a carrot slice or two, and some other stock soup vegetables. Plus, slices of taut, underspiced steak. I was unable to find any of the mole sauce that the menu had advertised. Their side of rice proved equally as bland, and as I chewed painfully, I recalled a past meals, when the rice burst forth flavors of the carribean, and beans, redolent of cumin and tradition, came alongside a few pert plaintain slices.
All this might, maybe, perhaps have been forgiven, but to top it all off, our table service lacked a sense of order. During the 55 minute wait which we were told would be 20-25, we tried to order drinks. My partner-in-dine was repeatedly ignored, then told our drink order had been lost 3 times. By the time we were seated, we were thirsty, hungry, hot, and ready for some apologies. This is no way to start a meal. Not to mention (but let’s mention it) standing water in the bathroom begs an inquiry into their most recent health inspection.
I know I won’t win any popularity points with this rant, but after a stomachache and $70 I won’t ever get back, it had to be said. Salsa’s ain’t what it used to be, and though business was obviously booming all weekend, this is one customer who won’t be back.