I'm sure everyone has a funny horrible restaurant story to share. When I was reporting
this story in July, I decided to try a diner in Chelsea. When they finally deigned to acknowledge us outsiders after about half an hour, we were seated and ignored again until I walked back to the kitchen to beg for help. When I listed them in Seven Nights, they told me that they made great from-scratch chicken fingers, so that's what I hoped to try. It wasn't on the menu. They said they would make them for me anyway. What I got was a plastic basket with four chicken fingers and three pats of butter inside. That's it. No sides. When I asked for sides, they seemed confused and they took forever. I guess their regular clientèle considers butter an acceptable accompaniment to a meal.
What's your story?