Here are my observations [WARNING: lots of sass]:
Every food item is euphemized. For example, my shrimp scampi was not called shrimp scampi. It was called Scampi Qiouahahahaluliilla or some such thing. I had to read it a few times to make sure it was what I was looking for: shrimp scampi.
Half of the words in the descriptions were spent emphasizing that individual ingredients were local, from such and such, organic, whatever. This is not unique to this restaurant, especially in the PNW, for the record. The steaks weren’t just steaks they were “authentic Yakima-cut” something-rather. Having been to Yakima many times, I have no idea why anyone would read that and feel good about their purchase.
All steaks had some kind of frou-frou topper. Not like that thick fat sauce and some fried shrimp, like at the Keg or something. Or bits of lobster. One was cranberry something (even though it wasn’t a flank steak), another was an olive oil mixed with some greens on a rib eye. This is more of a general complaint against trying to hide an improperly cooked steak with goofy toppings. A good steak is good by itself.
My dish was about as bad as Olive Garden’s, at double the cost. Overcooked pasta, about a 1/4" pool of olive oil in the bottom, cherry tomatoes (why?) instead of tomato-tomatoes. And for some reason it had chopped bacon in it... Who puts bacon in their scampi dishes? Is that authentic Italian at all? Anyway, my dish tasted like a gigantic, gelatinous salt lick. Also the portion was waaaaaay small... And there was no garlic. How is there no garlic in a shrimp scampi dish. How, I ask thee.
The place was too good to serve ice cream for desert. They served gelato (which FINE it’s Italian) which is nothing more than an inferior ice cream. I need that extra butter fat. After all, this is the same place that put bacon in my scampi, so I don’t see why bother in serving gelato.
Service was excellent and timely, but the atmosphere was in turmoil. Part of the restaurant is an area you can reserve for events, so while we were trying to have a nice meal, there was a cover band on the other side of the wall playing Hey Jude, Feliz Navidad (in April?!?!), and California Dreaming. People from that party kept passing in and out and leaving the door open, and no one in the restaurant area could hear each other speak. People at adjacent tables had to keep getting up from their meals and closing the door themselves. Kind of absurd.
Thanks for reading.