A Comedy of Errors at Harvester – First and Last Visit

If I could give this Harvester fewer stars, I’d have to invent a black hole rating system. Let’s start from the beginning: I had the distinct pleasure of becoming an honorary member of the staff for the evening. You see, upon arrival, there were no menus to be found, no staff in sight, and a vibe that screamed “every man for himself.” Like a brave explorer in a desolate land, I ventured to the waiter’s station, seized some menus, and distributed them to our party. Next, I took on the role of salad bowl porter, because the Harvester team clearly thought this was a BYO-Everything kind of establishment.

Things went from bad to worse when the food arrived. “Cold and bland” doesn’t quite capture the essence of the meals served to us – they were more of a culinary crime scene. The kids were served meatballs so hard they could’ve been repurposed as cricket balls. When we mentioned this to the staff, we were met with an Olympic-level refusal to take them off the bill. Perhaps Harvester’s motto is “we serve it, you pay for it, no exceptions.”

Then came my pièce de résistance: a Sunday roast featuring raw chicken. Now, I love a plot twist, but I wasn’t expecting salmonella roulette with my lunch. Naturally, I pointed this out to the waitress, who seemed to be auditioning for a role in The Great British Shrug-Off. No apology, no replacement meal, no effort to rectify the situation – just a silent removal of my plate and a tacit agreement that I would be going hungry. Delightful.

The manager? Oh, bless him, he was like a deer in headlights, stumbling around in a fog of chaos, utterly overwhelmed by the bedlam. It was as though he’d been parachuted in from another career entirely – perhaps he was a former juggler who lost control of his balls. Whatever the case, he offered no leadership, no solutions, and certainly no reason to return.

And the crowning glory of this farce? Someone in our party ordered a double espresso and was served two individual espressos – both stone cold. A Harvester twist on the classic riddle: “What’s worse than no coffee? Two bad coffees.” The mind boggles.

It’s safe to say this was my first and last visit to Harvester. If chaos, apathy, and culinary disasters are your thing, this place might be right up your alley. For me, I’ll be taking my appetite elsewhere. Bon appétit – just not here!