That Item Has Been Backordered

I'm behind on updating this. The reason I finally posted about LyingHorn was because it was a prelude to a post about a decent, moderately priced steak without butter that also came with a side of fantastic service.

After that, I'm looking forward to telling you about Joshua and Monty and how they turned what could have been a less than stellar evening into an excellent example of how to make your customer feel appreciated. Customer service at its finest, courtesy of 801 Franklin.

They Tell 'Em Big at LyingHorn

This is a recurring topic here at I Paid For That but I’m finally posting a long overdue rant about butter sauce on my steak. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t hate butter. I just don’t want it on my steak. I’ll choose and apply my condiments myself, thank you very much.

A good steak doesn’t need butter. I’d rather save those calories/points for other things. If I can cut the extra and unneeded points and calories in some foods, I can use them for dessert or wine. I thought I’d solved my steak and butter issue at one restaurant.

As I’m a packrat in real life and electronically, I still had the following exchange in my email (edits to protect my privacy and save you some time reading). I left Mr. Livrieri's name in it, though, because an executive of this steakhouse can and should be able to Google himself and find out there's a big problem. It’s an account of my first run-in with the butter sauce and, I thought, resolution of that problem.


-----Original Message-----
From: Ima Wurdibitsch
Sent: Wednesday, October 01, 2003 10:49 PM
To: guestcomments@longhornsteakhouse.com
Subject: Our dinner at Longhorn tonight


Dear Longhorn,

First of all, I'd like to say that Longhorn is one of my favorite steakhouses. Great service, great food. I've asked to speak to the manager on several occasions to either praise a server or just thank them for a consistent job well done. I wish now that I had also written to you all about the wonderful meals I've had in your Huntsville, Alabama restaurant. I wish that because I hate the fact that the first letter I'm writing to you is a complaint.

My mother, daughter and I are all watching our weight so we order carefully (dressings and such on the side, lower calorie steak and side choices). As usual, the service was good and the salads excellent. However, when my steak came, I thought I got the wrong steak. There was a pale sauce that looked kind of like melted cheese on it. I asked the waitress what was on my steak and she told me it was a butter sauce that they always put on all the steaks and seasonal vegetables. I quickly scraped it off my steak to stop it from seeping further into it. I'm used to (and enjoy) the prairie dust that your chefs use but had never seen this butter sauce before. Your steaks are excellent! They don't need the butter sauce. My waistline certainly doesn't need it.

There was so much butter on my place when I finished my steak that I estimated it at somewhere between a quarter and a third of a cup! My dad found a manager and we asked him if that was normal and did they usually put all that stuff on the steaks. He verified what the waitress had said and told us that they've always put the butter sauce on their steaks and if I'd ever had a steak there any other way, someone in the kitchen had prepared it incorrectly.

The manager offered a free cheesecake dessert for our trouble. Ehm... I'm watching my weight! I didn't want compensation or a dessert or anything else. I just wanted to find out if that was normal and, if so, I'd know to order my food without the sauce.

So, to the point of my letter... What's the story? Is that policy? Butter sauce on the steaks? Or, did I get a manager who was merely backing up the waitress? Please let me know. And, aside from tonight, keep up the good work!!

Thanks,
Ima


Longhorn quickly responded.

On Thu, 2 Oct 2003 11:25:58 -0400 , Nina
Nina.Lastname@loho.com wrote :

Dear Ms. Wurdibitsch,

Thank you very much for contacting us regarding your visit to our Huntsville, AL., location. On behalf of LongHorn, I would like to apologize for your very disappointing experience. I have forwarded your e-mail to our Regional Vice President of Operations, Paul Livrieri, who would like to contact you personally to apologize and discuss your concerns. Is there a phone number where you can be contacted, at your convenience?

Again, our sincerest apologies and thank you for giving us the opportunity to respond.

Sincerely,
Nina Lastname
Executive Assistant to the President/LongHorn Steakhouse


I responded as follows:

Dear Ms. Lastname,

Thank you for your quick reply to my comment. I'd like to re-emphasize that I usually have excellent dining experiences at LongHorn. Last night's meal was unusual. If Mr. Livrieri would like to speak to me, I should be in my office for most of the afternoon. He can reach me here by dialing XXX-XXX-XXXX.

Regards,
Ima

Mr. Livrieri did indeed contact me and informed me that Longhorn does put “love” (aka a butter sauce) on all of their steaks. However, he assured me that all I needed to do was request that my steak be prepared without it. He sent a gift certificate nice enough for our entire family to eat again at Longhorn.

We continued going to Longhorn for years. It worked out for family occasions because it is somewhat family friendly and everyone can find something they like. I also liked their quick response and what seemed to be a real dedication to customer care and service.

We don’t go there anymore.

There were a few times that I noticed butter sauce on my steak and I did send it back but that wasn’t it. It’s what happened the last time we ate there.

