I’m not talking about the food – that’s why I parked this topic here, but … a meal where something went horribly wrong (but in a way that’s funny), or something crazy or strange or cringy happened, and you just can’t forget about it.
I think I might have a couple, but I would love to hear yours, too!
A’ight. Here’s a couple examples of what I mean.
HS graduation trip to Florence: a dinner at a cute neighborhood trattoria in the basement of a very old building in the Altrarno that ended with the drains slowly flooding while bringing up a considerable amount of cockroaches. I remember a lot of well-dressed ladies screaming and jumping off their chairs. It was quite the hubbub. I have no recollection of what we ate that night 
Then there was the time when former CH @buttertart and her hubster enjoyed a nice prix fixe dinner with us at the now defunct Marigold Kitchen in Philly. Again, no memory of the food served, but our waiter was an absolute enigma. He would show up at our table, presenting each dish with great flourish while announcing what we were about to eat. The problem was that he started off enthusiastically and intelligibly, then quickly descended into what can only be described as mumblecore. We would all lean in his direction, hoping to catch even just part of his descriptions, but no dice. This continued throughout the entire meal, and the tipsier we got, the more we started giggling at each new plate presented. The server may have been a little taken aback…
My lady and I were married 5 years when I saw a tv piece that the butler to Millicent Fenwick, Arthur Scheppins, was retiring from her household but starting a breakfast service where you could hire him, a “professional butler” to come to your home, cook in your kitchen and serve you a 3 course breakfast or dinner. I booked an anniversary breakfast. After Arthur provided a wonderful morning meal, complete with the place settings, food and cleanup. He sat with us over the last bit of coffee and shared what his career and life was all about. He was 65 at that time. His service fee was $150.00 in 1987. His company was priceless. I will never forget the fun and the honor. The “restaurant” was our first bungalow home. Arthur loved our modest, newlywed space after decades in a mansion.
That’s a great story! What a fabulous anniversary gift, too!
Thank you for sharing 
I’ll have to think a bit on this one . . . I’m old enough and have dined enough that I’m sure there are a few repressed memories hiding in the shadows.
One I can remember was along the lines of your Marigold experience (maybe a Philly thing)? There’s a very nice, somewhat stuffy historic inn in the burbs of Philly. I was there with a friend, a cousin and our moms–probably a mother’s day outing, but most definitely not on the day itself (we’re not that crazy). I’ve dined there many times as had the others. But this day, the waiter was over the top . . . Like reciting the specials of the day as if he were rehearsing for a particularly wrought Shakespearean role. Every course, even the bread, was presented with a flourish and full description despite the fact we were well aware of what we had ordered. The dessert cart was a fifteen minute dissertation on the wonders of their pastry chef. The more wine was poured, the harder it was to stifle the giggles.
We still laugh at “now playing the role of your waiter is Kevin.” I never saw him there again–I hope he found his dream role.
Oh, that reminds me of another one. Dining with a few friends at a restaurant in the Chestnut Hill section of Philadelphia. This was years ago and despite the fact that I had eaten there often, I forget the name. Anyway, it was a favorite at the time with good food and drinks and a nice outdoor dining area. The meal in question we were dining inside and saw a mouse scurry across the crowded dining room. Apparently the staff had either seen or been told of it. So a big guy enters the dining room with a broom and mashes the rodent in one fell swoop. Certainly not the first time he had done that. Certainly the last time we patronized the restaurant. Oddly it has since closed.
OMG. The poor mouse. Ida tossed my cookies 
I don’t recall, but I doubt we finished our meal that day. Now I stick to the Tavern on the Hill or the hotel.
Some folks may remember back to the 80’s a phenomenon known as Ed Debevic’s, one of Chicago’s Lettuce Entertain You restaurant group. The schtick was that it was an old 50’s diner with sassy waitresses that called you ‘hun’ etc. They would loudly crack jokes, get impatient if you didn’t order right away, it was a whole thing.
Naturally, this meant every actor in the city has a job at Debevic’s, since you could spend your shift improv-ing.
My dipshit high school friends and I went in one evening. We were all theater kids. We were all in on playing along. Our waiter was especially on that night. Very funny. At the end, we’re handing him cash and I ask “Can you break a $10?” He does so. My friends hands him a bowl of uneaten Jello that had come as a ‘side’ for one of us. “Can you break a jello?”
Without missing a beat he grabbed the jello in his hand and held it above his face, where he proceeded to squish it through his finger and (mostly) into his mouth.
We lost it laughing. We tipped well. It was a fun night.
