I'm thirsty. Really thirsty. I would love an adult beverage. Nothing fancy. Doesn't have to be expensive or served to me in a fancy glass in a trendy bar with Warhol paintings and the ambience of a yoga class filled with middle aged housewives. As much as I enjoy putting on a slinky dress and my Givenchy pumps, sometimes my lizard skin cowboy boots and a vintage thrift store sweater are what I really want. I had a pretty good idea of what to expect from Fox and Hound. I try not to read others' reviews of places before I eat there myself because, silly me, I am not a sheep and I like to make up my own mind. I expected a bar, loud music and a hockey game, a urine specimen/drink special, and a flirty waitress with her boobs hanging out of her top (which I am fine with, as long as my husband is within striking distance) serving me pretty standard bar fare. I'm primarily thirsty, but something to munch on sounds OK too. In fact, I think I'm kinda hungry.
I had a feeling of anxiety upon walking in. Not too many patrons. At nine o'clock on a Friday night? During the long awaited hockey season? The door hadn't even shut behind me yet when we were greeted by a cheerful hostess who promptly seated us near the bar. As I expected, it was noisy. But look, music videos on the bar TV. And basketball. And hockey. Testosterone and sex in high definition on all sides of me. Yup. I have arrived. And in my fun boots, no less. I am kinda in the mood for this. Here comes the waitress. VERY nice! So polite! House beer and house special margarita? We shall. There are several choices for sauce for the wings, and we were happy to take her recommendation based on what we told her we liked. Oh, you're the manager? Pleasant to meet you! Thank you, I believe I will indeed enjoy my visit! Stick with the house margarita the way its meant to be- rocks and salt, not sugar around the rim. The house brew is pretty decent, very drinkable, not particularly hoppy, as I tend to prefer. Here come the appetizers. In Pennsylvania, the soft pretzel is an institution, a warm and chewy token that deserves our respect. Possibly the reason William Penn settled here in the first place. Here, it is deep fried and served with cheese/salsa dip. It made me sad. The wings were nothing special, but they tasted good with the drinks. The combination of the sweet, spicy, and salty really is, for me, the definition of what you want to be eating with a huge beer or three. Comfort food, certainly not fine dining. Newcastle fish and chips. Easy, right? Again, I am sad. The breading fell off of my overcooked fillets. The fries were crispy, but overseasoned. Coleslaw, a welcome addition to the plate with its cool tangy cabbage crunch. Nope, warm and plain. Here comes the salmon salad. A bed of romaine (just plain romaine, that's it), with a dry, overcooked filet of salmon and a flavorless vinaigrette. I am looking for my bright spot on this adventure. Ah, there it is! As soon as my glass is empty, here is my waitress. And look, she brought an extra dish of lemons when she refilled my water this time! Yes, you can take that dish away, thank you so much. What service! What attention! I can't say that I'm devastated by the food because my hopes were not high, but I am incredibly surprised by the service. This is how its supposed to be. Fast, friendly, attentive. This is worth coming back for. I passed on dessert, frankly, I had had enough. Even after I pay my bill, the waitress still checks in on me. I feel loved. Upon leaving, we are approached my the manager. A hearty handshake thanks us for coming and welcomes us back again in the future. Will I take him up on his offer? Absolutely, with a few conditions.
I want the same fantastic service that I received this evening every time I come here. My glass was never empty. I didn't have one unwelcome dirty dish staring at me. I was treated like I was wanted, like everyone was excited that I had come and wanted me to have a great experience.
I want another house margarita.
I want to watch music videos and NBA.
This would be a great place for a normal person with a normal job to come after work and have a good time with co-workers and friends. I do not fit into that box, but I will come with friends nonetheless, dammit.
I will eat before I come. I might enjoy the food if I have a few drinks in me, but yet I must maintain my sobriety to the point that I can keep it down. I don't want to have to taste it again.