Jack Sprat — Restaurant in Alaska

Jack Sprat is precisely the kind of posh(ish) place my dear companion and I like to try, but unfortunately I wasn't with her; I was with my silly little family, precisely the kind of people that do not like to try posh(ish) places like Jack Sprat.

I dug the exterior patio, which features one big fire bowl for one lucky table to keep warm by / keep the bugs away by / keep their eyes dry by. I dug the interior, too, which was dimly lit and well decorated. I did not dig the latrine, however, which was decidedly not posh. It was a pot out of place like a fish out of water. My family was a fish out of water, too, sitting in this poshish restaurant (seated immediately, without a reservation), looking at the fancy menus, finding nothing to their fancy, wishing we'd gone to the burger joint instead. I was like a fish out of water as well, sitting with this family, looking at the same fancy menu and fancying almost everything. And I wanted a fish out of water on my plate, too, this being Alaska. Finally, our lovely waitress was a bit of a fish out of water. At first I (mis)took her for a Brit, but then her accent faltered and I mulled she was faking it for to further poshen up the place a little b(r)it. I am one to fake an accent myself and might have put her back in the water if I'd have had the stones. Alas, I did not. My family and I whispered about her. Where was she from? When I'm in character and somebody asks me where I'm from I either pull a place from my bum (e.g. "Dorshire") or I deftly defuse any faltering on my own part by providing some backstory about how I was raised between two worlds, i.e. in the UK and in “the states.” Lo and behold, what did the waitress say when one of our party inquired as to her origin story? She was torn between two worlds, born in Australia unto British parents! Would that my dear companion had been there, for she is wont to be Australian and I am wont to be British; quite a time we would have had with that quasi-posh waitress. Alas, I was not.

I had half a mind to get the Octopus something-or-other and wasabi brussel sprouts, another half-mind for the Halibut; ultimately I opted to splurge on the Bouillabaisse, the likes of which I'd never had or heard of before. I immediately regretted my decision. Whatever it was, it was too much. And then it arrived. Whatever it was, it wasn't enough. You know how posh places are about portions. Looks deceived me, however, for in the end the Bouillabaisse turned out to be perfectly satisfying in concert with the side of kimchi I ordered (read: pickled things) and the extra bit of bread I received courtesy of my brother (PBC), something I needed to mop up the lovely soup juice at the bottom of my shallow bowl. If you don't know what Bouillabaisse is, it is a fish stew dish, in this case containing halibut, king crab, prawns, and scallops, all glued together in a fine sauce of perfect consistency. This was a truly delicious dish, and I enjoyed it despite my misgivings about the price and the portion size. I still didn't want to see my parents foot the bill, though, and we were vacationing in Alaska in part for Father's Day and my mother's birthday, so I footed the whole entire bill against their wishes. Our lovely accent-fluid waitress was helpful with this, refusing my father's advances because I'd got to her first. All said and done, for $130 we got the delightful Bouillabaisse, an exquisite Rib Eye dinner which fed both my mother and sister, Focaccia (read: poshish pizza) for PBC (along with infinity soda pops, of course), and a fresh salad for my father who for some reason (probably the price tag) didn't want an excellent Rib Eye for Father's Day. Anyway, we all ate well in the end, and I was actually happy to pay for dinner, even happier to treat my silly little fish of a family to a poshish place outside of its watery comfort zone.

“Jack Sprat will eat not fat, and Jull doth love no leane. Yet betwixt them both they lick the...

You are not welcome here alone.

I waited at the hostess stand outside and was ignored by the server. Eventually, I stepped inside and the staff all looked directly at me as they yelled at each other over the blaring music so I continued to wait patiently. After a while a couple came in, also confused, wondering if I was the hostess.

Finally a woman in a red coat stepped uncomfortably close to my face, cleaning her teeth with her tongue (as apparently we had interrupted her eating), asking the man behind me if we’d like a table for 3. I said one and she made no effort but to direct me to the seat at the end of the bar directly behind the door. Not sure how anyone sits there without the door hitting them. Presumably the lack of space in the entryway was the reason for her awkward proximity to my person?

4:50pm on a lovely sunny Sunday afternoon, there was only one other couple recently sat, one couple with doggie boxes preparing to leave, a guy at the other end of the five seat bar already drunk and loudly monopolizing the bartender - one of six employees in the place who couldn’t be bothered to even acknowledge my presence with a smile or head nod or greeting. A sea of empty tables…

I have been dreaming of coming back here for nearly a decade that I was away from Alaska. I finally got the opportunity to come, circumstantially by myself, and in anticipation dressed nice for the treat I had been looking forward to for so long. But Yikes! How enjoyable would a meal be crammed into a one-foot square space in the corner, on a stool, behind the main door, next to a sloppy drunk, in a deafening environment where the entire staff wantonly ignore you? Why would anyone want or pay for that experience?! No thanks!

As I sat in my car deciding on an alternative, the hostess stood outside at her post and glared directly at me. Strange.

It’s definitely no longer the place that had been so...

Cool locale, atmosphere and seemingly sharp customer oriented staff(initially). First ordered Mezze Plate for our app which was a broad range of fresh flavors, one of the better I’ve had. For my entree I ordered the Pad Thai though I first thought I’m in AK and I don’t feel such a mountain side spot would yield a such flavorful Thai dish. I thought don’t judge a book by it's cover or location as I’ve had amazing dishes in unsuspecting places. Well, I should have stuck with my instinct, it was the worst “Thai” wanna be dish I’ve experienced throughout extensive global travels. I’d recommend a freezer burned insta meal Pad Thai over this dish in a heartbeat. If you do expect a DRY, SALTY, LIMEY and utterly unappetizing plate then order this sham of a meal. Even after sending it back to the kitchen calmly the first time they merely tossed in more lime juice and a salty soy sauce like substance/poor shortcut for an already below par dish. Even after I barely took two more bites the server who will remain nameless still charged me even after I explained that I didn’t like the dish at all and didn’t want it. I heard the server and cocky kitchen staff cackling at my polite objection to the meal. Apparently the staff is more obliged to please each other and quick to crack jokes at customer’s expense than do what’s right and remove the meal from the bill. Instead, I paid $34.00 for a salty dry far from Thai dish and the restaurant server made no attempt at customer satisfaction. For what it’s worth I’ve worked in restaurants for over 10yrs and when a customer politely turns back their dish, “they are ALWAYS right”...it’s an old rule but it’s true and pays in the long run. Here I am writing my first negative restaurant review ever. Jack Sprat your food is Overrated and your attitudes belong in high school. All the best to keep that place afloat in...