Quinn's
1001 E Pike St
Seattle, WA 98127
I was completely underwhelmed and annoyed by Quinn's.
The first thing that happened was my menu was blank. Like, not printed. So I asked for a new one from our waiter, who immediately branded me the table's "problem child." Then he took our drink order; when I asked if their Tom Collins was made with sour mix or fresh lemons, he proudly said, "Mix!" Wrong answer. A TOM COLLINS IS ALWAYS ALWAYS ALWAYS MADE FRESH LEMONS. So I ordered a Fisk, one of their signature cocktails, and it was ok. Kinda sour, kinda bitter, lotsa boozy.
Then waiterguy took our food order - being the problem child, I asked which items were meatless to which he responded with a wry grin and a bit too much conspiratorial double-entendre, "honey, we're very meat-forward here," and pointed me towards a sliced pear and endive salad.
But you must understand, I'm hungry, I'm a big gal, and I'm drinking an uberboozy drink. I'm gonna need something a little more substantial than a small endive salad. Too bad there wasn't anything. I think I said out loud that I'd be going elsewhere for a different, better dinner later. My companions had an easier time, as the meaty choices were plenty and they all looked as though they'd be pretty tasty.
So our waiter jots down our choices, walks away, goes 'boop boop boop' over at his computer, then comes back and asks us if we'd had a chance to look at the menu and would we like to order. Aroo? He was reminded that we had just ordered, less than 4 minutes ago, remember, that one time that you were at our table and we talked about food? And you wrote down what we wanted? Yeah, that was a great time...
After a while, our dinners arrived - well, the boyfriend's hammy cheese sandwich, the friend's lentil thingee, and the mini-meatball "sliders" (which were NOT from White Castle, therefore NOT sliders), and my teeny weenie, delicate, dainty, endive salad with translucent pear slices and 3 small nubs of feta. It was pretty, really pretty, but not a meal. The sandwich, I hear, was tasty but not spectacular. Just a grilled cheese with ham. No frills, no fries. And why they couldn't have made that a meatless grilled cheese for me is beyond ridiculous, but whatevs. Our friend got a curried cauliflower and lentil dish, which looked really good and I wanted to try it, but it reeked of secret hidden chicken stock. And the mini burger meatball sandwich doo-dads looked like the cream puffs served with pho, only stuffed with beef not sweet cream.
We ate and chatted and stuff. It was nice.
Until... our waiter *sat *down *at *our *table with us and asked what were doing that evening. I gave him a really cagey answer, something like "oh, we're just playing it by ear" because he was pushing all of my privacy buttons and I really don't like waiter banter. Totally none of his business. He was oblivious to my get-the-hell-outta-my-face 'tude and proceeded to tell us to avoid Pioneer Square because it was "all Fratty McFratterson down there" and that he really liked Ozzy's in Queen Anne because he got all "Bewilder McSloshingtons" there one time. NOT THAT WE ASKED. Or cared. Then he asked what 'hoods we all lived in and gave us his little neighborhood reviews. I was seriously ready to punch him in the chest with my fork. Good thing I was weak from hunger.
Oh! Then he was talking about his tattoos and how he wanted to get something on the back of his neck; something animal-centric, "but no Discovery Channel stuff." What does that even mean? Shark Week? God! Waiter! Shut up Already!
He invited us back and said he'd love to buy us dessert sometime, but I'm wondering how would he remember us on a later occasion if he couldn't even recall when we ordered food from him that same day.
I wanted dinner, not a new best friend.
1001 E Pike St
Seattle, WA 98127
I was completely underwhelmed and annoyed by Quinn's.
The first thing that happened was my menu was blank. Like, not printed. So I asked for a new one from our waiter, who immediately branded me the table's "problem child." Then he took our drink order; when I asked if their Tom Collins was made with sour mix or fresh lemons, he proudly said, "Mix!" Wrong answer. A TOM COLLINS IS ALWAYS ALWAYS ALWAYS MADE FRESH LEMONS. So I ordered a Fisk, one of their signature cocktails, and it was ok. Kinda sour, kinda bitter, lotsa boozy.
