Hayden S.
Yelp
When my husband got us a reservation at Fratelli's Italian Steakhouse for our wedding anniversary, I figured it had been a long time and I could give some grace for the spot since I'd only ever tried it once before. I had a vague memory of many years ago that left me with the enduring impression of someone shoving my mouth full of glue, kicking me in the teeth then holding out their hand for a hundred bucks.
First off, the hostess seemed decidedly miffed to see customers. Which, fine, I've been there-I worked as a server for 6 years, 7.5 years in customer service call centers so I know what it is to have a bad day working with the public. But the first person to greet us was unfriendly and certainly set the tone for the rest of the experience.
We were 15 minutes early to our reservation, so maybe that contributed to the hostess' mood. We made it clear that we were happy to wait. But she did have the table ready already (plus!) so she whisked us over to our seats.
We start to get settled in, the chairs are comfy which is about the nicest thing I can say about the ambiance. They are extremely close together. The restaurant has squashed too many tables into the dining room. This had the consequence of it being very loud and chaotic. Not the vibe you want when you're paying a lot for a meal on a special occasion.
A team of two servers helped us-One was a young lady with a nose ring and a sunshiny disposition (probably the most pleasant part of our evening), the other was a grumpy guy with a beard who seemed overwhelmed. They got us our drinks, brought us bread and herbed olive oil (yum), got our orders, brought out our salad (not bad) and kept an eye out for refills. Great!
Then I have to pee (a habit of mine) and so I went to the ladies room. The TP dispenser is not only broken but has been for some time and it looks like they tried to "fix" it with duct tape. "Gee, I hope this isn't foreshadowing of dinner to come!"
It was.
I get back and we received our food. My husband had ordered, as one does at a steakhouse, a steak. I ordered, as one does at a place that proclaims itself as Italian, a pasta-To be exact, I got the penne with vodka sauce (about nineteen dollars) and because it was a special occasion, I also got a lobster tail (a thirty dollar upcharge.) How silly of me!
My husband's dinner looked good! Steak looked the right temperature, brussel sprouts looked crispy and blackened. I tried both and they were great.
My pasta was a different story. "Why would you get pasta at a steakhouse?" First of all, if you have something on your menu that's bad, why is it there? Second of all, this is an Italian restaurant which comes with expectations of what is done well there-Pasta should be a safe bet.
It was not.
The pasta was a swollen, gummy opaque mess covered in a cold, underseasoned pink sauce. The lobster was tasty although the size of it made me genuinely question if I was being punked. I have NEVER seen a lobster tail so small-Hand to God, the meat of it had to be a quarter of an inch thick and no more than two ounces. I wondered, insanely, to myself if the restaurant had been shaving off the underside of their lobster tails to toss into the bisque and ravioli. I was, and obviously still am, pissed off.
So I politely caught the attention of our male server. I told him that the dish was cold and the pasta was overcooked. He simply looked at me with a resigned expression and a clipped "Ooh-kay," he snatched up the plate, presumably to have the kitchen remake it.
After only about five minutes, the plate of goo reappeared, carried by our long-suffering waiter. Curiously, it hadn't been long enough time for the pasta to be remade but long enough to be reheated. He turned to start to leave when he chuckled dryly, "Wait, I better stay here. Is the food OK?" I took a bite and replied that at least it was hot. This seemed good enough to him. He hurried off to one of his many other tables.
I thought about asking for a manager but with how the rest of my experience had been, I was worried this only would have just made things even worse. No use beating a dead horse. Or anniversary.
When you go to a fine dining restaurant or, in this case, a fine dining Italian steakhouse, there is a certain level of quality food, service, and ambience expected to justify the price. You're paying for an experience. Which I guess, were I a masochist, I would consider this experience well worth the price of admission. But since my Friday nights usually don't include being hooked by the nipples to jumper cables and a car battery, I would not consider the experience to be pleasant nor the prices reasonable.
I'm not saying "do better," clearly you're making money-the place was packed. I'm just saying, if you take pride in the quality of the experience that you offer, maybe consider it. Chili's for the Bermuda Run crowd.