D.O.B. 111. They have been open for a few months or so, but NO EXCUSES, people! This establishment went WELL beyond the AVOID this AT ALL COSTS kind of notice.
Let me try to explain....
First, we approached the door and "BYOB" was written on a piece of paper on the front (of the door), along with a smaller scribbled "cash only" note... handwritten with that East Village who-cares-about-our-signage-appeal.
Whatev. I like the East Village. Embrace the quirkiness. Plus, I don't need alcohol - I'll get a different beverage tonight. NBFD.
We had a reservation and were on time. Yet, we all noticed that when we walked in the door, people were crowded around -looking for guidance. ONE female was supposed to be the hostess -yet she was also a server. And not a friendly or happy employee, either. She had issues that were beyond a mere PMS moment. She was just a first class b!tch. Yes, that is what I said.
It's not often that I meet someone with zero service experience. Oh wait. I may have read about this somewhere... I think guards at Dachau may have had the same mannerisms. Yep. That's it. Bingo.
After 3 kind requests for TAP WATER, we were told, "Sorry, we just don't have enough glasses. We've only been open for a small time, and we're not stocked to give all customers water." She then huffed and puffed away, as if we were being pains in the asses for expecting a drink of ANY sort, much less water. We must have been out of our minds.
Are you EFFING kidding me?
Wait... it gets better. In a "better" means "WAAAAY worse" kind of way.
After Miss Huffy the Beotch made her Gestapo announcement that there would be no water for us, the gentlemen at our table immediately departed for the kosher bodega across the street to purchase bottled water for our table. (I really fell in love with one of them. He's my hero. And my waterboy. God bless him.)
While waiting for them to return, the rest of us perused the menu. I reminded myself that the chef was supposed to offer some haute Vietnamese-French goodness on a plate. I was still hopeful. Just parched. Maybe it was the 100 degree weather that made me thirsty. My bad.
The guys returned with super-sized water bottles for each of us. Life would be fine. Or so we fooled ourselves into believing.
We seriously ordered a large sampling off the menu thinking we would get redemption. We were HUNGRY! We wanted to sample. Scallops, soft shell crab, quail satay, filet mignon, beef carpaccio, pork belly, black cod and fried rice cakes.... Oh the possibilities.
Scallops had SHELL pieces still on them. POORLY prepared and cleaned. The crab was just deep fried with little flavor, quail was swimming in a heavy peanut sauce (ewww!), filet mignon was overcooked and dry, beef carpaccio was unbalanced with its overdone spices, pork belly was fatty and like eating a wet sponge, black cod was just a bad, uncooked piece (and I like raw), plus the rice cakes just did not do it either. Flavorless and a whole lot of WTF glances went around our table. It was a mutual feeling of, "Let's get the HELL out of this place. Now. RIGHT NOW."
We begged and pleaded for the bill several times -because Miss Nazi Genius (aka Hostess from Hell) couldn't get her act straight.
I'm not kidding. The table next to us alerted her to several billing errors. Apparently, the prices in the computer differ from the menu - as in, the billed prices are HIGHER than the menu prices. If a customer doesn't check, OH WELL. And if you call her out on the obvious errors, she yells that she can't HELP it. She blames everything on the computer. When the customers look at her in horror, she continues to loudly announce that it's not her fault but she will take it out of her TIPS... The restaurant is silent. And scared. (BTW - if you think I would even tip her fifty cents!?? M-F'er puh-leeeeez!) I'm sure she sends money to the Communists Against Humanity Fund anyway....
Sooooooo.....after sampling a ton of the shite that Chef Michael Bao Huynh sent out, drinking our own BYOW and waiting relentlessly for our overpriced bill that almost never came, I was glad to get out of there without purging my stomach's contents.
DOB 111: Avoid. Avoid. Avoid.
In the words of our table neighbors, "Wonder what might be in that space in a few months?"
Survival of the fittest will surely kick this place out of it's rat hole it's in... and Frau Verbissener will have to get another job at Child and Family Services or something.
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