Then waiterguy took our food order - being the problem child, I asked which items were meatless to which he responded with a wry grin and a bit too much conspiratorial double-entendre, "honey, we're very meat-forward here," and pointed me towards a sliced pear and endive salad.
But you must understand, I'm hungry, I'm a big gal, and I'm drinking an uberboozy drink. I'm gonna need something a little more substantial than a small endive salad. Too bad there wasn't anything. I think I said out loud that I'd be going elsewhere for a different, better dinner later. My companions had an easier time, as the meaty choices were plenty and they all looked as though they'd be pretty tasty.
So our waiter jots down our choices, walks away, goes 'boop boop boop' over at his computer, then comes back and asks us if we'd had a chance to look at the menu and would we like to order. Aroo? He was reminded that we had just ordered, less than 4 minutes ago, remember, that one time that you were at our table and we talked about food? And you wrote down what we wanted? Yeah, that was a great time...
After a while, our dinners arrived - well, the boyfriend's hammy cheese sandwich, the friend's lentil thingee, and the mini-meatball "sliders" (which were NOT from White Castle, therefore NOT sliders), and my teeny weenie, delicate, dainty, endive salad with translucent pear slices and 3 small nubs of feta. It was pretty, really pretty, but not a meal. The sandwich, I hear, was tasty but not spectacular. Just a grilled cheese with ham. No frills, no fries. And why they couldn't have made that a meatless grilled cheese for me is beyond ridiculous, but whatevs. Our friend got a curried cauliflower and lentil dish, which looked really good and I wanted to try it, but it reeked of secret hidden chicken stock. And the mini burger meatball sandwich doo-dads looked like the cream puffs served with pho, only stuffed with beef not sweet cream.
We ate and chatted and stuff. It was nice.
Until... our waiter *sat *down *at *our *table with us and asked what were doing that evening. I gave him a really cagey answer, something like "oh, we're just playing it by ear" because he was pushing all of my privacy buttons and I really don't like waiter banter. Totally none of his business. He was oblivious to my get-the-hell-outta-my-face 'tude and proceeded to tell us to avoid Pioneer Square because it was "all Fratty McFratterson down there" and that he really liked Ozzy's in Queen Anne because he got all "Bewilder McSloshingtons" there one time. NOT THAT WE ASKED. Or cared. Then he asked what 'hoods we all lived in and gave us his little neighborhood reviews. I was seriously ready to punch him in the chest with my fork. Good thing I was weak from hunger.
Oh! Then he was talking about his tattoos and how he wanted to get something on the back of his neck; something animal-centric, "but no Discovery Channel stuff." What does that even mean? Shark Week? God! Waiter! Shut up Already!
He invited us back and said he'd love to buy us dessert sometime, but I'm wondering how would he remember us on a later occasion if he couldn't even recall when we ordered food from him that same day.
I wanted dinner, not a new best friend.
Fail.
Here's a proper Tom Collins:
2 ounces Gin
1 ounce fresh lemon juice, or better, 1 whole lemon, quartered
1 teaspoon sugar or simple syrup
4 ounces cold club soda
Slice of orange and a maraschino cherry
1 ounce fresh lemon juice, or better, 1 whole lemon, quartered
1 teaspoon sugar or simple syrup
4 ounces cold club soda
Slice of orange and a maraschino cherry
Muddle the en-tire lemon in a glass with ice and sugar, add Gin and top with club soda.
Vodka, limes, or any other ingredients are not allowed.
A Vodka Collins is made with vodka, a John Collins with whiskey, and a Rum Collins is made with, you guessed it, rum. If a Tom Collins is ever served up with limes instead of lemons, send it back immediately! You've been slipped a Gin Rickey and it's not acceptable for a bartender to do that to you.
1 comment:
Was gonna take some out-of-towners here next week...glad to find out ahead of time that I'd be shit out of luck unless I ate meat. I'd heard that they had a decent number of meatless sides that were good...guess not. Any recommendations for a similar place (as in good beer and small plates) that has better veggie options?
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