So I have this habit of eating in terrible restaurants. For some reason, whenever I look up a restaurant on Yelp and it has a 1.5 rating or something of that fashion, I take it as a personal challenge! I should stop, because honestly, I’m going to die. There’s no better example of why I should stop this weird habit than my visit to Chinatown Restaurant, 744 Washington Street, SF.
Let me set the scene here. I found myself in San Francisco with an hour to spare before I met a friend. I saw the restaurant, pulled out my smart phone and checked the yelp reviews. My eyes lit up to find over 400 reviews ranting and raving that this place was a death trap. Consider the scene set. I waltzed into the restaurant with the 80s song Hit me with your best shot playing in my head. I don’t remember exactly, in fact everything after the point described is rather blurred in my memory, almost as if I’ve supressed the memory. Alternatively, perhaps the memory of whatever it is I ordered was pushed out of my head by the rather distracting scene of three pigeons flying around the restaurant! As in, on the inside! I was completely baffled by the scene and I couldn’t decide what was more ridiculous; the other customers desperately scrambling away from the birds, the waiting staff completely ignoring the issue or the fattest of the pigeons repeated slamming its head into a window in a comical effect to escape the death trap!
Whatever it is that I ordered, it was something along the lines of dough with meat inside but, when the plate arrived, the dough, was still dough. As in, no part of it had been cooked in the least and the complete lack of steam coming off the plate told me that there had in fact been no effort to cook it what so ever!
There was also some kind of chow Mein dish. It arrive 15 minutes after the uncooked mess despite them being ordered at the same time and to my great surprise, it looked good! I started eating and was truly amazed to find it was delicious! After pushing the untouched plate as far as I could out eye line, I began to chow down and thought triumphantly ‘I knew it couldn’t be that bad!’ The celebration was cut short because at that moment, I felt a soft tickly only tongue. I reached into my mouth and pulled out a hair that was—I shit you not – the length of my arm! I emptied the food in my mouth onto my plate and called a waitress over to alert her of my disgust. This is by far my favourite part of the story because when she say me sat there holding a length of hair, mildly covered in sauce, she took one look at me and went ‘ew’ before disappearing again. By this time, the uncooked meal had frozen over, the pigeon had given up and was now tottering about the floor and I was the only one still in the restaurant. I shall not be returning. Turns out, I love myself!