"It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia."
On birthdays, fine dining and the City of Brotherly Love
“To think too much is a disease. A real, actual disease.“
Fedor Dostoyevsky
A couple of days ago, while on a video call, I was asked about the musical instruments lined up behind me and in front of the pseudo-built-in bookshelves. The piano, guitar, and trombone are my sons. We moved his “music room” into my office in the preparation for upcoming major construction project. The traveling “music room” led to a conversation regarding a shared love for ska and drawing a line between ska-punk and punk-pop, in other words Rancid but not Poison Ivy. From there there was a reminiscence over different performers and venues and concerts across most of the eastern seaboard from NYC all the way down to DC.
Philadelphia crowds at any genre of music, at least speaking about small and medium size venues from the Electric Factory to The Trocadero to The Theatre of Living Arts… all of those crowds at the concerts I’ve attended in Philly over the last 30 years have always been the most welcoming, friendly, truly nice. Whether it is a mosh pit during a monsoon type storm during a Gogol Bordello concert on the river front or the the most pit during 12-hour all-day SkaFest at the Troc, any and all craziness would always stop the second someone falls down or gets hurt, the entire crowd picks them up, ensures that they are okay and only then going back to going batshit crazy and happy. I’ve had been picked up, my glasses found, cleaned and carefully placed back on my face, asked if I am okay before all of the proverbial hell would break loose again.
What a stark difference to being elbowed in my gut in the Starland Ballroom or being pushed down in AC or… You get the point. Philly’s mosh pit crowds are crazy but they are friendly and caring.
It is a City of Brotherly Love after all.
I was firmly reminded of this last night.
Yesterday was my 50th birthday.
Please, no, don’t!
I do NOT like celebrating birthdays. I feel the entire idea of celebrating the planet circling around the sun one more time somewhat silly. Being an introvert, as much as it may seem to be fun to have a day focused on you, it really is not. In the end, is not age is nothing more than just a number?
Up until recently I have intentionally avoided celebrating my birthdays, having any kind of a gathering or a party unless it was one of those stereotypical “big round numbers” like 25, 30, 40… My 30th was enjoined by our first housewarming in an actual historical house and our official wedding party. It lasted 3 if not 4 days. At the very end, the remaining two friends and I found a case of pisswarm Baltika #9 (if you don’t know what that is, don’t ask or google, just move on to the paragraph) and we got an honest to god Irish cop drunk to the point where he never made it past his living room when he crawled back home.
My 40th was a combination of NYE celebration and a Gogol Bordello concert where a very dear friend ended up getting sick while the concert most definitely underdelivered, at least by the standards of a couple of dozen GB shows we have seen in the past.
More recently, I switched it up and planned to specifically get out of Dodge and get as far away from home as possible for my birthday. A couple of years ago it was trip to Paris. Last year it was a trip to Nice and Amsterdam. This year it was going to be a trip to New Orleans.
I was going to meet my 2nd half century in style - from hangover curing brunch at the Dooky Chase to a show at the Preservation Hall, to dinner at R’evolition, to trying the to join the Acme 15 dozen oysters Club. Alas, practically at the last minute we decided to cancel the trip to focus on getting ready for the construction starting a day after we were supposed to come back.
Thus we scaled back to a cozy intimate dinner and drinks for the two of us somewhere in Philly.
Well, what a difference a year makes!
Before describing or comparing our experiences celebrating my birthday last year and this year, I have to say, this is not about the $$$, the cost of the bill either year will neither make rich nor bankrupt us, but both were definitely pricey. The difference is in how the situations were approached.
After all, it is “always sunny in Philadelphia.”
Last year after a leisurely trip to Nice, where we relaxed, enjoyed the slight warmth of the Cote d’Azur, got pampered at hotel Le Negresco, traveled to Eze, Antibes, Paul-de-Vin, etc. We even managed to find and purchase a coat for me that for the first time in 25 years of living together we both liked in terms of the design, I found it to be comfortable and the right texture1. Trust me, that could be a great story in and of itself.
Alas. We flew into practically frozen Amsterdam in order to celebrate my birthday. The plan was to enjoy the oldest “coffeeshop” in Amsterdam and then go to have dinner at one of the top restaurants in the city, one with two Michelin stars to their name.