In '92 I went to Ecuador alone. Loved all the food and friendly folks; but, I was in Quito. Wanted to see the coast. Rented an International Scout and drove through and down the mountains. “Comida casera de mariscos” (homemade seafood) read the sign by the shack. It was a schack. You could see through the walls. No menu. Everyone had the same “caldo de mariscos.” The big ole bowl comes with a huge crab centered in the bowl of broth, with prawns adorning just under the rim. Oysters and mussels harmonized. No private seating, so you just sat at a big table and had your meal. Met so many nice people because of that arrangement. The smell, the flavor, the social and rolling on my own…he kind of independance you only get a few times in life. But that meal…one of the moments I felt most blessed to be alive. I always think of it when I hear Coming Down the Mountain -Jane’s Addiction.
Reminds me … when I was 18, my parents were living in Quito, my father assigned there with US State Department. My father and I took a special tourist train that took a very scenic route through the jungle from Quito to Guayaquil on the coast. Quito is 10,000 feet above sea level, cold in the mornings so we would have a fire going in the fireplace.
Guayaquil was like a totally different country, tropical, men in white suits and Panama hats (made in Ecuador).
My father had made business trips to Guayaquil before so he’d been to the Palace Hotel for lobster thermidor. What a wonderful dish, huge tail stuffed with creamy lobster, probably cooked with sherry. Sublime.
On that trip we also went down to the docks to look for big stalks of green bananas for sale. Funny thing … my father really didn’t eat bananas but he liked to buy them. He even owned a special curved banana slicing knife. He had his stalk sent to Quito and he’d let it ripen on the patio, then cut away bunches to gift to friends.
I’m late to the thread and may have told this story before, but here goes.
My wife’s parents were visiting the year after we moved here to watch with us (on TV) my wife’s college play in the NCAA men’s basketball tournament.
They only rarely make it into the tournament at all, and at the time of the meal had made it to the sweet 16, so went out to a Mexican restaurant that styled itself as a sportsbar to watch their next game.
One of the patrons ordered steak fajitas and asked for habanero peppers in the mix. He was sitting front of house so the smoking cast iron left a capsaicin-laden trail of smoke from front to back, and the restaurant had to be evacuated, staff included.
Except the guy who’d ordered the dish. I could see him through the front window, calmly eating, but occasionally dabbing at his eyes.
It only took them 10 minutes to clear the air (opened back and front doors and set up a big Vornado to pull air through), but in that time we missed my wife’s team manage a shocking upset, at the last second, to move on to the elite 8.
That’s a great story!
September 1974 lunch at Sam Wo’s in ‘the City’. Bit down on an odd piece in the noodle dish. I don’t know what it was, and probably never will. Our waiter Edsel, berated me for even ordering the noodle dish when I brought this to his attention. Otherwise we had a wonderful day visiting a friend and playing ‘tourist’.
One the best restaurant experiences of my life was having panfried abalone and bedspring potatoes for a birthday dinner (I was like 8) at the original TV’s in Oakland. I think Shirley Temples with extra cherries were involved, too.
That sounds like it might have been a memorable restaurant experience for a LOT of people!
Man, that’s great.
Aw jeez. The last time we had pan-fried abalone (pounded and breaded) was at a casino dinner show in the last Millennium.
Have to think hard for all of them but these I remember well. Maybe not as interesting for others but memorable to me. Many are travel related as it happens, both for business and pleasure.
London Barrafina: I was solo (work) and having a great time chatting with a local couple next to me at the bar. We ended up going into town drinking cocktails.
Kennebunkport: sitting at George W Bush sr favourite table in some local casual lobster restaurant. Just felt special and wonderful area as well.
Singapore: Marina Bay Sands for a conference, I think 2014. Total excess in eating and drinking, having one wing of the rooftop to ourselves. Champagne bar and all. Then we went to Wolfgang Puck’s restaurant in the adjacent mall (!) where I experienced the most crazy free flow ever of lobster, oysters and steak. Literally a 5 ft mountain of seafood.
Barcelona: a six hour lunch at the bar at Ciudad Condal.
This year celebrating a big birthday with my family and little kid in my hometown was also nice.
For my 12th birthday, my Dad took me to the Sportsman’s Lodge in Sherman Oaks for a celebration dinner. This was March of 1973. During the meal, our waiter comes to our table and says, “You know, Marlon Brando is dining over at that table (points to large semicircular booth near us), you should go over and ask for his autograph.” My Dad was like, “yeah, yeah, you should do it.” So my 9 year old little brother and I sheepishly walk over to the booth, where there were five people sitting, (including Sacheen Littlefeather) and I meekly said “Excuse me, which one of you is Marlon Brando?” Needless to say, I did not get the autograph.
In April of 1981, I took my college girlfriend to Chez Panisse to celebrate our anniversary. I recall that our entrée for the evening was an entrecote of beef. However, what was most memorable is that I wrote a personal check to the restaurant in the amount of $53.25 for our two meals.
That brought back a great memory – on my first trip to San Francisco a well-traveled friend recommended going to Sam Wo’s and specifically asking to be waited on by Edsel. To this day I still remember Edsel yelling and chasing after a customer who (Edsel felt) didn’t tip him enough.
