The Ginger Pig — Restaurant in Denver

This was my third visit to The Ginger Pig.

The first time was shortly after they opened. My family and I ate tofu and noodles alone in the dining room. Good, but not memorable. The second time was post-Michelin recognition—chaotic, loud. We ordered at the counter, waited, and got decent food. I don’t remember what I had, but it wasn’t bad.

This time was different.

The Parking Lot Battle The parking lot is a mess. The restaurant shares space with an abandoned realtor’s office, and the uneven asphalt has few marked spots. We picked a space. As we got out, someone told us we were in a drive-through area. I didn’t remember this rule, but I moved the car. After a six-point turn, I found another spot. As we walked back, a Grubhub driver parked exactly where we had been.

Settling In It was 6:00 pm on a sunny 60-degree Denver evening. The setting sun warmed the picnic tables. We were first on the list for an indoor table but chose to sit outside. We had just played tennis and were in shorts and t-shirts. It would get cold, but how long could stir-fry take?

Years ago, I lived in San Francisco’s Sunset District, a block from Thanh Long, one of the first Vietnamese restaurants in the U.S., famous for its roast Dungeness garlic crab and garlic noodles. My daughter ordered them here.

A half-block from Thanh Long was Ho’s, my favorite Chinese takeout. I always got Kung Pao beef. By the time I grabbed my fleece and walked over, the food was ready—$4.95 for stir-fry that lasted two days. And it was unforgettable. Better than anything at The Ginger Pig. But I’m old and nostalgic. Can I fault them for not measuring up to a Chinatown dive?

The Wait Twenty minutes in, no drinks. Our order was 70. Tables 71 and 72 already had theirs. We checked inside. “Didn’t print at the bar or something.” Did the kitchen have our order? Yes, they assured us.

It was getting cold. My 9-year-old was starving. It was a school night. Our dog was home unfed. If the kitchen hadn’t received the order, we would’ve left. But they insisted all was fine.

I grabbed a blanket from the car. Meanwhile, the tables around us got appetizers, then entrées. The sun set. Takeout drivers cycled through, grabbing bags of food. “It’ll be out soon,” we were told.

We moved inside to a row of unseated chairs near the entrance—cold, but better than outside.

We asked again. “Noodles take longer.” But the table next to us, who ordered noodles after us, had already finished and left.

An hour after ordering, our food arrived. Frustrated, we asked if they had lost our order. “No, noodles just take time.” I told the woman I didn’t believe her. Honestly, I hoped she was lying—because the alternative is that drink orders get lost, stir-fry takes an hour, and takeout is prioritized over diners.

A lost order is a mistake. An hour for Chinese food is inexcusable.

The Food & The Bill The food? Fine. The garlic noodles weren’t as al dente or garlic-forward as Thanh Long’s. My rice noodles were spicy but too sweet. The Thai dishes aren’t as good as Ubon in Highland Square. The atmosphere? Awful—bad parking, a cold, loud dining room, and an odd counter-service system.

Some math: We ordered three entrées—$22, $20, and $18—plus a Topo Chico and a draft IPA. The bill was $86. Either we were overcharged or hit with a service fee, which is odd for counter service. We didn’t ask—we just wanted to get to our warm car.

We won’t be back.

• Not only was the owners response not accurate of the timing of events it did not include an apology for losing the drink order, the order taking over 1 hour to prepare (AFTER placing the order), the 2 groups ordering at the counter AFTER US eating appetizers, entrees, paying and leaving prior to our receiving our meal, the food being mediocre, the restaurant being loud, the restaurant being cold, the 3rd world parking, the staff smugly lying about noodle cook time or the over charging on the bill.

Instead, notice how skillfully they claim to be a victim due to our frustration rather than admit any fault. It explains the...

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