Had a ambivalent experience at our Cinco de Mayo dinner with wifey and the grandkids at El Ranchero in Ellettsville last evening. The place was packed, of course, and we waited a short time to be seated. No biggie. The usual table muchies arrived promptly, drinks and meals ordered, so far so good. By the second round of chips & salsa it was becoming apparent that the kitchen was backed up. The kids were getting antsy, but I took it in stride.
However, as it approached 45 minutes of waiting, the nature of the problem became clear when our wait brought the bill to our table and thanked us for dining at El Ranchero. “But… we haven’t gotten our food”, wifey said. The wait appeared to be confused over this significant disconnect between services rendered and bill tendered, apologized profusely, and scurried off to the kitchen, ostensibly to rectify the situation.
I’ll cut to the chase — it took three… that’s right, THREE, conversations with both the wait and the restaurant manager to receive our meals an hour after ordering. Well, actually wifey and I received *our* meals — the kids’ enchiladas remained conspicuously absent from the table, thus requiring a FOURTH trip by wifey to the management suggesting that the kids would kind of like to eat, too. It took another ten minutes for the kids to be served.
In the end, we all received our food (and it was delicious, as we have come expect from El Ranchero), but the visit took over 90 minutes out of our lives. On the plus side, the restaurant comped us the entire bill, pitcher of margarita included. Right nice of them, and almost makes up for the frustration of dealing with two hungry grandkids.
We left feeling full but somewhat exhausted. After a long day at work and our dining debacle, Rhonda came home to Taterbug Hill and immediately fell asleep, and the kids soon followed. But I stayed up watching some Star Trek Enterprise (on my third cycling of the series on Netflix), afterwards studying the week’s manipulated smackdown in the precious metals market (thank you, JP Morgan/Chase, you bastards).
So… a mixed bag as Cinco de Maya celebrations go, but I swear, I’m still full of beans.
