Brandon T.
Yelp
I am NOT a huge fan of when people write reviews without eating at an establishment, but even so, I think it's important to put my two cents in.
I am very disappointed that I never got to try their food, as I was refused service here twice in the past few days. I am a huge fan of cheap eats, greasy food, and anything with loads of cheese. While on vacation in Madrid, I saw this place right around the corner from where my wife and I were staying. My wife has several back conditions that occasionally render her more or less immobile. We have to travel with a wheelchair for such occasions. After long days of sightseeing, sometimes she just needs to crash at our home base while I bring home dinner. "Not a problem," thought I, "There's an awesome sandwich and croqueta joint just a stone's throw away!"
I walk in, and order the Zapatillo and 5 croquetas. The owner (I presume), nods as he takes my order, but things turn sour when I utter the forbidden words: To go. Suddenly, his expression turns as if I've spit in his face. He more or less ushers me out the door.
Bummer. I guess they don't have take-out boxes.
A few nights later, I still really want to try this place. My wife is tired after a day trip in Seville in 102 degree weather, but we both arrive at Melo's with eagerness and excitement... Only to find the entire place packed like a sardine can full of drunken diners. Not an inch of counter space available, nor a table to be seen. My wife needs to sit before her legs fall off, so I usher her back home.
I return to Melo's alone, determined to give them my money in exchange for delicious morsels. This time, I come armed with a plate and plastic bag, to take my order to go.
I elbow my way through the drunken crowd, dodging beer puddles, slowly working my way to the counter. I end up having to literally lean over a woman at the bar in order to be seen by the owner. After intently staring him down for several minutes, he finally approaches me to take my order. I order, and he shouts my order to the kitchen. Then, I try to hand him my money, and something clicks in his brain. I suppose he made the connection that I wasn't going to eat there and pay after, and he mentions they don't do take away. I eagerly produce my own bag and plate to show that I came prepared, and that we could make this work. He shakes his head in disdain and waves me off.
Now, people. I can stand terrible service if it means great food. I can stand hole-in-the-wall joints, grumpy waiters, slow service, less than hot food, and less than cold drinks if the food is good and I'm getting a good deal. What I cannot stand for is being treated poorly on top of being refused service. I still want to eat their food, but I cannot in good conscience offer them either my patronage or money.
Thank you, and goodnight.