MrWurdi and I went for what I thought was a Weight Watcher (and Core plan) friendly meal. My steak arrived with a pool of butter sauce. The waitress apologized and said she told the kitchen “no love.” The manager arrived at our table a few minutes later. In a far too long and drawn out speech full of blame-shifting and excuses, he finally got to the point. He told me “The Longhorn Secret.” Most of their steaks aren’t cooked on a grill. All but two of the steaks are cooked on a hot griddle-like surface. The cook ladles a big scoop of butter sauce onto the griddle, cooks the steak, ladles more butter sauce, flips the steak and then after plating it, puts more butter sauce on it. According to this manager, that’s what makes their steaks so good. Bullshit.

“So, what you’re telling me is that all these years that I’ve been asking for my steak with no butter, I may not have gotten the extra ladle-full after cooking but they’ve been prepared with the butter?” I asked.

“Well, the steak would stick to the griddle if we didn’t use the sauce! And don’t we have wonderful steaks?” He wasn’t getting it. I think he could sense my annoyance by this point. He finally said that I could ask to have my steak cooked on the grill in the future.

I don’t think so. Basically, I’d been lied to for years. They no longer get my business.

Butter sauce. I paid for that but not anymore.

I Have A Bone To Pick...

We’re such rebels. We celebrated Valentine’s Day on Saturday instead of last Thursday. My parents had given us a gift card to one of their favorite restaurants, Bonefish. We’d taken them there for their anniversary and the food was excellent so we were looking forward to it.

We’d made a reservation for 8:30 but ended up getting there a little bit early so we had to wait. The joint was hopping. We overheard the gal at the door tell those arriving without a reservation that the wait was an hour and a half.

Our table was, in my opinion, one of the best in the house. It was in a corner; it was quiet. Perfect for the romantic, date night dinner we were anticipating.

Chris, our waiter, made his appearance. He seemed to be a nice fellow and took our drink orders (tea for MrWurdi; a Hendricks martini – stirred and water with no ice for me). In a reasonable amount of time, considering how busy the restaurant was, he returned with the tea and water, chock full of ice. They were busy. I didn’t say anything. I fished my ice out of my glass with a fork and put it in MrWurdi’s tea.

When Chris returned later, much later, with our bread and my martini, I was impressed. Chris could have been an actor. He was smooth. There was no monotone recital of the ingredients in the olive oil (Italian butter, by his reckoning). He had this description down to an art form. It was interesting. Seriously. I am not at all being sarcastic. It was a great description of the oil. He probably could have recited the menu and it would have been entertaining. He was an actor and Bonefish his stage.

Since this isn’t one of our regular eating destinations, I was unfamiliar with the available sauces. I had to ask what was in the sauces before making a decision on which I’d prefer with my scallops and shrimp. Then, after I found out what was in them, I wanted to decide which of the available wines would best go with my dinner. I wanted to know if the steamed vegetables were simply steamed or if they were also buttered. Since they were buttered, I wanted to know if it was possible to get them without butter. You see, if they’re only available buttered, I’ll get one of the other sides and manage my portions.

Fortunately, the crowd had eased up at this point and it wasn’t all that busy anymore. Unfortunately for us, Chris, the handsome and entertaining actor/waiter, did not really want nor did he appreciate audience participation. This is where I began to feel like I was ordering my dinner from my car through a clown’s mouth. If you’re going to use the drive-through, it’s good to know what you’re going to order before you get to the clown’s mouth. You and the people behind you expect speed at a fast food restaurant. I don’t want to be rushed through my meal at a place with candlelight, linen napkins and a decent wine list. Chris rushed us through the ordering process and seemed rather impatient with my questions about the food. The audience isn’t supposed to care how the set was made.

When our meals arrived, our beverage glasses were empty and had been for a while. The wine was nowhere in sight. My steamed veggies were coated in buttery badness. The manager, Mr. Don Driscoll, had been working the room. He chose this moment to come and ask about our Bonefish experience. Err. When we, tactfully, told him, he not only asked what he could do to turn things around, he did it. He took both of our meals back to the kitchen (so we could both have hot meals at the same time) to get my veggies minus butter. Within a few moments, Chris was there with water and tea. Mr. Driscoll, himself, returned with our meals and my wine. Chris came back with more bread and was friendly and interacted with us. I’d made no mention of actor/audience, so this was a nice change.

A few notes on the menu items and food:
There are fourteen martinis offered on the menu. Not a single one contains gin.

I won’t order the Caesar salad there again. Powdery parmesan cheese is icky.

The bread was not good and I wasn’t interested in wasting Points on it.

MrWurdi’s dinner was Lily’s Chicken. A “fire-roasted chicken topped with creamy Chèvre Goat cheese, sautéed spinach, artichoke hearts and a lemon basil sauce.” It was fantastic. Chicken at a seafood place? I’d have never guessed it would be so good.

The steamed veggies, the veggie of the day (spaghetti squash), and my shrimp and scallops were delicious.

Chris failed to deliver on the requested ice cream with MrWurdi’s dessert. Fortunately, I just wanted a bite or two of my brownie so MrWurdi got my ice cream.

While Mr. Driscoll saved the experience for us, Chris hurt his tip with the first three-quarters of his service and only slightly redeemed himself in the end. We left 15% and a note to read this blog.


Service: I paid for that, just not as much as I normally would.
Management: Mr. Driscoll will be paid in future business.
Food: I paid for that, gladly.*







*Okay, Mom and Dad (with the gift card) and I (covering the balance) paid for that. Gladly.