Ever been in a place that thinks it’s “all that” when in reality it’s just scraping the bottom of “average”?

This is one of those places.

The kind of place that puts the froo in “froufrou.”

And enjoys it.

I’d never been here before and wasn’t expecting such a breakfast-heavy menu. So I mentioned to the waitress that I might just mosey down the street to find something different.

You’d think I’d insulted her mother.

“We’re ranked the 12th best brunch in the country,” she huffed.

OK. Fine with me. Though one would think number 12 in the country would get more than 4.6 stars on Google reviews.

So I ordered the Reuben. With a side salad.

“I’m trying to stay low carbs,” I said. “So can I get that with one piece of bread.”

“Yep. No problem. Side salad?”

“Great.”

The food came in a few minutes, and things went farther downhill.

An open face Reuben. Two pieces of bread.

Burned bread. Like, black crust burned.

Salad looked good. And it would’ve been, maybe, if it hadn’t been drenched in what tasted like a vinaigrette straight out of the bottle.

And speaking of dressing, was that really Russian dressing on the Reuben? Because it definitely could’ve been Thousand Island.

Sadly, I left half the salad. I hate wasting food.

I also hate trying to have a meal in a restaurant where your water glass gets down to empty, as mine did here.

I asked huffy waitress for a refill, somehow triggering her.

She snapped something, filled the glass and plopped it, huffily, back on the table.

Wow.

I dine out a lot, and this was about the worst dining experience I’ve had anywhere in a long, long time.