"Keep in mind, for two days I so looked forward to this meal…. The family with the baby, and the mistakenly assumed American tourists, were seated in front of the bathroom. Not by it, but eighteen inches in front of farts and flushing toilets. Next, we were offered menus in English and stupidly, accepted. The waitstaff apologized that they were not updated (hand written and slid in a high school term paper plastic sleeve), and if that were not distasteful enough, they were dingy dirty. I should have left. Right then, I should have left. Half of what we tried to order from the menu was no longer being offered. [I really should have left. Eventually, I figured out that the beef filet was available and that’s what I settled on; asking for medium rare and the balsamic drizzle on the side. My husband ordered sea bass, which he calls sea trout, and the Italian fish markets sell as Branzino. Moving on…. My beef filet was equivalent to a second rate, unseasoned, round steak cut. Medium rare was served medium. And all was drenched in balsamic vinegar. My husband’s fish was fine. Just fine. Served flabby white skin topside, and a mediocre assortment of vegetables underneath. The one redeeming quality of our experience was the baby at the table beside us. In fairness, the staff offered to exchange or remake my steak. But frankly, I just couldn’t see myself digging the hole even deeper. We paid, exited, and looked right… Pizza! A delicious smelling pizza restaurant steps away. We ran to the aroma…."
