Apparently all it takes to get service is man parts.
On Sunday I went to Blue Plate Diner with CBC and I had the best service from the wait staff there ever. Really, when I walked in by myself I waited about five minutes for the owner (who I blame Blue Plate’s awful service on) to notice me and put my name on the list. Even though the line looked obscenely long, he said it would be about a 15 minute wait.
The second CBC shows up, we were seated on the patio. This never happens to me and the girls. We always wait forever to get our name on the list, then wait to be seated at an indoor table then wait another ten minutes for a server to ask us if we want coffee. Blue Plate is sexist or at least the wait staff seems more inclined to treat the men better than the ladies. That’s it-I’m dressing in drag next time I go there. Maybe if I look like I belong on the wait staff, I won’t have to wait.
I have very strong feelings about my coffee. What is with a server’s need to put coffee in my cup every time they walk by? Coffee is a delicate balance of cream, sugar and coffee. Why are servers so intent on messing it up? I have it down to a science–one part sugar, two parts cream and three parts coffee. If a server adds coffee, they ruin the ratio. And my coffee is not the delicious sugary mess it was before.
I told my server three times, I didn’t want her to add coffee to my cup. And every time she looked at me like I was crazy. What? I don’t want you to ruin the deliciousness going on here, lady. Why would I knowingly let you corrupt my coffee? Geez. Maybe, I should explain the coffee ratios to her–that will totally help me sound less crazy.
Both CBC and I had the Blue Plate Breakfast, which is eggs, toast and hash browns. The eggs were fried just right and the toast was slathered with butter, which makes my tummy happy. But the hash browns? I just don’t get it, Blue Plate.
I’m not sure why the fried potato chunks mixed with onions and bell peppers are even called hash browns. Breakfast fries would be more appropriate. Also they should come with a warning that they are unevenly cooked and the potatoes spend part of their life in a freezer without the onions and bell peppers. You will be able to taste the difference no matter how not-picky-about-potatoes-weird you are.
In the end, it was my best Blue Plate experience, which means they topped out at just above mediocre. There are still other breakfast places in town I like more. But I have a little more faith in this 50s-esque diner on 2100 South 2100 East as long as I bring my man parts.