Diane’s dad’s recuperation seems to be more complicated than we’d expected (of course, it’s hard to tell exactly what’s going on from 2500 miles away), and so we spent much of the afternoon on the phone trying to sort out his status and what’s going to happen when he’s discharged from the hospital on Monday (answer: we don’t know yet, and trying to get information from a hospital on Saturday afternoon is a futile errand).
Neither of us felt comfortable committing six hours to a road rallye (including travel, rallye school, and post-rallye activities); Jeff, on the other hand, wanted us out of the house so that he could study and watch The Empire Strikes Back in peace. So we compromised, and Diane and I went out for dinner.
With just the two of us, our restaurant horizons expand considerably; we decided to try somewhere new but local, the Forbes Mill Steakhouse. We had no reservations, but thought it should be fairly easy to grab a table at 6pm, even on Saturday night. When we arrived, first they said that there were no indoor tables; I was ready to leave, and suddenly they discovered one table, near the kitchen. That was fine with us, and we took it.
Our waiter arrived promptly with menus, the wine list, and an offer of cocktails (which we declined) or water (which we accepted). We both wanted the Bosc Pear and Gorgonzola salad; Diane ordered the mixed grill (which, interestingly, includes a lamp chop rather than the expected lamb chop), and I ordered the ribeye. My salad had the dressing pre-applied, rather than on the side, as I’d ordered it — but it was very tasty, so I didn’t point out the error.
We both liked our wines; I had Terrazas de Los Andes “Vistalba Vineyards” Malbec, Mendza 2003, and Diane had Montage, California 2002.
When the main course arrived, the server mumbled something about “cowboy cut” (which had been a daily special), and I noticed that it was a bone-in steak — not what I expected. So I flagged down yet another waiter (there were some advantages in being near the kitchen), who brought over a supervisor, who said that the bone was “free” and that he’d make sure the bill was correct. I was hungry; the meat had been cooked the way I wanted and was reasonably close to what I wanted, so I said “ok”.
Neither of us was particularly thrilled with our steaks (though Diane said her lamp chop was good). There wasn’t anything wrong with them — but they weren’t worth the price. And mine was far too big to finish, and I didn’t want to save it, either.
We passed on dessert.
The check arrived, and it showed the bone-in ribeye, but they corrected it as soon as I pointed out the error.
If I could just order the salad, I’d return cheerfully (and then go somewhere else for a main course), but otherwise, I’m in no hurry to go back; the meat wasn’t up to the price, and they got too many things wrong in handling our orders.
After dinner, we took a nice walk through downtown Los Gatos, and then came home to find Jeff busily studying (he’d finished watching the movie first, of course).
Maybe we’ll try next month’s rallye, Car Wars III: Revenge of the SI.