The Bulldog exceeded all of my expectations. After a few hours there, we went to have dinner, salivating over the amazing food we are about to experience. Well, as it turns out, for a high end concept restaurant one can do better, much better. As a matter of fact, in our case better was hot dogs and burgers stand on the corner. I wish I was kidding or exaggerating. We went with high expectations after getting a recommendation from a friend and taking a look at the website and the menu.
We freshened up and braved through the below zero temperatures to get to taste the wonderful things that the menu had promised us. The restaurant is located inside the same building as a hotel and the building is stunning. It feels like you are walking into a place from almost a hundred years ago…
Looks can be deceiving. It all started okay. We got introduced to our server, got a bottle of tap water and placed order for drinks. Drinks were absolutely great, except it took 15 minutes to get them and even our server had to apologize and say that she is not sure why it's taking so long. It should have been a warning. Granted the drinks were good, still...
We ordered three appetizers and one main course to share. The first appetizer was oysters and it was darn good but it's very difficult to ruin good oysters. The second one was beef tartare. It was a very different take on the dish and yet, it was arguably it was the best I have ever had. Sadly that's all the positives I can mention. The bread that came with tomato and pepper should have been amazing, but everything was extremely oversalted with literally no respite - at some point I took a bite and it was nothing but salt!
Similarly, the baby eel dish was not just oversalted, it tasted of nothing but salt. While the trio of appetizers arrived at a fairly reasonable time, the 10 mushroom risotto that made both of us salivate when reading the menu, was taking upwards to an hour to get to our table. At about 45 minute mark or so, our server stopped by to say that the risotto is going to be out in a minute. Fifteen minutes later we asked to cancel it and to get our check. Not only did we finish our starters and were basically sitting and waiting for 45 minutes, we finished an entire bottle of wine in the meantime!
Over the course of an hour and forty minutes we were not asked even once whether we'd like more water (which we did) or more bread (which we also did even if it was oversalted) or to order anything else.
To make things more interesting, there a gentleman with an overgrown mustache who was very impatient and abrasive and a dictionary definition of condescending prick and alpha-male mainsplainer douche who made it a point to turn his nose up and remove everything from the table the millisecond it was no longer necessary. Of course, when we actually need someone in charge, he was nowhere to be found.
Once we have politely asked our server to cancel the risotto and bring our check, The Overgrown Mustache decided to inquire if everything was okay with the fakest smile I've seen in person. When I told him that I've had dinners at most of the Iron Chefs and other celebrity chefs’ restaurants and multiple Michelin star restaurants and this was by far the worst, he somehow managed to impart on us that he would rather we not pay the €180, however this was not offered as an apology for a bad service.
Oh no! This was offered as the most condescending slap in a face for the “lowly plebs." The dude literally ripped the check out of my hand along with my credit card that he theatrically given back to me while saying he won’t have me pay if I did not enjoy.
In the online review I wrote the same night, I stated that it was “literally the worst birthday experience and the worst dinner in Europe I've ever had.2”
After we ran out of that pretensions hellscape we had a beer at a tiny basement bar on the way back to the hotel and then celebrated my birthday for real with champagne and room service overlooking the Dam.
I probably should mention that as much as I love to travel and as much as I used to travel, both for work and for leisure, I am cursed with always having to experience an incredibly weird, oftentimes challenging event which later becomes a fun travel story to read. Potentially, I could write a book about how I had to have an emergency dental surgery in India and then had to travel home with 8 (!!) layovers due to Lufthansa strike or how I literally missed a connection because my original flight was delayed because - I still don’t know how that’s even possible - they lost the plane at the airport!
Just a couple of weeks ago, we went to spend a night in Philly, staying at one of the highest rated hotels, a chain that we have used and frequented for years without any issues and ended up needing to recover in order to properly celebrate our 20th wedding anniversary after the valet attendant spend good 15 minutes yelling at us for “blocking” the street, refusing to park our car, because we weren’t “hotel guests,” etc. To the hotel’s credit they resolved the situations promptly and incredibly well.
I am mentioning this because when my spouse and I go anywhere, we expect something weird to happen.
Last night we went out for my 50th.
First, we stopped by a drink at a well reviewed high end restaurant around Rittenhouse square. We thought we were amazingly lucky to were seated on a couch in front of the fire place. As we only wanted drink, this was intimate, quiet and well perfect. Except…
There was only one server for a room with 6 small tables, one large table and our couch. The drinks were good and I can’t blame the poor server but the management of the restaurant should know better than have one person for up to 29 guests!! Unlike last year, it was not a precursor for the hell to follow.
