Hillstone — Restaurant in New York

If it weren't for Ben, the shift manager, this restaurant would be great. But he is so condescending and dismissive of issues. I asked to speak to him because it seemed like they had significantly reduced the ice cream scoop portion for the brownie to the point that it was ruining it, especially for a restaurant that has large portion sizes (and high cost, about $15 for that dessert).

First, Ben said the portion size hadn't changed in the two years he was there. I think he's probably wrong on that, but I said even if it was done more than two years ago, I still think whenever that portion was bigger, it made the dessert a lot better. So I let him know that regardless of the timing (and I've been eating at Hillstone for over 20 years when they were called Houston's), my feedback is still the same.

Then Ben responded that no one else at any Hillstone location has made this same complaint about the brownie dessert. Now, that seemed a bit trolling to me. First, Ben is a shift manager (not the GM) at 1 of 13 Hillstone locations across America, and it seems implausible that Ben is so diligent as to be canvassing all the locations for any customer feedback on ice cream scoop sizes. Further, it's irrelevant who else has my complaint—obviously, my complaint can be evaluated on its merits regardless of who else has also said it (i.e., I shouldn't have to submit a popular complaint to get Ben to respect it). So I told Ben that I don't think I'm a particularly voracious ice cream eater, and so I think my concern is valid based on just evaluating the portion size.

Then I moved on to say that the alternative that our waiter offered me, which was to provide a Sundae sized ice cream scoop on the side for $5, isn't a good solution, because that scoop is about 3x the size of the one that comes with the brownie, and obviously that's going to give the customer a lot more (probably double) ice cream than the brownie dessert needs. Ben then proceeds to act dumb and, in a condescending way, says I'm confusing two different desserts, the Sundae and the Brownie. I told him he misunderstood me, and I hadn't suddenly lost the plot and forgotten what dessert I was giving feedback on, so he asked me to explain what I meant again. When I said from what point he thinks I need to pick up from, he said the point where I said the ice cream portion was too small (in other words, he wanted me to start the whole conversation over from scratch). That was obviously a trolling comment, too. Ben also had the attitude of a smug person whose goal is to try and be more clever than the customer.

In other words, Ben tries to be annoying while in a fake way acting like he's helping.

I think Ben is ill-suited...

Upon entering Hillstone, you're greeted by an ambiance that effortlessly blends sophistication with a welcoming warmth, setting the stage for a dining escapade that's bound to be etched in memory. The air is rich with the promise of culinary delights, and the buzz of conversation suggests an evening well spent in the making. Yet, amidst this picturesque setting, there lurks a plot twist so unexpected it could only unfold in the heart of New York City.

In a bold move that defies the very essence of the city's vibrant cocktail culture, Hillstone has decided to forgo the inclusion of the espresso martini on their menu. Yes, in the year 2024, this decision is as bewildering as finding a New York street without a single pizza joint. It's a choice that leaves one pondering, puzzled, and perhaps a tad peeved.

The espresso martini, a concoction that symbolizes the city's dynamic spirit, serves as a bridge between the zest of nightlife and the allure of gourmet dining. Its absence from Hillstone's menu is akin to Broadway without the marquees—a noticeable void in a place of abundant delights. The question then arises: In a metropolis celebrated for its 'anything goes' attitude, why would Hillstone choose to sidestep this iconic beverage?

Dining at Hillstone, amidst its undeniably charming setting and amidst gastronomical wonders, one can't shake off a feeling of mild betrayal. It's akin to attending a gala in a tuxedo only to realize you're the only one not wearing the theme-appropriate costume. The sensation is disconcerting, yet it adds a layer of intrigue to the evening. As you reluctantly order an alternative drink, a part of you wonders, could this be a clever ruse? A challenge to venture beyond the comfort zone of predictable choices?

This review, while drenched in a concoction of humor and mild frustration, is a tribute to Hillstone's audacity. We applaud your culinary brilliance, the atmosphere you've cultivated, and the impeccable service. Yet, we implore you, dear Hillstone, to reconsider. In a city that thrives on offering every imaginable delight, let us not deprive the denizens of their beloved espresso martini. It's 2024, and in the whirlwind of New York City's endless possibilities, some traditions are too...

I’ve never been to a restaurant where there are so many “policies.” Or where the staff enforces its policies with such condescension and hostility. A partial list of policies based on a few visits: no sitting in empty bar seats without permission (it might be reserved!), ID everyone not visibly geriatric, no sitting until every member of the party arrives, no leaning on the counter, no substitutions without additional charges. And here’s a new “policy” I learned about last time—no seating parties of 6 in a booth. On Saturday night, my family and I were seated comfortably in booth, enjoying cocktails and perusing the dinner menu, when the manager spotted us and stormed over. It is against Hillstone policy for 6 people to sit in a booth, she thundered. 5 is the maximum! Heaven forbid we violate this policy! She told us that one of us must go sit at the bar by himself. (One wonders—does that not violate the bar seat reservation policy?) This was intended as a serious suggestion. Stunned by such officious stupidity, we demanded an explanation. Big mistake. For it is another policy that you are not allowed to question Hillstone policies! (This is actually the most important policy of all). Rather than defend the policy, as one might expect of a manager, she grew furious at our effrontery, completely lost her composure, and told us she would not be spoken to in this way. (She is manager at Hillstone! We are but peasants in comparison!) She ordered us to leave and threatened to call the cops if we didn’t. Before we left, a timid chef came over and explained that the purpose of this policy is to promote a good customer experience. I guess the policymakers at Hillstone believe the experience is best served by creating a disturbance and kicking well-behaved patrons out of the restaurant (rather than allowing 6 people in a booth designated for 5). The ambiance is nice and the food is alright. But I urge future patrons to please carefully review the rulebook (and any explanatory materials) before...