Ugh! I want to LOVE this place. . . but:\n\nThis weekend my wife and I went out to eat here for my birthday. I liked the place, having gone there with my Dad a few weeks ago, and wanted her to get to try it. The plus side is, she really liked the food. I did too. . . sorta (explanation follows). \n\nThey were out of a few things, but I decided pumpkin pierogies sounded awesome and different. She got steak. . . rare. . . as usual. We got mussels for an appetizer and the sauce was fantastic! I always want to drink what's left as soup, but I didn't, cuz I'm klassy. \n\nThey brought out my wife's steak (cooked just the way she likes it, bleeding as if stabbed) and chose that moment to inform me that they were out of the pumpkin pierogies. Now I'm very easy going when I dine out. I'm mostly just excited to have someone cook and clean up and try new things. But if you're out of something the time to inform them is not as you bring the other person her supper. I stared blankly at the waiter (who seemed sort of \"new\") and said, \"And you're telling me this now?\" \n\nI eventually settled for skillet-seared scallops with bacon on honey-siracha polenta. They were good, if somewhat over-sweet, and we were going to cap the evening with coffee. . . but they were out of it, so we settled for their version of a molten chocolate cake. After a few minutes they stopped over to the table to inform us they were out of that as well. At that point it seemed appropriate to say, \"we'll take our check now\". \n\nAlthough the owner, and both waiters came to the table to apologize for effing up my dinner so spectacularly, when the final check came, there was no \"hey, sorry about your dinner, we took one of your cocktails off the check\" sort of gesture, and I admit I was thinking they would do that. Not that I expect it, or even ask for it when it's not given (unless it's a total debacle) but it's still something that a \"good\" gastropub should do. \n\nI was mostly disappointed because I really wanted my wife to have a good experience there so I could convince her to go back, and it was my special magical birthday week dinner. . . and they botched it. . . so I tucked my birthday tail between my legs and we went home.
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