Disgruntled Diner

I've been working (in my head) on a post about the latest eatery that Chainwhip and I visited. It's a gastropub called Quinn's on Capitol Hill. Simultaneously (in my head) I've been crafting another post about my string discontented restaurant experiences. Just a few days ago though, I lost all my cell phone photos of our Quinn's date/dinner, so I'm free to combine these two posts into one gigantic disgruntled dump.

Quinn's was recommended by Chainwhip's metrosexual-esque boss who had also recommended an earlier restaurant which we mostly enjoyed, so I had high hopes for Quinn's.

Quinn's had all the ingredients for a foodie excitement... a trendy challenging menu, chic location and clientèle, proven owners with a successful restaurant and the recommendation from another food loving friend. Unfortunately, it did not deliver. Our meal of "must have" french fries, beef tongue hash, rabbit gnocchi, and sweatbreads with creamed corn had many wrongs and little rights. If I had to choose a dish to eat again, it would be the fries. Sad. And if given the choice to return, I would opt to take my chances on an uncharted establishment. Very sad - especially considering their fun menu.

My Quinn's experience put the cherry on top of my series of unhappy dining experiences. What's up with Seattle restaurants? They're expensive with many many misses.

When I go to a new place, I ask always ask myself the same questions...

1. Does the food taste good?
2. Is it worth the price tag?
3. Would I order it again?

Then there are the secondary questions...

4. Is the meal consistently good?
5. Is the menu interesting?
6. Is the service good?
7. Does the restaurant have good ambiance?
8. Do I want to return?

And with these Seattle restaurants, they often fail at 1-4 and sometimes 8. Inconsistency with taste within a meal is a bear because a good restaurant will deliver goodness with every dish. And if the consistency is not there, then I'm less willing to pay the price tag for the meal.

Maybe because I get out less nowadays and because it's quite a task to schedule and pay a babysitter for my time out, my expectations for the evening's meal is much higher than before. Or maybe my taste buds have become more selective. Or maybe I'll never be able to shed my Texas born and bred stomach.

I miss you cheap, fatty, smoky barbecue! Who knows when I will see you again? My stomach longs for you.

Love, KKRRR