Update: The general manager of Cafe Martorano called me about my horrible experience the other night. He was very gracious. He offered his sincere apologies and invited me and my girlfriend for dinner and drinks on the house. He also said when he found out who was smashing bottles next to my table, that person would be fired on the spot. Can't say fairer than that. That's a lot more than a lot of South Florida eateries would do for a disgruntled customer. I'm actually looking forward to it. Despite the atrocious service, the food was really good. Will update after I get back.\r
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How to describe the highlights of my visit to this temple of the culinary arts. Was it the waiter who thought tripe was a type of fish? Was it the strip-club decor and pounding techno music that made conversation nearly impossible? Was it the $40 plate of chicken and broccoli rabe? Or was it the meatball scam, whereby the waiter offered to add a couple of extra meatballs to an appetizer, neglecting to tell us it would triple the price of the dish.\r
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No, on reflection, I would have to say it was the team of trained monkeys behind the bar who loudly smashed beer bottles in an attempt to drive us from our table because they wanted to go home early. Real classy.\r
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I have a suggestion for owner and chef Steve Martorano, a transplant from the City of Brotherly Shove who brings to South Florida all the civility and hospitality that Philadelphia is rightly famous for. Why not drop the pretense you're running a restaurant? Take a cue from the fictional gangsters that adorn your walls and as soon as anybody walks in the door, hit them over the head with a baseball bat, snatch their wallet and then toss them into the street. It would be a more honest way to make a living than the way you do now.\r
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I'm tempted to take a page from the Cafe Martorano Book of Etiquette, and say "Screw you, you big dumb meathead". But then I realize I'm the dummy for spending $400 at your execrable establishment.\r
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Cafe Martorano? Fuggedaboutit.
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