HEY! YO! HEY YOU! DUUUDE!

In general, I don’t like to publicly dump on another restaurant, but seriously, how many people actually read this blog? 
Honestly, aside from maybe being overcritical at times, I fear that if I “dog” another establishment, it’s name being Karma, I may just get bitten in the ass when “my people” fall short.

But here goes—I’ve had the occasion to go  to Boston twice in the past two weeks for a couple of meals, and have been underwhelmed both times.  You want a reason to stay close to home for dinner?  (i.e. Moonstones and Cobblestones)  Here’s a couple-

Thursday night—Grill 23.  My friend, and father-in-law, and I (that’s two people in total—him, and I) like to occasionally pick a place to get a steak.  We compare.  Most often it is he, not me, that says: “Cobblestones is still better.”  Now, there is no doubt, that he likes me—and supports us wholeheartedly.  But if you know Big Jim Moynihan (aka Mr. Mo, Red) you know two things, at least-

1.       When he says anything, he never says anything he doesn’t mean,

and

2.       He is a self-proclaimed “Fussy-bugger”

Furthermore, in knowing him for more than 26 years now, I have come to know that he has a sharp, and distinct, palate for quality.  (Like his daughter, my wife, GOOD LUCK giving either of them a cheap glass of wine!)

So, it was his choice this time—and he suggested that we return–after a number of years, to Grill 23.  We won’t be doing that again anytime soon.

Bottom line?  If you are going to charge me $49 damn dollars for a steak, it absolutely, positively canNOT be BOTH tough, and off-flavored.  And that was the case for both of our steaks—two different selections.  He, the dry aged sirloin, and me, the bone-in sirloin.  Charging a ton of money is a double-edged sword.  And we needed a sword to cut those puppies.

 That was last week, and I just finished chewing.

 Fast forward to Sunday—3 days later—and Kathy and I celebrated 26 years a couple of days earlier per usual, as the restaurants were poised to serve over 400 people on Valentine’s Day and I insisted on being there so staff can ask me to “please move out of the way.”

 Before the show that Kathy scored tickets to—The Soweto Gospel Choir (amayyyzing) at Symphony Hall, and a visit to college daughter #3 at Emmanuel, we took in brunch at Brasserie Jo.  But just barely.

 I say “barely”, because when we answered “No” to the French hostess when she asked “Deed you make ress-er-vay-SHONES?”  we stood there and watched her wrestle with how she could possibly fit us into the ½ empty dining room.  After scrunching her face, frowning and struggling for 3 or 4 minutes, she finally sat us at the 1^st of 10 empty tables (which never filled), immediately behind her—in the window overlooking Huntington Ave.  Phsew, that was a close one.  We almost had to choose from another of 100 Boston restaurants!

 And, though the food at Brasserie Jo was great—here is a tip to any server who ever complains about a guest waving their arms and/or shouting-whistling-tossing rolls to get attention…What’s the tip? 

NOTICE YOUR CUSTOMER EACH AND EVERY TIME YOU ARE CLOSE BY SO THEY DON’T NEED TO CALL FOR YOUR ATTENTION!!  (The best servers make sure you never have to ask for anything–good servers keep an eye on you for when you DO need something.  And then there was this guy.)

Twice in 10 minutes before our meal, when we wanted to order something, our waiter visited the table next to us—with his back to us—and twice he walked straight away, without turning his head the 90 degrees that it would have taken to notice if we needed:

1.       More coffee

2.       To order an appetizer

3.       CPR

I wondered whether the hostess whispered to him that we were of the un-reserved class of people that day.  “Dogs”, perhaps, is was what she said.  “We wheel show hugh to mek ress-er-vay-SHONES in zee future”