For many years I have been a big fan of the Little Owl… No, not the bird, the restaurant and bar. Well, Flagstone Pub & Grill is right next door… Anyway, many years ago — when draught beers were still less than a dollar — I would visit often and order the Italian Beef and Fries while I sipped an ice cold beer.
Once Upon a Time, a Sports Store Called The Outdoorsman
Summer nights were always a favorite of local softball players when whole teams would head to the Owl after the game. The food was always good, the prices always reasonable, the beer always cold and the service was always, well… mediocre. BUT, I didn’t go there for the service and it didn’t really matter. I went there for the food and the ambience. In those days, I didn’t mind the smoky atmosphere, mostly because back then I was a smoker myself.
But I digress… I was happy to see that several months ago, the Little Owl had actually expanded into the building next door that was once upon a time a sports store called The Outdoorsman (Oh, for the good old days!) where everything sports — well, pretty much everything for the time — was available. I really had heard nothing about the place, so on a lonely Friday night when Lauren was hard at work on another project and I was left to fend for myself, I took myself to the Flagstone Pub.
The inside is gorgeous. Whoever did the architectural plans did a great job. The old flagstone walls have been exposed, a lot of really nice woodwork has been added, and large new ceiling fans were churning away in an atmosphere that was almost reminiscent of some places I have been to back on the California coast. It was a very nice look and had a very upscale feel. It felt comfortable to be there, even though I had not been there before. And that is when the joy I had initially experienced upon entering… began to vanish.
Not a Good First Impression
The female bartender on the other side of the bar did not project a good first impression. Hair all disheveled, jeans dirty and ragged and a well-chewed straw hanging from her mouth, she shuffled toward me with a look that seemed to say: “If I have to be here another minute I am gonna puke.” Instead she flung a coaster across the bar toward me and said: “You want somethin’ ta drink?” I replied “Yes, please” and asked for a draught beer.
After filling and delivering the pint glass, the tired young lady slid to the back bar and, leaning heavily against a post as if to hold it up, finished a large soda. She refilled it and gulped some more before returning to her mastication of another straw and stopping in front of someone she obviously knew to ask for a drink order. I figured she must have known the customer, only because it was one of the few times all evening that I saw her smile.
Ten Minutes Later
After ten minutes or so of no further contact and when it was quite clear that I would not be asked if I was interested in something to eat, I waved at another young lady behind the bar and asked if I could look at a menu. She obliged and I looked through the folded-in-half, eight-and-a-half-by-eleven sheet of heavy stock paper that was the menu. It was a simple menu and the prices were very reasonable — reminiscent of the past — and suddenly the ill-clad mope behind the bar seemed to fade temporarily away. I decided to order the fish sandwich. Seated next to me was a woman (she reminded me a bit of my mom) and her son-in-law, with whom I had a short by very nice conversation before the arrival of my sandwich. This was when I was snapped back to reality.
Just Fish and Bun… SO not in-sync with the ambience of the place
There in front of me was my dinner sandwich; I was really hungry. But beneath the dinner roll was a piece of fish that was perched — no pun intended — on… nothing at all. The roll was not toasted, there was no lettuce, no onion, no tomato and not even a hint of tartar sauce. Just fish and bun. The fries were cold. The bit of slaw was in a tiny paper cup. My heart sank, as did my appetite. I did get the attention of the more energetic of bartenders and requested some tartar sauce, which she promptly brought. But I was aghast… and extremely disappointed. I could only wonder what the other dinners coming out of the kitchen were like.
I will say that at least the fish was not the frozen, portion-controlled variety. And it was hot and tasty. But it did not make up for the other disappointments. The plating was as if someone with no training just threw the dish together. The fries had to have been sitting out for many minutes. Everything was SO not in-sync with the ambience of the place.
Cannot Recommend Flagstone
I can only hope that this was another case of a one-time thing. But until Flagstone can find waitresses that do not chew on straws while they work — the bartender was actually one of two of the wait-staff who practiced this (both females) — and kitchen help who can properly put together a decent sandwich, I cannot recommend the place, even if the prices are reasonable. With the kind of look and feel that Flagstone has created, one should expect — and get — so much more. For the time being, and in a one-time departure from what I usually do, I’ll give Flagstone Pub and Grill Four Zins for their proud new venue, but only Two Zins for the food and service. The result? A not-very-good 2 1/2 Zins. Lots of work to be done here…
Your Table is Waiting…
Ralph Pancetta
