I don’t consider myself a “foodie” by any means, nor do I usually write out my reviews on restaurants (usually just verbal praise/scolding). But this place earned a review on a public forum. Went to this little spot in Freehold Boro for the big man’s birthday (shout out to you pops!). Read a couple of reviews online as I often do before trying out a new place. There were a lot of mixed reviews, most were good. Freehold Boro has some of the best restaurants in the area, and going out to eat is always a great time, so naturally I was excited. We sat down at a table that was literally adjacent to the kitchen. Like the booth opening faced one of the kitchen expo counters. They have no business having a table over there, let alone making ME sit there. They obviously didn’t know who I was. It was also one million degrees in the restaurant. No worries because it smelled great and the live mariachi band was putting down some JAMS. But things quickly took a turn for the worse.
I had to ask the waiter for water. I HAD TO ASK THE WAITER FOR WATER. One of the most insane things I’ve ever witnessed in my life. Years ago I realized that I was confident that I would never do crystal meth and that I would never have to ask the waiter at a restaurant for water. One of those things happened saturday at Little Bit of Cuba (might have been two but they didn’t have any crystal meth). Having to ask for water at any eatery is so beyond the realm of normality that it hurts. I’m not saying the water should be on the table when we sit down, but as soon as my ass hits the chair and we get settled, dude has to come over and say “Hi my name is ___, I’ll be your server tonight. Can I start you with something to drink?” Water is the first thing, automatically, every single time. I was heated. We didn’t get bread for 20 minutes. My thoughts about waiting for bread for so long subside, and my attention shifts to the waiter. I don’t know his name (because he never told us), but I ponder how he sleeps at night knowing that he waits for customers to request water. Unbelievable.
We had to order the entrees with the appetizers, something I believed to be illegal until this weekend. It’s some kind of “restaurant policy”, one that I don’t agree with at all. Appetizers were good, especially the lobster empanadas and the chorizo. Very good, actually. The tide seems to be changing. I ordered a steak with a chimichurri sauce, medium rare. I probably could have picked something better, maybe a fish dish, but I figured they’d nail a skirt steak with a fire sauce. They did not. Undercooked, underseasoned, and also was served around room temperature. I was rather dissatisfied with my meal, but everyone else seemed to enjoy theirs. And the bites that I sampled from everyone’s plates were delightful. After literally disappearing for probably a half hour, Waiter Boy was cleaning up around us while we were still eating, wiping down the table, asking if we were finished and reaching for our plates. Relax, bro. That’s not how it works. Whatever. Dessert was delicious. And the birthday song was maybe the best I’ve ever seen. As much as I enjoy the Applebee’s rendition, the live band singing happy birthday across the restaurant was hilarious and awesome beyond belief.
I’m really not that hard to please at a restaurant. Get waters on the able asap, bring me bread, cook my steak correctly, and I won’t have many complaints. Can’t mess up the fundamentals. Bye.