While our daughter Randie was in New York City eating at
some fine Italian dining establishments that I’m sure were not frequent meeting
places for the Big Apple’s criminal elite, Andrea and I decided to venture
forth from our Fortress of Ineptitude to seek some fine Italian dining for
ourselves.
Instead we went to Olive Garden.
<RIM SHOT!>
OK, I know, Olive Garden gets ragged on a lot by snobbish
foodies which makes it an easy target. I can honestly say I have never had bad food at Olive Garden.
However, I can't honestly say I've had great food at Olive Garden. But what do I know from good food and great food?
Last week, I had chicken parmesan. The chicken breasts were tender with a tasty breaded crust. The spaghetti was tender with an appropriate amount of sauce.
I'd ordered chicken parmesan at a different, local restaurant about a month ago where the spaghetti was swimming in sauce which was also too salty. So in this case, I can judge my chicken parmesan experience at Olive Garden was superior.
What was not superior was the dining atmosphere.
I remember dining at Olive Garden as a kind of upscale occasion. Not "I need to wear a tuxedo and drop a $100 on a bottle of wine" kind of upscale. Still, you put on a nice pair of pants, a good shirt and leave the babies at home.
Saturday night was more like dining at a cafeteria with children screaming and a lot of people whose fashion sense is dictated by which sweat pants are the cleanest.
Andrea and I were seated next to a long table filled with the loudest people on the planet. Which required me to be a bit louder to be heard by our waitress.
MY WIFE WOULD LIKE A GLASS OF CHARDANAY AND I WOULD LIKE A GLASS OF THE CALVIT PINOT NOIR FROM ITALY!
Yeah, that would sound more sophisticated if it wasn't in all caps.
Our waitress, God bless her, took good care of us, despite also being on call for the long table filled with the loudest people on the planet. I was so impressed with her, I tipped her 25% instead of 20%.
It's not her fault that Olive Garden is now apparently fair game for barn dwelling barbarians.
Yeah, I know I sound very snobbish. Perhaps I should climb down from my snooty pretentious high horse.
It is, after all, just Olive Garden.
However, I can't honestly say I've had great food at Olive Garden. But what do I know from good food and great food?
Last week, I had chicken parmesan. The chicken breasts were tender with a tasty breaded crust. The spaghetti was tender with an appropriate amount of sauce.
I'd ordered chicken parmesan at a different, local restaurant about a month ago where the spaghetti was swimming in sauce which was also too salty. So in this case, I can judge my chicken parmesan experience at Olive Garden was superior.
What was not superior was the dining atmosphere.
I remember dining at Olive Garden as a kind of upscale occasion. Not "I need to wear a tuxedo and drop a $100 on a bottle of wine" kind of upscale. Still, you put on a nice pair of pants, a good shirt and leave the babies at home.
Saturday night was more like dining at a cafeteria with children screaming and a lot of people whose fashion sense is dictated by which sweat pants are the cleanest.
Andrea and I were seated next to a long table filled with the loudest people on the planet. Which required me to be a bit louder to be heard by our waitress.
MY WIFE WOULD LIKE A GLASS OF CHARDANAY AND I WOULD LIKE A GLASS OF THE CALVIT PINOT NOIR FROM ITALY!
Yeah, that would sound more sophisticated if it wasn't in all caps.
Our waitress, God bless her, took good care of us, despite also being on call for the long table filled with the loudest people on the planet. I was so impressed with her, I tipped her 25% instead of 20%.
It's not her fault that Olive Garden is now apparently fair game for barn dwelling barbarians.
Yeah, I know I sound very snobbish. Perhaps I should climb down from my snooty pretentious high horse.
It is, after all, just Olive Garden.
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