Buca, Buca Di Beppo!

Take the old Barry Manilow song, "Copa, Copa Cabana!" and you will get the feel for this post, a tale of two restaurant experiences, not a tiny ship that was lost... but I digress.

Monday night about 5 PM I visited the Mens Wearhouse on Grape Street and was fitted for a new suit. To celebrate this once every twelve years phenomenon, I took the lovely Mrs C to a restaurant that she loves, known on other notorious blogs as "Dead Mobster". My Brother always referred to it as "Dead Lobster" and that's a whole another story on another day.
"Dead Lobster" as it is called by my family, is a place the old love and the young dread. It was a regular nightmare for my siblings and I.
"Where do you think Mom and Dad want to go out to dinner for their (Insert any occasion here)?
"Where do you think?"

I was the peacemaker in our family. After they could no longer drive, and I became their chauffeur, I brokered a happy compromise for all at, "Olive Garden."

Any way, back on topic, I drop Mrs C at the Dead Lobster door and score a parking spot next to the overhead canopy. Sweet! This may not be so bad after all!
Mrs C was back out before I was out of the car, announcing a wait of 15 to 20 minutes. Okay, that was expected. So we take a seat on a bench in the sun.....45 minutes later..... "table for annoyed customers? table for two for annoyed customers?!"
We trudge in, only to have them attempt to seat us next to the "we don't care if we get lung cancer" section. "We're going all no smoking soon" the hostess assured us. Mrs C was having none of it. She suffers from asthma, and I was about to speak up, when she did. we held out for the next available table, in another, not so smoky room.

For our impertinence, we were duly punished, banished to the booth between assigned waitresses, where we waited more than 20 minutes, just to get acknowledged.
When we finally did get a waiter, he took our order, then proceeded to bring drinks, biscuits, and food to tables that were seated AFTER US.

Once again, I wasn't feeling any love at Dead Lobster. When I finally got my cup of clam chowder, he told us they were temporarily out of biscuits. The tables around us were getting them, but not us. When we finally did get some biscuits, after begging and pleading, they had been torn in half to make it look like we had four, when we really only had two.
I thought Mrs C had ordered Lobster, but she informs me she had a serving of crab.
I was feeling pretty crabby about our experience there, but she enjoyed her Crab very much, and a happy Mrs C is what matters most. As far as I'm concerned, whenever I visit Dead Lobster, it always seems to be ignore the bald guy night, along with "no biscuits for you" and "you really don't want a refill of your soda, do you?" day.

Now Jump in the Time machine, speed away after that restaurant nightmare, and go forward to Saturday at 1 PM. Before returning to the Mens Wearhouse to pick up my new threads, Mrs C suggest lunch at Buca Di Beppo!

Mrs C is a wise woman, I tell ya. Talk about good service! And they custom made our Gnocchi for us, no red sauce, just oil and Garlic butter. Try dipping the garlic cheeses bread in that, kiddies. Oh Yeah!
We also had a small (3 servings) order of their Chicken Lemon, and we shared a bowl of their Italian wedding Soup.
People, you have got to try the Italian Wedding Soup, the taste is spectacular!
I can't have heavy foods, and this stuff was perfect. A great meal, with great service, and we were in and out of there in 45 minutes. We were seated in the Frank Sinatra room, and they had a big family party filling up their Pope Room, so I sort of expected a delay, but that didn't happen.

Two dinners, two completely different experiences.

Okay, now here is a very important announcement: Mrs C has made it known that she would like the opportunity to offer alternative views to some of my posts, and in the interest of continued domestic tranquility, I have enabled this blog to allow her to post her own point of view. Please respect her as you should me.

In my next post, I'm going to detail my adventures with electricity and installing new outdoor light fixtures/lamps on the garage. (And yes, I was short one cap screw) You know it's bad when your cross the street neighbors yells over asking "Are you alright?" and your wife stays in her hammock while you reply, while laying on the ground, "Uh yeah, I'm fine!"
If I'd needed help, she'd have given it to me. I haven't been to the ER since February, and that was only 4 stitches. I'm sure if I'd have really been hurt the dogs would have told her.