What the Hell Happened?

Hello there. We went to our most favourite restaurant ever tonight and it sucked ass. I suppose that's an overstatement, but the whole evening was off. So off that we up and left just after the entrees were served. Didn't even take a bite. So disappointing.

Now all of these things are admittedly very small things. We're not judging against an evening at Applebee's (not that there's anything wrong with that). We've been to El Gaucho maybe 6 or 7 times and each time is the same. Each time is perfect. For this we drop maybe $400. We get a little picky. So sue us.

1. Didn't ask to take our coats upon arrival.
2. Stuck us in the corner
3. Showed up with tap water, didn't offer bottled. Said he'd be right back.
4. After 10 min our waiter-lady showed up. We asked for sparkling. (tip: if you're just the water guy, don't say you'll be back -- if the customer is left alone for 10 min they get upset at you.)
5. Drinks showed up after like 20 min. The 20 min delay is supposed to be after the drinks. Not before.

Now, at this point again we should stress that this is not a place where you want the service to be lickety-split. This is a place were we go to relax and spend a few hours (usually 4+) in a nice dark room filled with a bunch of strangers talking. It's fun. We drink. We nibble. We drink. We feast. We have some wine. We gorge ourselves. It's fun.

6. Christie's drink was short. My drink was weak. Such is life.
7. Bottled water showed up, but they left the old water glasses on the table.
8. Another short delay, a couple of visits from our waitress. She did quite good, actually.
9. Appetizers arrived. Cold. Not ice cold, but yeah, very cold. And the wicked shrimp, which we order every single time ... they neglected to toast the bread. Of course at this point we're alone and not interested in making a fuss....
10. We ask for our Captain (Todd), who normally works Saturday and is supposed to have a bottle picked out for us ... waitress says she'll get him; comes back in a few. Todd's bolted.
11. Replacement wine guy (Nasser (sp?)) arrives and is professional and courteous but ... just ... well ... he seemed annoyed with us. Recommends some mainstream Pinot (Domaine Drouhin) ... good but ... pedestrian.
12. Oh, Nasser asked how we liked our appetizers. We responded with a noncommittal sort of "ok, forgot to toast the bread." At this point it's obvious we're basically done but intead of apologizing he just offers more bread (well, OK, but why?)
13. The people next to us have ordered Bananas Foster (delicious, delicious, delicious). Christie and I have had this a number of times and it's great and people always seem to be ordering it -- apparently it's very popular. Well, to keep in the tradition of this disaster of an evening, the gas fumes from whatever source they use have Christie tearing up and me coughing. Jesus Mother of God what is going on?!!!

This has never happened before, and in all fairness this could have just been our location, stuck back in the little corner in a side room like we were, but still: noxious gas.

OK. Now at this point we are just sort of looking at each other going ... "uh?" I was fully expecting to hear "There is nothing wrong with your television set. Do not attempt to adjust the picture. We are controlling transmission." (Outer Limits). Christie mentioned The Twilight Zone. Egads! But we're hanging in there. That's how good the steak is.

14. The steak arrives. And it's not cooked-to-order. We asked for black and blue, but it came rare. (Black and blue is rare on the inside, charred on the outside. Difficult if not impossible to do at home, because I just can't get the required heat.)
15. We mentioned this to Nasser, who's preparing to carve this admittedly beautiful piece of meat tableside. He doesn't reply to us, but thankfully he does turn and ask our server if we ordered it black and blue. She's like "sure did".
16. She moved in to take the steak but Nasser is just ready to carve. That man is not stopping. He's got the potatoes off and ready to go, but the waitress is persistent and manages after some negotiation to take it back to the grill and get some char on there.
17. Steak returns. Woohoo! Looks blacker but not excellent but we're ready to go nonetheless.

Let's digress a little bit to talk about this steak. The cut is called a Chateaubriand, which is basically a little roast cut from the tenderloin. It's carved tableside into six wonderful slices, and the staff mixes a special sauce from the juices of the meat right there using some butter, dry mustard, wine, etc. Very very tasty. Now, in the five other times we've ordered this, the staff asks how spicy we'd like the sauce prepared, whatever. Not tonight, we're full steam ahead. Of course Christie has a distrust of sauces in general and of mustard in particular and wants her steak unadorned.

18. She should have her steak unadorned. We call out to Nasser: "Sir, Sir, excuse me, Sir." (but what we're thinking is "what the hell is going on") We explain how Christie would like her steak prepared -- sans sauce -- and he says OK. And then slops on some mustard and pours wine over it. You can imagine our reactions: "wait, wait, uh, wait". We repeat our request, and the response is "it's just wine". (It's not, but that's beside the point, isn't it? We asked for her steak p-l-a-i-n.)
19. He carves from the "sauce free end" of the roast for Christie. Our "wait, wait, uh, wait" interrupted the pouring of the wine. Perhaps he considered it a valiant effort to rescue the cut, perhaps he thought we were retards, who knows. Of course Christie's is not sauce free, can't be.

At this point we are so exhausted we just sit back and shut up. Nasser finishes the carving (into 4 oddly-shaped chunks), lays out the rest of food and quietly departs. Our waitress tries a rescue with cheery banter but she is ignored.

20. We look at the plates, which look just wonderful. But we are not having a good time. So we head to the front counter to pay. They comp us, which they needn't have.

At this point our evening is dead on the table, doctor. Flatline. We considered other restaurants but finally just said fuck it and hit Piece of Cake.