A Little Wining and Dining

Have you ever left a restaurant and thought “God, I wish I cared enough to write a yelp comment.” Well, here’s my yelp comment and yes I did post this exact post to their yelp. Mostly, because I really was upset, but also, this shit was the worst example of an “Italian” restaurant I’ve ever been to.

The hours of your restaurant, Prosecco, are 11AM until 10PM. We walked in at 8. Anyone see a problem with this? I didn’t. There were still 3 groups in the restaurant when we got there, but they left by the time we ordered a bottle of wine. We went out for a simple glass of wine and some meat and cheese. I rolled my eyes more times than pieces of “cheese” they gave us.

We ordered a bottle of Merlot. Working in a few restaurants, especially two finer dining restaurants, I learned a lot about how to present a bottle of wine. This bartender tried really, really, hard. She failed miserably, which is fine because who really gives a shit how they present the bottle of wine. The point was she tried, but she obviously wasn’t taught.

The biggest fail was when she told me what the bottle of wine was called and pronounced the ‘t’ at the end of Merlot. The other parts of presenting the bottle I can get over. Trust me, I buy a big bottle of barefoot just like the rest of you poor shmucks. But I also know what a good glass of wine tastes like.

Don’t pronounce the ‘t’ though. No matter what. Never say that. I don’t blame this poor idiot, I really don’t. I understand that people just aren’t taught things that I’m taught. I don’t know anything about accounting, but my friend Danny knows plenty about it. He has never taken the time to teach me all of his accounting knowledge. If I was to work for his accounting firm, he would at least show me something about accounting. He wouldn’t let me work there, if I couldn’t do math.

Why didn’t the person who hired this girl, teach her anything about Italian food or wine. After the wine, we wanted to order the meat and cheese plate. I wanted to know what meat and cheese was on the plate so I asked. She told me it was all pork. I understand that Italian meats are made from pork sweetheart, so I asked “what kinds of pork?” She says, “Well, I’d have to go ask.” I answered, “Well, can you go ask?” She walks away and goes to the kitchen and comes back and tells me, “it’s um, cappycoley, brojuto, and mortadella.” She actually said mortadella right. The other ones, I was literally laughing to my girlfriend. Hence, the many eye rolls.

When the meat and cheese came out, Marisa and I actually enjoyed the prosciutto, but the rest of the meat looked like fucking bologna. I love a good bologna sangwich with mayonnaise, but not when I order a 15 dollar meat and cheese plate.

Oh, but it wasn’t actually 15 dollars. Apparently, in the description of the meat and cheese, it said “minimum of 2” and that means that it cost twice as much as the price listed. I thought this was quite funny because by the end of this hideous meal, it was just an added bonus. I asked the bartender, “why is the meat and cheese platter twice what the menu said?” because at this point, I knew I’d be writing this blog.

She walked over to the owner or manager, standing with the rest of the staff, who were clearly waiting for us to leave, even though it was only 9:15, 45 minutes before closing. After talking to him she came back over and told us it is 15 dollars per person, I said “ok,” and again rolled my eyes and laughed. We paid the bill and left. Even though the 5 staff members all said goodnight to us I refused to answer. I would not give them the satisfaction of their sarcastic goodbyes any attention. So, Prosecco, go fuck yourself and your shitty cappycoley.

 

 

 

 

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