Restaurant Week, Pt. 2, or, "The Dud"

So, last night was our second excursion into the heart of NYC's Restaurant Week. It was, in a word, lame. In a few more words, it was a giant, swirling maelstrom of mediocrity that left us shattered and broken, alone and lost, casting our eyes towards the heavens and asking of a cruel, uncaring God, "Why, Lord... WHY???"

Okay, maybe that's overstating it a bit. But it wasn't good.

The restaurant that we went to was called Marseille and I get the impression that, were we to go there and order off the regular menu, perhaps while having a bottle of wine or a few drinks, we'd probably have a fine meal and a lovely time. However, since that wasn't the case... since we were there to participate in the Restaurant Week prix fixe menu... we were immediately awarded lower-class status, in both the qualities of the food and the service. Let me put it to you this way: if Marseille had been the Titanic, we'd have been down with the Irish dancing jigs from the old country and then drowning because there weren't enough lifeboats.

The service was just abysmal. We barely saw our waiter; as soon as he got wind of our Restaurant Week odor, he pretty much disappeared. And when we did see him, there was definitely some 'tude. I mean, he didn't try to pee on us or anything, but still... we were not his favorite table, that much was clear. Also, we were seated off in a corner, next to the restaurant's side exit. It's heavily trafficked side exit, I should say; every few minutes, the door would open and we'd get a nice blast of cold air from outside. Totally awesome conditions for dining, for sure. In general, the joint's ambiance left a lot to be desired; noisy, cramped, and hurried. Girlfriend likened it to the sort of atmosphere you'd find inside an Applebee's and that pretty much tells you all you need to know.

But what of the chow, C-dog? All the sins in the world can be washed away with a good plate of delicious deliciousness! True, and that would have a gone a long way to making last night thumbs-up worthy. Sadly... woefully... it wasn't to be. The cooks somehow managed to pluck the word "meh" out of the air and rub it all over our food before they served it to us, particularly where the main courses were concerned. Girlfriend had a crispy skate wing that was okay, but it had a ton of unnecessary crap on it... a variety of sauces, garnishes, and somewhat-cooked vegetables that made the whole dish confusing. I had scallops with cabbage in a bacon sauce which sounds great, in theory, but in application was waaaaaaay too rich; I felt like I was eating a block of butter that had been rolled in salt and, truthfully, that's what I'd had for lunch. And for desert, we had the first thing in all of our Restaurant Week dealings that was totally inedible... Girlfriend's bread pudding. Dry, bland, and as unmemorable as a tiny fart first thing in the morning. Even with my help, she wasn't able to finish it. Believe me, it was heartbreaking. No really, I cried a little.

Basically, I guess, we just felt like the restaurant didn't care. Which begs the question, why do Restaurant Week in the first place if you're just going to treat the people who show up to participate like crap? Seems kinda counter-productive, to me. Then again, what do I know... I'm sleeping down in steerage with the goats.