1 Out of 5 Stars - Do Not Recommend

My mom was an amazing cook, but there was only so much she could do when our stovetop oven broke down. My family used it as an excuse to try a nearby restaurant. I should mention we’re kindof “foodies.” Trip planning always involves careful consideration of what and where to eat and we’ve had some amazing meals on several different continents, so it’s ironic this is one of our most unforgettable dinners out. This occurred in the early 1980s and nothing since has come close.

The place was owned by sisters. I was about to describe them as old, but realize they may very well have been the age I am now which is OBVIOUSLY not old. One was the waitress, wearing big, fuzzy slippers for comfort; the other was the cook, smoking a cigar in the kitchen.

There were paper placemats on the table, but the budget apparently only supported one per seat per night. If you came early enough, lucky you! You had a nice clean new one. If you were at the second or third seating of the evening, you had a placemat with food stains and water ring marks from whoever sat there before you.

As we looked over our menus, we couldn’t help but overhear the gentleman at the next table. His salad had just been brought to him and he said, “I ordered blue cheese. This is Russian.” The waitress wordlessly took it away. She returned almost immediately, having simply poured blue cheese dressing on top of his Russian. He complained, but was informed “Oh, hush now! Lots of people order it that way. You’ll like it.” I’m assuming we all agree that absolutely no one orders it that way, but he didn’t say another word.

Then the waitress came to our table. I told her what I’d like for dinner. She replied, “We’re all out.”

I ordered something else and she informed me, “We don’t have that tonight.”

I asked her what they did have and got hit with a loud, “What’s the matter, honey? Can’t you read? It’s right there on the menu.”

Eventually, I successfully landed on spaghetti and meatballs. The pasta was fine, and the sauce was fine, but after a few bites of my meatball, something was decidedly crunchy, and not in a good way. No big deal, I just didn’t eat any more meatball. But then it was a big deal when the waitress came back and displayed my plate to all the other diners while loudly proclaiming “No dessert for this young lady! She didn’t finish her dinner!” First of all, as an early teenager, that is exactly the sort of attention I didn’t want or care for. Second, isn’t that bad for business? Don’t you want to sell dessert no matter what? Maybe they were all out of that too and that was her way of covering.

Mom, who usually never has an unkind word for anyone, made a proclamation as soon as we got into our car in the parking lot. “We will eat Campbell’s soup cold out of the can before we ever come back here.”

We should have known what we were in for based on the name of the place. I won’t give it away but imagine staying at the Scenic Vista Hotel, checking in, and looking out over dumpsters in an alleyway. The restaurant’s name was like that, but the reason I don’t want to name it is because it’s still open for business. And it actually has 3.9 out of 5 stars on online reviews. Let me know if you want to go! I indeed have not been back since that night. I’m sure it’s under new management, and I’m even more sure I could better stand up for myself now than I did at 13 or 14 years old. But I’ll relax and not say a word if you’d like to try Blue Russian Cheese salad.