This is a guest post from Robynne's husband, the infamous "M". He had a memorable experience while out without his doting wife, and wanted to share it with you. It has very little to do with gluten-free, but it does have to do with eating!
Earlier this week, one of my classmates wanted to celebrate his birthday at Montana's. Eight of us all went out, and six of us had every intention to get very drunk.
We were promptly greeted and seated in the bar, and a waitress took our drink orders. Almost all of us ordered alcohol, but it took upwards of ten minutes for our alcohol to arrive, however our water showed up nearly instantly. I had finished my drink before she came back to take our orders, during which time we all ordered another drink, a round of shots and our meals. We proceeded to wait another fifteen minutes for our next drinks to come. We quickly finished our shots and we wanted to order another round of them, but the waitress was busy chatting with the bartender. Most of our starters came out, although one guy (the birthday guy!) didn't get his appetizer to start with, and we finally ordered another round of shots. Finished those, and wanted to order more, but again the waitress was clearly very occupied, talking to the bartender. We didn't get an opportunity to order our last shots until our main course came out twenty minutes later, at which point the birthday boy's appetizer came. We all finished our meals within twenty minutes or so. We had to ask for our shots twice, but they never came. Our desserts came, and still no sign of the last round. We waited for another fifteen minutes before we had an opportunity to ask for our bills. Because of the poor level of service, none of us tipped. The piss-poor excuse for a waitress had the audacity to complain that we didn't.
I ordered what they call The Feast which comes with a soup or salad, an entree and a dessert. I had the Pot Roast Soup, which was fantastic. It was easily the best part of my entire meal. My entree was a full rack of baby back ribs with honey garlic sauce and a chocolate "mousse" for dessert. The ribs were okay. There wasn't a lot of meat on the bones, it was mostly just fat. That makes for a really good steak, but really bad ribs. With the ribs I had baked beans, coleslaw and cornbread. The baked beans looked the same going in as they would come out and they tasted like Satan's asshole. The coleslaw was rancid; like gone-bad-needs-to-be-thrown-out. However, if you forced me to eat one or the other, I'd go with the sour coleslaw. At least food poisoning will eject that out of me; the taste of those beans will stick with me forever. The dessert was about an ice cream scoop worth of Jell-o brand chocolate pudding and a quarter inch of graham cracker crumbs that they packed so tightly I needed a jackhammer to scoop it out. I actually just needed a butter knife, which I had to ask the next table for, because my waitress was effervescent.
The quantity of the ribs would have been reasonable if the price point was a little lower. I could have gone to McDonald's and spent less, eaten more and had the same quality.
I was disgusted with the way that the waitress treated my friends. She tried to charge us for the shots we never saw, she never took our empty glasses away, she became ruder as we got frustrated with her, and she was greedy. She commented to one of my passive friends that, She asked one of my passive friends if he had forgotten to tip just like the rest of us had. Trust me, we did not forget to tip. That's when I lost it. I'm sure you've picked up from Robynne that I'm not exactly passive. I told her in no uncertain terms that she did not deserve a tip.
To summarize, our service was damn-near non-existent, my food was poor, the atmosphere felt like exactly like Montana (the state), and prices are high. You are paying an exorbitant amount of money to eat at a place that looks like a hick decorated it and eat shitty-ass food. I'd give the service a one out of ten, and the food a four out of ten. I would not recommend it to anyone, and I won't go back.