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Fennpfuhlpark,Lichtenberg
4.5
(220)
Ristorante Marco Polo Due
4.3
(710)
$$
Teja Lichtenberg
4.7
(485)
Plötners Café
4.6
(547)
Pizza Lovers - Pizza alla Pala
4.9
(278)
I was at this restaurant with a friend. Went for the Feijoada. The feijoada is served in a really small pot with a huge amount of rice, dry Kale/old and a ready made farofa. When the manager came to ask me how was the food I informed him that the portions were disproportionate and he said I was the first person to ever complain. In add of this the Shrimp Pastel come cold and they replaced. When we asked for the bill he, AT THAT MOMENT, informed us that he was only accepting cash and redirected us to the nearest ATM. When I told him that this should be informed previously he said " Don't worry I know you have money". Now can you imagine if a customer is only with credit card and can't withdraw because I'm a tourist. Honestly poorest customer service I ever had. Also, location is inside a "mall" in a weird...
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Yesterday I visited the restaurant with some friends to have dinner. We orderer food, including appetizers, and got the drinks pretty fast.
But then after 55 minutes of waiting I asked if the food was coming soon. The answer I got was "we are not sure". Then I asked if they had a fast snack to offer and they brought olives, which in the end were also charged.
We waited 70 minutes just to realise that no food was coming out of the kitchen: not for us, not for anyone else in the restaurant.
They apologized a lot, but in the end, the message is simple: don't play with your customers' time and keep them informed. If you can't prepare them food fast, then advise them before they stay and sit.
I will not come back here and would advise others on asking for the waiting time before sitting on a table....
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Bewertung: 0 von 5 Sternen – und das ist noch großzügig
Ich weiß nicht, was ich da gegessen habe, aber ein Entrigosteak war es definitiv nicht. Das, was mir serviert wurde, hatte die Konsistenz und den Geschmack einer alten Schuhsohle, die jahrelang in einer feuchten Garage vor sich hingeschimmelt hat. Jeder Bissen war eine zähe, trockene Qual, als würde man auf einem Autoreifen herumkauen – nur ohne den Charme von frischem Gummi.
Die Beilagen? Falls sie überhaupt aus dieser Dimension stammen, kann ich sie nicht identifizieren. Irgendetwas Undefinierbares, farblich zwischen Aschenbecherinhalt und Krankenhausbrei, geschmacklich im Niemandsland zwischen „gar nichts“ und „bitterer Fehler“.
Und dann diese Teigtaschen… ich schwöre, sie waren tot. Nicht einfach fade, nicht einfach alt – tot. Als hätte man sie vor zehn Jahren in einem Gefrierschrank gefunden, aufgetaut, wieder eingefroren, und dann in einem Akt kulinarischer Grausamkeit in Öl ertränkt.
Dieses Essen war nicht nur schlecht – es war eine kulinarische Beleidigung, eine offene Kriegserklärung an den Gaumen. Wenn ich meinem schlimmsten Feind etwas servieren müsste, wäre es...
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