We dined at a PF Chang’s once before, about ten years ago. We vaguely recalled an average experience. But since ten long years had passed, we were willing to give the popular restaurant chain another try. A parking lot full of mini-vans can’t be that wrong, can it?
Well…
What is there to like about PF Chang’s?
I’ll try and solve this baffling mystery in today’s column.
PF Chang’s is a popular chain restaurant with multiple locations throughout North America, including here in Las Vegas. Proving once again that the general public’s taste in just about everything is appalling, here’s where bland Mc-Asian food gets dressed up in a casual dining atmosphere. This basically means the identical ingredients you’d get from a street vendor in Chinatown get hijacked for about double the price. That’s because the rice is served in a bowl rather than a white cardboard box. The cooking is pretty much the same.
Then again, it’s not the same. Most of the meals you’d eat in Chinatown — the vast majority costing under $12 — are damned tasty. At least they’re fulfilling. One doesn’t leave both hungry and angry. If there’s one thing that pisses me off, it’s leaving a restaurant both starving and furious. Not good. Such an end result is sure to trigger the wrath of hellfire.
Tonight, I dined at the PF Chang’s in Las Vegas located at the corner of Fort Apache and Charleston. Remarkably, this was only my second visit (ever) to a PF Chang’s.
SIDEBAR COMMENT: Marieta and I dined at a PF Chang’s once before, about ten years ago. We vaguely recalled a very average experience. But since ten long years had passed, we were willing to give the popular restaurant another try. A parking lot full of mini-vans can’t be that wrong, can it?
Big fucking mistake!
I ordered something called “Dan Dan Noodles.” How does a kitchen fuck up something so simple as “Dan Dan Noodles?” Here’s the menu description, which was cut and paste from PF Chang’s company website:
DAN DAN NOODLES
Scallions, garlic, and chili peppers stir-fried with ground chicken and served over hot egg noodles
Now, here’s what I was served (see photo below, if you can bear the horror).
Look at that plate. Look at it! I did not doctor the food or Photoshop anything (PROOF: Everyone knows I wouldn’t know how to use Photoshop).
Seriously, this is how my food was served.
Can you believe this?
Here. Take a much closer look:
Would you want to ingest this into your body? It looks like something after it’s been eaten.
For one thing, those are not “EGG NOODLES!”
That’s fucking spaghetti! In a Chinese restaurant!
Look at the noddles. Check out the seven-o’clock position of the photograph above. Do those look like EGG NOODLES to you?
Here. I’m not putting up with this. I did a Google search for “EGG NOODLES.” Here is what came up:
Do those noodles that I was served look like EGG NOODLES to you?
No, they do not!
For one thing, those noodles are supposed to be flat. Do the PF Chang’s Dan Dan noodles look flat to you?
No! It looks like fucking spaghetti. Maybe PF Chang’s scrimping on the ingredients. But they sure as shit aren’t fooling me. And, I’m not going to take it! I refuse to take it.
A second problem: The restaurant would have avoided this monumental embarrassment and public exposure had they simply treated me with respect. They did not. They disrespected me.
Here’s how the course of events went on Sunday evening:
SERVICE TIMELINE:
5:15 — We enter PF Chang’s from a side door. The glass door is absolutely filthy with what appears to be dirty infant handprints. That fucking window hasn’t been cleaned in weeks! The first sign something was not quite right with the restaurant.
5:16 — Place is filled with old people, and families. Another bad sign. Old people’s taste buds are shot to hell, and families don’t know food worth a shit. Should have been another waving red flag.
5:17 — We get seated at a table with chairs (two people). Right next to the table is an empty booth, with padded seats. I request the booth. The hostess gives a snooty attitude and says that since they are busy the booth has to go to a “larger party.” Hey Sister, when I demand a booth, sit me in a fucking booth!
5:18 — I clam up and take a seat in the hard prison chairs. Menus arrive. Everything is new to us, so we need extra time to go over the dinner choices.
5:25 — Russian waitress takes our food order. So far, everything is acceptable, despite a few minor bumps.
5:33 — Appetizer arrives. We order a large bowl of Wonton soup, which is more than enough to share. Very average. Very little meat. No shrimp. Maybe a flank of chicken to two. Weak limp-ass Wontons. The Wontons should not be soggy! Never!
5:41 — A man who appears to be the manager stop by and asks, “So how’s the soup?” Huh? How’s the soup? What is this — a game show? Marieta answers everything is fine as I’m fishing out a sprig of Chinese broccoli. Good thing my mouth was full of the soggy Wonton. I wanted to give the manager of a piece of my mind and tell him his Wonton soup needed some serious work.
5:50 — The large bowl is still filled with some soup. The waitress asks if she should wrap it up. We decline. If the Wonton noodles are soggy now, how fucking massacred are they going to be after they get home sitting in a 125-degree car while soaking in broth for another two hours!
5:52 — The two main courses arrive. Marieta ordered the Beef and Broccoli basted in a sweet ginger sauce. Very average. I ordered the Dan Dan Noodles. When I see the platter, I can’t possibly imagine this entree tastes even worse than it looks. But it is. ONE BITE and two minutes after my dinner has been served, I flag down the waitress. Unfailingly polite as I always am, I declare this entree is not what I expected. Technically, they are not obligated to make an exchange, since this was what I ordered. However, I make a strong suggestion that they should switch out the dish to make sure the customer is pleased. Waitress misses the hint and leaves me sitting with my dick in my hand, angrily mopping in front of the jail slop for the next twenty minutes. Too bad the manager didn’t stop by and ask how everything was. I guess he only gives a shit about the quality of the soup.
6:10 — Marieta and I hunt and peck at the Beef and Broccoli like two starving pigeons. We devour two bowls of plain rice. The Dan Dan Noodles remain on the table, virtually untouched. Marieta tries to sample my dish, the equivalent of falling on a live grenade to save the battalion, but can’t take it. She heaves for about three seconds before disposing a bite of the Chinese spaghetti into a napkin.
6:12 — Waitress returns and offers to wrap up the Dan Dan Noodles. We ask for the take-out container and perform this task ourselves (mindful not to waste food and the birds might eat it). We don’t like others wrapping up our food. There’s no telling what goes on behind the scenes. This is especially true if you’ve been a difficult customer, not that this applies, of course.
6:20 — Bill paid. She receives a 15 percent tip (instead of 20 percent) on a $40 bill because she shafted me on replacing the entree.
6:22 — We’re out the door.
6:26 — Unfulfilled and still hungry, we drive across the street and go to another restaurant, for what amounts to dinner number two.
Which now brings me to the question I initially asked in the second short paragraph of today’s column: What is there to like about PF Chang’s?
Answer: Being much wiser for the experience and ultimately satisfied that my instincts were (once again) right and that I will never go back.
Moral of Story: Do not order the Dan Dan Noodles at PF Chang’s!
TAG: Worst Asian restaurants
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