How difficult is it to make a crepe?
Well, it might as well be rocket science if you’re dining at the newest cafe-restaurant which just opened up at Tivoli Village, in Summerlin. Wanna’ guess what the name of this new place is? Try this: The Crepe.
The most outrageous thing about our lunchtime visit today was — WE NEVER GOT ANY CREPES!
Maybe they should rename this place The Air. Or, The Wait. That was the full extent of our lunch. I’ll say this, it’s one helluva good place to go on a diet and lose weight. Everything on the menu is low-fat. Er, make that no fat.
Here’s what happened.
Marieta and I have been seeking out an acceptable crepe restaurant for years. So far, the only place in town that gets it right is the Paris Casino (big surprise), although the only option there is a small informal carry-out bistro.
Imagine our delight upon reading in today’s Las Vegas Review-Journal that a new crepe place just opened up at Tivoli Village. The math here all added up to what should have been a great experience. Close to home. An upscale location. A European chef (according to the article). And, over one-hundred different varieties of crepes on the menu.
What could possibly go wrong?
Answer: Just about Everything. And then some.
We arrived at 1 pm on a Wednesday afternoon and took two seats at a small metal table in the middle of the dining area. The place appears very spartan. Cement floors. Exposed air-conditioning vents and ducts suspended high up in the ceiling. An open kitchen. One might describe the look and feel here as “industrial.” No big deal. We’re not here for the decorations.
The waitress approaches.
“Can I start you off with a drink?” she asks.
“Sure — two iced teas please.”
“We don’t serve brewed iced tea,” she snaps.
“Okay, how about two glasses of water for now, and we’ll order something else with the lunches?”
“We don’t serve regular water — just bottled water,” she says.
“Okay, bring us two then.”
Suddenly, Marieta notices on the menu that bottled water costs $4.50 each. So, that’s $9 bucks automatically tacked on to the check, and we haven’t even ordered a starter yet. Nice trick. But I’m not falling for it. I holler over to the waitress that we’ve changed our mind — we’ll pass on the waters. Fucking robbery doing that to people.
I glance around and notice just about everyone has bottled water sitting on their table. What a racket. It’s going to be one hell of a surprise when they see their checks and suddenly notice they’ve been shaken down for $4.50 a pop (not counting tax and tip). FOR FUCKING WATER!
One more thing about the water. They serve 12-ounce bottles of Aquafina. I’ve priced those myself at Costco and they’re like $7 for an entire 24-pack. So, The Crepe is making out like ballbusting bandits and charging customers more than 15 times the cost on the markup.
FOR FUCKING WATER!
Have I sufficiently emphasized enough just how pissed off I am about this? How well will this policy go to go over here in Las Vegas next summer when it’s 112 degrees outside?
Well, if I’m going to get porked for $4.50 for a single bottle of water, instead I might as well order the “fresh squeezed” juice. The Crepe offers lemonade, orange, and grapefruit. I opt for the grapefruit. Cost: $4.50 a glass.
About five minutes later, my “fresh squeezed” grapefruit juice arrives. Here it is. Check out the photo below:
Look at the size of my fucking hand! Now, take a look at the size of the glass! You mean to tell me THIS IS WHAT AI GET FOR FOUR-DOLLARS AND FIFTY FUCKING CENTS! ARE YOU KIDDING ME?
The “fresh squeezed” grapefruit juice is served in a plastic glass about the size of a pear. I could gulp that shot down in one drink. Hell, my hand engulfs the entire glass. And worse — it’s A PLASTIC GLASS!
THIS IS OUTRAGEOUS!
Wait. I haven’t even had a chance to actually sample the “fresh squeezed” grapefruit juice yet. Can you say “bad to worse?”
If the liquid concoction they served me today is “fresh squeezed” grapefruit juice, then I’m the Pope of China.
NO WAY, BUSTER!
Want proof that I know what I’m talking about? There’s no pulp in the juice. Look. There! Do you see any goddamned grapefruit pulp in my glass? Look at it! And they dare to call this “fresh-squeezed?” It’s not! THERE’S NO PULP!
