A Foodie Experience to Remember

This past weekend my boyfriend suddenly decided that a trip to Ohio to visit my family would be a good idea. This was probably prompted by my incessant sobbing over my upcoming oral exam. So, within an hour of having this idea we had packed up and left. But this post is not about the 16 hours of driving we did so that I could spend 24 hours with my family. No, this is about the far more interesting restaurant experience we all had.

My parents have recently purchased a new house. Okay, they don't have the title yet, but they're this close to being the owners. So they took me, my boyfriend, my brother and his family to see the new property. Afterwards, we wanted to have some dinner together, so we headed into the tiny town that is near there. Our options being a take-out pizza joint, Subway, and a family restaurant, we chose the family restaurant. This seemed especially fitting since we are a family.

Although it was Saturday evening, all of the restaurant operations were conducted by a sixteen-year-old waitress and some guy cooking in the back. This was not a problem, as we were the only customers there. Our first indication that something was amiss was that our questions of "What is the fish of the day?" and "How big is a medium pizza?" stumped our waitress. After consultation with the guy in the back, she reported the answers, "Cod" and "Fourteen. Line. Line." (Think about that for a minute.)

She took our orders after my father had fetched her and told her we were ready (maybe she was already scared of us). After fifteen minutes, my brother and father received their bacon cheeseburgers. After they pointed out that the burgers were lacking the bacon and cheese, those orders were whisked back. We sent my sister-in-law's food back when we discovered that the center of her deep-fried fish was still ice-cold.

At this point, when three orders have already come out, the waitress comes back and announces that they can't make my mother's order because they can't find the shrimp. My mother decides just to eat off of the other entrees, which is good, because the waitress forgets for the next fifteen minutes to come take a new order. This is because she is announcing to my boyfriend that they can't find the garlic butter to make his pizza. After he decides on a substitution of tomato sauce, they make it and bring it out. It appears distinctly smaller than 14". My father whips out his ever-ready tape measure, and, sure enough, it is 10". We suggest that the waitress only charge us for a small one, but in the end it didn't much matter, because she took off fully one-third of the check for "prep errors." Oh, and I forgot to mention that all three side salads were frozen.

I can vouch that the beer was good, although when we asked for the darkest beer they had, they presented us with Belgian white ales. And, asked if they has foreign beers, they recommended Labatt. Which technically is foreign, even if it is Canada's Budweiser.

Except for the fact that most of the food was awful, we actually had a terrific time. It was the most amazing restaurant experience I have ever had. And, in the end, my brother loved his burger and announced that he would be back.