Oh No, AMERICANO!

By: Mark R. Mackert      

 

Long before The Food Fairy started sharing extraordinary insights about edibles, we had dinner at Americano, Original Great Lakes Bistro, at One Bratenahl Place. Four, count ‘em, four times in all. Because of its convenience, we hoped it would be the last in the endless line of restaurants to open, then close, in this location (a very long story).  We really hoped it would succeed; so accessible, on the lake, and with ample free parking.

It seemed the right mix with creative young chef, Vytauras Sasnauskus, who is clearly committed to all things artisanal. All condiments, pickles, sauces and breads are crafted in house (even the ketchup for chrissakes). He cures his own meats and creates sensational sausages. We mused that what the menu lacked in restraint and nuance might come with experience and maturity. 

Despite this glowing potential, the food is too frequently several strong flavors competing for attention in a single dish, like dueling divas in a bitch brawl for center stage. But who can talk seriously about the menu? The Food Fairy is stuck at the same question he first asked a year ago:

“Who do you have to fuck to get decent service in this place?”

The food can be fabulous and the kitchen creativity pure genius, but lack of attention to service will kill a restaurant. I was told the goal at Americano is to provide a casual dining experience in a formerly piss-elegant space. Casual shouldn’t translate as careless, clumsy and rude.

On the first visit, I complained to front-of-the-house partner, Cole Davis, who verbally acknowledged the lapses in service, but blamed the youth and inexperience of new hires. Things like water glasses removed during dessert (not refilled, just removed), forgotten requests (“You didn’t want coffee, did you?”), and phantom flatware (duh!) were viewed as trifles to be corrected.  We were assured that veteran servers who were all off that night  (say what?) would be on deck for our next visit.

A phoned reservation preceded another visit: dinner, Saturday, 9 p.m., table for two. We were prompt, but the hostess station is usually vacant, so being seated can take a while. Finally our young server (nary a promised pro in sight) arrived tableside and said verbatim, “Guys, let me cut right to the chase, the kitchen is closing soon and you’re my last table.” Why didn’t he just tell us to leave? Who the hell took the reservation for 9 p.m. without hesitation? Why do they list a 10 p.m. closing in print and online? Now brace yourselves! Dinner went downhill from there with the server saying he’d have some bread “dropped” at our table (isn’t that an appetizing thought – droppings on the table?) and some bizarre story about a shortage of chicken. Is it being rationed? This same yahoo insisted that a potato, leek, wild mushroom cream soup, served hot, was vichyssoise. You really don’t want to hear the rest.

So The Food Fairy did the appropriate thing, as the PD’s Joe Crea once advised:  Wait until the smoke stops coming out of your ears, (it took a week), sit down and write the restaurant a calm and well-documented letter detailing date, time, specific issues and signed with your name, address, phone number and email address. Yeah, we did exactly that on March 24, 2009. To date there’s been no reply, no phone call, no email.

The Food Fairy has been called a lot of things (yeah, don’t get me started!), but unfair isn’t one of them.  So with my partner in tow, metaphorically kicking and screaming, we ventured back to Americano (visit #4) on the off chance they’d gotten their act together. This time The Food Fairy was drawn into a pissing contest with one of their more experienced servers. In response to, “But I didn’t order calamari.”  She said, “Yeah, you did!” It was replaced, but WTF? One of the clueless young staff asked if we had been told about the specials. “No,” we said in rapt anticipation. She offered, “Oh, your server better tell you. I’m not very good at it.” Huh? Was there some point in asking us if she had no intention of telling us? You can’t make this stuff up! 

Not once in four visits was anyone at the hostess station when we left to ask if everything was satisfactory; to thank us for coming to Americano; or at a minimum simply say goodnight. That, boys and girls, screams “attitude” and that, to paraphrase Martha Stewart, is not a good thing.

Americano, now repeat after me:

1.Fabulous food doesn’t stand a chance without good service.

2.Ignore customer comments/complaints at your peril.

3.Don’t fuck with The Food Fairy