Not too long ago, a place called the Turnrow opened up nearby. I tried it once and wasn’t at all impressed (the menu is extremely limited if you don’t eat fried food, burgers, or sausage), but everyone else seemed to like it, so we ended up going there for dinner.
There were only two other tables, but we had to wait a good thirty-five minutes for our food. My oysters were gritty, briny, and smelled fishy. Oh, and I only got four of them… for $10.99.
My uncle ordered the redfish cooked medium — this is the south, where some people like their fish barely done, so you have to specify — and he received the salmon… nearly raw.
He told our waiter, who was horrified and apologized profusely. He said he would have the manager take it off our bill and disappeared into the kitchen. When he returned, he looked even more horrified.
The manager said we would be charged for the redfish, not the more expensive salmon, or that the kitchen would make the redfish and take the salmon back.
We had a to-go order for my aunt, and it was almost 10 at night by this point, so he just ate the salmon and sucked it up. As he was paying the bill, someone (probably the manager; how else would she have known about the salmon-redfish problem?) walked by and chirped, “That just gives you a reason to come back and try the redfish!”
Are you kidding me?!
My uncle said, “We’ll see.”
Turnrow, let me translate that for you: your oysters suck, your management sucks, your kitchen staff sucks, and “we’ll see” means “never again.”