This guy has a restaurant called Nosh at the outlets at Hilton Head (shopping was fine, thanks, it was even sales tax-free Sunday!) so we went there as we were all fading a bit.
Here are some facts.
1. The floor was greasy. I mean "sliding around on your shoes as you walk to the restroom" greasy.
2. Our server had on a dirty server-tunic thing, sorta misbuttoned. Li'l Cait said she saw her navel when she was setting down drinks, but I keep hoping I just dreamt that part.
3. When they brought out Gabe's cobb-salad type thing, the kid who brought it said, all perky-like, "the dressing's really good if you add pepper!" Why this strange directive? Could it be because the purported "tomato vinaigrette" dressing was actually fucking condensed tomato soup (I both trust Gabe - a chef - on this, and I tasted it myself)?
4. My fish sandwich (with "mango-infused mayo" - surprisingly not flavorful/mango-y at all!) was the greasiest thing I have had served to me in a restaurant in living memory. Old grease.
5. When an unsuspecting couple sat down next to us at the next table (I had no time to warn them to run), I heard the husband-type telling the wife-type that the front of house/seater person had said they should relax and have a drink, as the "kitchen was on break for the next twenty minutes." Hint: what?
Now, I would not waste the time recounting this story of yuck had we not ended up seeing this man's restaurant show later in the week. He was in Connecticut, helping some poor schlubs save their Italian joint and rolling his eyes at their watery tomato sauce and shaking his head in disbelief at their lack of financial acumen. What they really need is a show where the CT schlub comes to Nosh and points at the gross for the first five minutes then laughs his ass off for the rest of the hour.
Anyway, it was surreal, knowing that this guy is some sort of bistro-saving standard bearer by trade. This wasn't just the "b-team" on a Sunday, it was systemic decline.
WILD!
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