Well. This blog post will be difficult to compose. Y'all know I have always attempted to find the positive aspects of our dining out meals. I will do the same with this review.
First, I'll state that our food was delicious. I should say, what food we received was delicious.
Next door to this establishment is the Italian Kitchen which was the original restaurant. I believe their menu is mostly pizzas and sandwiches. The owners, at some point, decided to open this adjacent restaurant separated with a courtyard with picnic tables with umbrellas.
Our first mistake was thinking with "supper club" in the title, this would be an intimate, low lighting, just a few tables cozy restaurant. We were correct on one thing; there are just a few tables.
Our second mistake was when we entered the small (very small) dining room and realized there was either a wedding rehearsal group or a we just got married group of about 15 people taking over half of the restaurant. We SHOULD have realized that this was going to overwhelm kitchen and staff, but we had our hearts set on trying this place. We discussed and decided we could wait patiently and sip some wine and relax.
No, we couldn't. There is no wine or alcohol served here, but it is BYOB which is what the wedding party had done. In a cooler with lots of Ultras and White Claw and a few bottles of wine. You ask how does she know what was in the cooler? It will become obvious as you continue reading.
I glanced at the (uncomfortably close to us) table beside ours and noticed a 20 oz. bottle of coke and a bottle of Milo's tea. So if we order tea, it's going to be in a plastic single serving bottle? We'll have water, please.
Finally a server appears and tells us that things are hectic, but she'll do the best she can. We decide we'll order some meatballs to start and maybe let the wedding party order and get situated. We'll order our meal after the meatballs.
The homemade meatballs can be ordered three, six, or twelve. We ordered three. It took about 15 minutes for them to arrive at the table. We inquired if there was any bread available. We were told that it was being baked.
Again, let me repeat, the food was delicious! From my seat, I could see directly into the kitchen. The young man (chef) was working like crazy in that kitchen. But during the 15 minutes we waited on the meatballs to be delivered to our table, I watched them sit on the counter while the server(s) did their best to handle the wedding party's situation and also the tables in the courtyard area. I literally could have taken 10 steps and brought them to our table myself, but I figured that would be frowned upon or maybe no one would have even noticed.
The meatballs were large and very flavorful! The marinara sauce had a touch of heat flavorwise, but unfortunately not much heat temperaturewise due to hanging out on the counter before being delivered to us.
As we attempted to eat the remaining sauce with our forks due to no bread at the table, I heard the next door table inquiring as to where THEIR bread was. In the oven still baking along with ours.
As our now empty meatball bowl was being removed from the table, the bread was delivered. Yes, now we had bread.
The bread was HOT (it just came out of the oven remember) and the herbed olive oil was very good.
We took the opportunity of having our server at the table to order the remainder of our meal.
We chose a caprese salad to share. More on this later because it came out AFTER my meal was delivered to the table. My meal? What about Sweet Harold's meal? More on THAT later.....
At this point, our next door neighbors' table was having their own fun issues. One diner's entree was delivered, but he hadn't received his salad yet. They still didn't have any bread. The other diner didn't have his entree at all. I'm sensing a theme here.
Meanwhile, the wedding party is hitting the cooler hard and beginning to party. More power to them, but I really don't need to hear that kind of foul language while I'm wondering where my salad is, you know?
The server at their table is trying her best and at one point I thought she was the one in charge of the dining room. But then I heard her tell them it was her third day and she was doing her best. Alrighty then.
On one of her trips to the kitchen, she asked if we would like a dessert. Well, ma'am, considering we haven't had our salad or entree, not yet.
Next door table's problems continue. Diner #1 is finished with his meal as Diner #2's entree is delivered. Still no salad for Diner #1 so they request that it be boxed to go. And can they please having their bill?
About this time, wedding party's salads are being delivered and that appeases them for a few minutes.
And we wait.
And wait.
Next door table finally gets their bill, but they wait and wait for server to come back to get their money.
About this time some of the parents with small kids with the wedding party decide it's time to take the kids home to go to bed, so there's an exodus of parents and kiddos out the door without their main course. But they did have salad so there's that.
About this time, next door table tells us goodbye and wishes us luck. We thank them and realize we do need that luck.
My entree is delivered! Shrimp Scampi over Fettuccine.
The flavors were balanced and there were six shrimp which could have used a little more time in the skillet (they were a tad pale), and I believe those are spaghetti noodles? But at this point, I would have eaten this dish if there had been elbow noodles in that bowl.
Wait? Sweet Harold's lasagna? The server tells us the salad will be right out and his lasagna is almost ready!!
12 minutes later our salad finally appears.
Beautiful presentation, but those tomatoes could have used about 2 more days of ripening and Sweet Harold did have to go in search of a salt grinder, but by this time, everything odd was beginning to seem normal.
One of the wedding party goes in search of their food. She's very adamant that they are starving and need their food. I wanted to point out she had her salad delivered 40 minutes ago along with extra bread, but decided to stay out of that situation.
Still no lasagna.
Then we notice that there are several people over 15 minutes or so that are bringing in pizzas in boxes from the establishment next door. They are taken to the kitchen and within minutes, they are being delivered to the wedding party group. So, if OUR kitchen isn't preparing their food, what it the problem with OUR food?
Still no lasagna.
By this point, I have retrieved an unused salad plate from our next door neighbor's table and give Sweet Harold half my Shrimp Scampi spaghetti.
Wedding party is really having fun now with one of the diners rising from his place at the table and is regaling the group with many stories of his teenage/college years. Many stories. The Ultras and White Claws are being passed around big time at this point.
28 minutes later, still no lasagna. I request that the order be canceled since we having finished sharing my dinner.
15 minutes later we're told the lasagna is ready and would we like it FREE since it took so long. No thank you, Sweet Harold replied emphatically. Now when SH says ANYTHING emphatically, you know he's reached his point of being finished with the situation.
Our server then told us that she should have told us when we came in that they couldn't serve us. Well, that would have been helpful, but a little too late now.
We were then asked if we would like dessert. Now we had planned on trying the cannolis or tiramisu. But because we didn't want to wait until midnight, we declined.
The food we did receive was delicious. But our imagined quite, intimate dinner at an Italian restaurant wasn't meant to be.
Here's the menu. If you're in Port St. Joe and have plenty of time and want a floor show WITH your dinner (or whatever parts of your dinner you order), this is the place for you.
We've discussed this evening a few times and we still don't know who, if anyone, was in charge. Considering I had a full view of the kitchen and the cook/chef, I know he was doing his best to get the food out, but there was no leadership or direction being given.
Oh goodness. We call those one and dones. Been there once, won't go back.
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