I was trying to think how to present an account of something that happened at tonight's dinner at Hopleaf-- which, unbelievably even to me, I had never been to before tonight-- and all I can think to do is present it factually and let you, the reader decide.
I go in and meet my party. I try to order a draft beer, off the impressive, almost comically detailed draft beer list. I have to wait for the bartenders to do approximately one trillion other things before they can bark "Whaddleya have" at me. I'm okay with that, the place is insanely busy. I order one of the impressively talked-up beers on the card. She goes over to the wall of a hundred different glasses and selects one shaped like the Treaty of Ghent or something, I dunno. So far, great, the glasses selection is, you must admit, one of those things that's so over the top you can't help but be impressed.
Then, she glances at the tap nearest me, does not see the beer there (there are two other taps, each with a different assortment), and reaches down to the fridge and grabs a bottle, pops it and hands it to me.
Frankly, I'm not even sure I got the same thing I ordered. I kind of think it might have been same brewery, different beer. But in any case, I just say to her, as I pay, "You know, I'm fine with this but I ordered a draft beer, off the draft beer list." Try to guess her response:
A) "I'm sorry sir, would you like me to get you a draft beer instead?"
B) "I'm sorry sir, we seem to be out of that beer listed and described for a paragraph and a half on the cards set up every 18 inches along this bar, which any reasonable person would regard as completely current. You're entirely right, I should have asked first before opening a bottle as a substitute."
C) "If we'd
had it on tap I would have
given it to you on tap, wouldn't I?"
The answer is C, or F.U. is perhaps a more apt letter designation for it. In any case, it was, I'm pretty sure, the first time I have ever stormed out of a bar leaving a beer mostly undrunk behind, out of sheer lividness at the way I have been treated as a customer.
Credit to G Wiv for then speaking to her, or possibly someone else, and calling me a few minutes later to inform me that a beer on the house awaited me. (Credit to somebody at the Hopleaf for that too.) And our meal, once we left the bar area, was very nice-- excellent frites and mussels, fairly good if somewhat tough steak, and decent but somewhat bland rabbit stew; and an entirely pleasant waitress to boot. (On the other hand, when I tried to keep my little pot of aioli in between courses, the busboy--
the busboy-- gave me a contemptuous look somewhere between the one he gives the person who asks for ketchup for his frites, and the one he gives the person who's caught stealing deodorant cakes from the urinals.)
Anyway, I was amused (and exaggerated for effect) the service at San Soo Gap San, filing it under the vagaries of ethnic dining; but this is another matter entirely, and given the number of past comments about service there, I kind of think that the Hopleaf doesn't need any more awards, no matter how good the food can be and how impressive the beer list undoubtedly is.