Trevor A.
Yelp
Recently, some friends and I visited The Expat, and after an evening filled with highs and the occasional perplexing low, I can say I recommend it--enthusiastically, in fact. That said, a few easily fixable quirks keep it from being one of my favorite restaurants in town. Fix those, and I'll gladly become a regular.
First, the appetizers: we started with the Roman artichoke, burrata, and a cheeseboard - all great. The duck? Exceptional--definitely in the top two or three of my life. At this point, I was mentally composing sonnets to the chef.
Unfortunately, my friends weren't so lucky. They ordered the carbonara, a dish meant to cradle you in its rich, creamy embrace. Instead, they were served a plate of dry pasta, as though someone had forgotten the egg yolks and simply hoped no one would notice. The only thing this carbonara cradled was my friends' need for several glasses of water to choke it down. We begged for oil, butter--anything to give this poor dish a fighting chance to slide down our throats without incident. The server offered to take it off the bill and tried to make it right by bringing extra butter and cheese to the table. IMHO, the appropriate way to handle it is to have the manager come, apologize, and have everyone's remade appropriately by the head chef instead of whatever apprentice they had doing it rather than leaving it to the server to figure out. That's not her job- that's the owner/chef's job.
Then, there was the final puzzle: the restaurant's new "no tipping" policy. Now, in theory, I have no problem with this. In fact, I welcome it, particularly since our server was fantastic. But it's the execution that left me feeling like I'd wandered into an economics seminar instead of a nice Italian meal. First, they added a 20% gratuity--fine, that's expected and more than acceptable. But then they tacked on an additional 5% "service fee." Isn't that what the 20% gratuity is for? I felt as though I'd been thrust into a financial riddle.
And just when I thought I had it all figured out, there was another 3% charge, this time for health insurance (you have the option of telling the server you want that 3% taken off- and wish them well on their upcoming MRI). I have no issue with paying for people's health care--I like to imagine a world where everyone has access to a doctor and good pasta--but by this point, 28% of our bill was going toward something other than food. Not necessarily unreasonable, but why not just fold it into the price of the dishes? Mark them up appropriately, slap on a "this-is-what-it-costs" price tag, and call it a day. The $11 artichokes? They're $14. Everyone's happy. Instead, we were left scratching our heads, not because we minded paying, but because we didn't understand why it needed to be this complicated.
With just a few adjustments, The Expat could easily become a favorite. For now, I'll keep going--for the duck, of course--and maybe bring my own oil for the carbonara.