A neighborhood standby that for several years I've shied away from. Now I know why. As I well remember, the noise level is unacceptable. The acoustics are not good to begin with, but the staff compounds the problem by playing The Clash (a fine band) and Cake (also fun, but not when I'm trying to hear and chew at the same time).
I was impressed by the waitress's wine help. I asked for something red, dry, not too "fruit-forward" (her words) to go with my fish. She had a couple ideas, and I don't think she was faking it. The one I chose didn't appeal to me, unfortunately, but I'll let that slide. I'm no expert.
For a comfort joint, the food was lackluster. Chili-crusted mahi on corn 'n' black bean cakes: nice idea. Tiny portion. Too fussy and kind of bland. The snow peas on the side were cold. Ugh. The Fanch's steak was undercooked; it happens. She sent it back with no protest from the waitress. She was the best part of the meal.
Another complaint, which is no fault of Q, per se, more just a cranky rant in general: Mashed potatoes are the culinary equivalent of adults talking about their favorite cartoons. Grow up, for God's sake. For $50, the Fanch and I walked away a little dyspeptic.
I haven't had a good restaurant meal in a while, and I grow weary.
