Buckle up, mes amis, because the bon temps did not rouler this evening.

Let's start at the beginning; The older gentleman who seated us asked if we wanted a high chair for our one-year-old but then got mad when we said yes. He complained about the space it would take up in the restaurant, despite this being a freezing cold weekday night in January when it was barely a quarter full. We had to argue with him to get the high chair that, lest you forget, he had moments ago offered to us. I would have been offended had it not been so utterly bizarre.

Our server seemed wonderful, though, so no worries. Bon temps back again. We ordered drinks (excellent house Sazerac here, by the way), appetizers, and mains. The oysters du jour came out first and were inexplicably deep fried. No indication on the menu that this would be the case, and the front area showcases staff shucking fresh oysters and plating them up over ice, so I assumed they'd be raw. Maybe it's just me, but the default for every oyster bar I've ever been to has been to serve them raw on the half shell. And yet the assistant manager (not our server) who brought them to the table treated me like a crazy person because I was surprised they were fried to hell and slathered in mayonnaise. After some convincing, he grudgingly took them back and brought the raw versions, which, to be fair, were pretty good. OK, excellent, rough start but things are working out.

The rest of the food comes out, though, and my jambalaya pasta is way, way, waaaaay overcooked. So badly overcooked that the noodles are falling apart (see pic), the chicken is the consistency of styrofoam, and the crawfish barely hold together. A crime against pasta. Visibly bad. But our server disappeared for nearly half an hour -- despite this being an extremely dead weekday dinner in mid-January -- and when she did return, she seemed angry at me when I pointed out the pasta was messed up. She didn't ask me if I wanted a fixed version or another entree, but just said "OK," took the plate, and ghosted us for another 10 minutes. She came back and said she'd have to ask her manager if she could remove it -- and mind you, she already took said dish away and offered no replacement, so I didn't even have the terrible pasta that I might still have to pay for. But they did, in fact, take it off the check, so points for that. And so we left about as fast as we could

Look, I get it. I was a server for many, many years, so I know restaurants can have off nights and that kitchens can mess up dishes and that customers can be difficult. But that many years in the industry also means that I know poor customer service when I see it, and boy was the service here poor, from multiple people and for no good reason. Maybe I'm the villain of this story (I'm mortified by sending back two different things in the same meal), but even if I am, it doesn't excuse the sore lack of professionalism on display.

Get it together, my friends.