We made it to our place right on time, having gotten slightly lost on the walk over. We waited maybe 2-3 minutes and were seated and greeted by an amazing server. I have to say that the food, all of it, everything we tried last night, was simply phenomenal - from the oysters to the razor clams to hiramasa to the sweetbreads…. amazing, tasty, scrumptious - YUM!
The French 75 that I ordered to start the night, was not simply the best interpretation of the classic drink I have ever tried… it was perfect. At some point my spouse non-jokingly told our server to just keep bringing me those as soon as my glass is empty. I had 3 if not 4 of those and as I am typing this, I can literally taste the drink in my mouth!
Everything was seemingly perfect.
Except an incredibly loud an obnoxious group of 5 people who were seated behind me. If I would call them “white trash,” I think I would be offending those who are the actual white trash. They were so rude and so loud that the two us, as well as both table next to us started to lean as close to each other as possible in order to try and hear each other because of them. I’ll admit that myself and my much better half gave the group an “evil side eye” but really, can you blame us?
In the intermission between the foodgasm from the sweetbreads and the strip bass stew to come, I went out to take a hit from my vape while waiting for a “refill” on my French 75. When I was coming back, not even two minutes later, I saw the manager of the restaurant profusely apologizing to my significantly better half and taking away a weird looking drink with multiple plastic straws sticking out of it the stereotypical spring break fishbowl style. I thought that we inadvertently got the wrong drink and that’s why he was apologizing.
Oh no.
As it turns out, someone mentioned to one of the servers that that loud group was, well loud and obnoxious. Their server mentioned it to them and requested that they behave more appropriately. They assume it was us who “ratted” them out and one of the guys from the group, went to the bar, got the fishbowl neon green bullshit drink, placed it in the middle of the table and told my spouse “I hope you enjoy the rest of your night.” Along the same lines, when they were literally kicked out from the restaurant later, two of the women came over to the table next to us to “taunt” us with their incredibly graphic sexual exploits.
That’s not the point though. Our server spent the next five minutes apologizing to us, while we still weren’t even sure what the bloody hell actually happened yet!!! She said that the manager will stop by and speak to us shortly, even though we weren’t even sure why still at that point.
The manager, an incredibly sweet and down to earth guy who also was making drinks at the bar as a side quest I guess, came over and explained that even though it was not directly their fault, they find it unacceptable and they would like to ensure that we are not disappointed and that he was take care of our bill by zeroing it out. We tried to argue and explain that we don’t need nor want the grand gesture and are capable of paying for our dinner and see no reason why the restaurant should be responsible. He insisted and we agreed as long as we could pay for the desert and still leave a tip. Which, since we had enough cash, ended up being almost 50% of the entire bill.
He stopped by again later and gave me his business card asking to call him personally before we come back next, saying that he hopes we would. We assured him that we most definitely would as the food was amazing and we want to try more of the menu.
They made the second best Mont Blanc I have ever tried and while we were enjoying it, the chef owner came over and spend a good 15 minutes apologizing and assuring us that they would to ensure that we come back and give them a chance to do better next time!!!
Both my spouse and I were beyond amazed since we knew that 1. the restaurant did not do anything wrong whatsoever and 2. we did not fully put two and two together under couple of hours later, when we were sipping whiskey on our coral colored couch at 3am.
Again, this is not about the $$$. While the bills were comparable between last year and this one, this really about the experience, how you are perceived and treated. Last year we were looked down upon and disregarded. Last night, we were shown that we matter, that our experience actually means something to the establishment and that’s the same spirit of Philadelphia that I mentioned earlier in all of the mosh pits I’ve come across…
Indeed, it is always sunny in the City of Brotherly Love.
“Please don’t expect me to always be good and kind and loving. There are times when I will be cold and thoughtless and hard to understand.”
Sylvia Plath
Recently, as in over last few years, I have discovered that what I now know as my OCD, I have had a significant issues and dependency on the texture of material used in order to wear any sort of clothing.
Arguably, the way their customer service department handled my review, was actually more condescending and worse than the actual experience at the restaurant. I won’t publish their name (or any other businesses mentioned in this essay) but if you want to avoid these place, feel free to ask.