I’m thinking this must all be a sick joke. Surely, the Practical Jokers camera guys are going to jump out of a wall in a minute and announce we’ve all been pranked. Yeah, that’s the ticket. That’s it. It’s all a big joke. Hee, hee.
Wait. Where are the cameras?
The waitress approaches and is ready to take our lunch order. For some reason, despite the warning signs, we remain optimistic about The Crepe. Never mind the water and juice disasters. We didn’t come here for the decorations, or the water, or the juice. The crepes should be good here, right? All will soon be forgiven.
We decide to order two doubles. That means — a lunch crepe and a dessert crepe. Plus a small garden salad. Cost: $17 each. So, after the meal, tax, and tip, we’re probably looking at $50 for lunch in this place. Oh well, its worth it if the food’s good.
About 20 minutes lapses. The table next to us gets served. Two crepes come out — served ON PAPER PLATES!
Hands shaking. PAPER PLATES! The “WIRE HANGERS” of restaurant-dom.
So — I’m paying $50 for lunch and drinking from a plastic glass and eating off paper plates? What is this — a fucking company picnic? THE HORROR!
NO PAPER PLATES! NO PLASTIC GLASSES! NO WIRE HANGERS!
It was hard to get much of an indication about the food. The old people next to use ate up their meals. But who knows the back story. Two tables away, some waif sent her crepe back to the chef. She wasn’t satisfied for some reason. But that isn’t necessarily the fault of the restaurant. Some customers can be real assholes.
After 35 minutes, another woman comes out from behind the counter. Aha! Lunch is served, at last.
“Did you order two (indecipherable menu items)?” she asks.
“No. We ordered (whatever).”
Flustered, the woman realizes she has come to the wrong table, despite the fact we’ve been given a large NUMBER 4 which is placed squarely on the table. She finally locates the correct table and serves up the crepes to what is presumably another starving couple. Meanwhile, we’re advised that our order is “coming up soon.”
Lucky us! Better than winning the lottery.
“I saw two cooking on the grill just now….those must be yours,” the woman advises.
Great!
I feel so blessed.
Another 10 minutes lapses. Mind you, we have ordered two small salads with two lunch crepes, to be followed up by two dessert crepes. And we haven’t yet received a basket of bread or a salad. But we do have our “fresh squeezed” grapefruit juice to nurse on! Hooray! Then, if we really get thirsty wasting the day away, we can always order some of those delicious $4.50 bottles of water.
By my estimate, we’ve now been waiting for 45 minutes. Did anyone get the phone number for Domino’s handy?
No one comes over. No apologies. Not a single word.
Since time is all we have to kill at the moment, Marieta decides to take a headcount. She notes that 22 people are sitting in the restaurant, including us. Perhaps 3 or 4 orders have been served since we’ve arrived. In 45 minutes. Gee, what would ever happen if they got a rush?
By this time, lunch has become a comedic circus. I’m shaking my head starting to mutter profanities. I’m sure some other people must have heard me bitching. But I’m way past being livid at this point. It’s actually starting to be funny.
Perhaps another 3 or 4 minutes pass and I’m staring over into the kitchen area, which is behind a lunch counter. I don’t see any signs of our scrumptious crepes coming out. Perhaps they’re back there somewhere hiding. Sitting on the counter. Baking under the heat lamp. Laying on the floor. Who the fuck knows?
Again, no apologies. We might as well have been invisible.
Finally fed up beyond repair, I tell Marieta we’re blowing this joint. In my lifetime, I’ve walked out of only a few restaurants. In most cases, I’d prefer to talk to the manager or owner and seek an explanation. But here, I see no point at all. What does one say? Where to begin? How much time does the manager have to listen?
We leave, completely and utterly unnoticed. We even walk within sight of our waitress, who didn’t seem to be aware that we’d not yet be served.
I realize this isn’t five-star dining. But this dining experience was about as bad as it gets. Of course to be fair, new restaurants deserve to be cut some slack. After all, everything is new. But the total lack of care, concern, or customer awareness at The Crepe was appalling.
So, how were the crepes? Perhaps they were delicious. But, I’ll never know.
UPDATE: CLOSED/OUT OF BUSINESS