Do You Have Reservations? Boy, Do I!

As I entered Johnny Carino's Restaurant in Amarillo, I had a vague recollection of having had a past bad experience there and, when I looked at the floor, which seemed not to have had a mop passed over it in a month, my trepidation grew. But, after all, Johnny Carino's has a high visibility, is a major chain and the decor is tastefully crafted, so I thought I'd give them another chance.

The first setback was in the bathroom where I found no soap in the dispenser. I informed my waitress and ordered my lunch, a meal of Italian sausages (there being no traditional spaghetti and meatballs dish available) with a side of sauteed mushrooms.

Much to my surprise the mushrooms arrived about ten minutes ahead of my entree and, when my entree arrived, I found the "marinara" sauce a tad on the spicy side, tasting almost like Mexican salsa. This prompted me to wonder whether this was a specific sort of Italian cuisine. Because of the pictures of Tuscany on the wall, I asked if the sauce were Tuscan style. The waitress looked at me in puzzlement.

I suggested it could be Sicilian, Bolognese, Romano, Florentine, Napolitano or some other regional flavor, to which she replied, "Let me ask the manager or the cook." Upon her return I realized the manager and the cook knew not what they were serving as neither could answer the question.

I returned to the lavatory again and discovered there was still no soap. I slipped into the stall and found no latch on the door, which swung wide open. I reached for a wad of carta igienica with which to wedge the door closed and the broken dispenser cover flew open and the toilet paper rolled across the floor.

I later learned that my cousin Judy had had a similar experience with this chain (an English word that John Roman might translate as "stay away"). She and her family went to Johnny Carino's for her birthday several years ago and they were seated next to the condiment station. All during their meal they were interrupted by waitresses who flitted by for salt and pepper, grated cheese, napkins and so forth, and yet it never seemed to occur to them to ask if Judy, Joe or Emilie might actually want some cheese.

Finally an entree was brought -- but only one. Two of the party sat and watched the other one eat. then arrived the other two entrees, though one was cold and had to be returned to the kitchen. When the waitress brought it back it was still cold!

I cannot help but wonder, if there are so many shortcomings visible to the customers, how many more might be occurring in the kitchen. In bed that night, the answer came to me when I suddenly felt the firm grip of Mussolini's fist clutching my abdomen.

Do you have a similar experience you'd like to share? Send an e-mail to Judy for publication. We'll give 'em the what-for!