Melody S.
Google
How does a chef silently tell you, “Please never come back”?
Easy. He serves you a piece of salmon so dry it could be used as a building material — centered on a plate so empty it echoes. No garnish, no olive oil, no veggies, not even a lonely sprig of parsley trying to make eye contact. Just salmon. Dry. Alone. Like it’s being punished.
I have Celiac disease AND a soy allergy (the soy part is new — surprise!). I always let the staff know, and usually the chef sends out a few safe options. This time? Just salmon. Fine, I asked for it medium.
My husband ordered pasta with extra sauce on the side. What he got was pasta in sauce. Like, in it. Like, “Did we order soup?” levels of sauce.
Meanwhile, I’m chewing through drywall disguised as fish, trying not to cry. I asked for olive oil to help it slide down — the server brought it, probably out of pity. I drizzled it like I was trying to revive a mummy.
We clearly asked for too much. I wanted safe food. My husband wanted sauce control. The chef wanted us gone.
We won’t be going back to Trattoria. I think the salmon was his way of saying goodbye.
