Pulling the Ruggles out from Underneath Me

Ah the Heights. The new Rice Village. The New Montrose. The New... well, Heights. It's getting a lot continued attention. Lots of new places opening: bars, restaurants, trendy condos. You know the drill with neighborhood transition.

When 11th Street Cafe changed hands, I thought great! A Ruggles. Within walking distance. I was excited because my experience has always been good. This made the increase in traffic, the higher crime rate, and the obnoxious parking worth it. Well, almost.

Ah, such highs, such lows.

My first visit was close to when they opened. I thought, I'll cut some slack and give them a second try. It is, afterall, Ruggles. After my second visit, I thought: Does Ruggles know someone is using their name?

Either way, I won't go back.

For starters, the first visit. It was a dinner. My friend Chris and I got a booth. The music in that specific location was so loud neither of us could hear. I asked if someone could turn the music down. The answer was a shrug. Hmmm.... So I asked again. The server said, "Everyone says it's too loud." Imagine me raising my hand: Oooo. Oooo. I have solution.

We ended up moving to a new table, unsanctioned by the server. It was too loud. Plain and simple. And after asking twice, one would think that would suffice as reason to turn it down. It wasn't necessarily better, as the music was loud at that new table as well. Just, well, just making the point I guess.

The food was nondiscript. It wasn't great. It wasn't good. It wasn't memorable. I had a salad. I have it in my head that Ruggles is great for salads. It was, well, overpriced for mediocre. Now I think of Ruggles as being good, comforting food. Not so at this time. Then we got dessert--always a homerun, right? I got the strawberry cake. It was an excuse for pink food coloring in the cake. No strawberry flavor. I realize those desserts are shipped in, so that would be a company-wide issue. But was was unique to this location was that it had been sitting around for a while because it was that dry crumbly texture.

When Matt suggested that we go for breakfast one morning about six weeks later, I thought, "It's been a few weeks. I'm sure they're on their feet." We walked down there and got... you guessed it... the SAME EXACT TABLE. You know, the one with the too-loud music. Didn't change. Still too loud so imagine that blaring in the background of the story.

We sat down and ordered drinks from a guy who has a case of the mumbles. "WErjk ewlrkjwelkj lwetewlkjrtljwe?" "Drinks?" I asked, clarifying the waiter's mumble. "YES. Drinks," He barked. He walked away, and a woman, who appeared to be manager came and said, "Did someone take your order?" I said, "No, I--" She cut me off, "I'll get someone here right away." Before I could even open my mouth again, she turned and found Mumbles.

Our drinks arrived and we ordered. I got eggs, bacon, potatoes, and toast. A fairly easy-going order. Matt got Huevos Rancheros. Mumbles said, "asltiu awerkitag alkfdgdfigu iewr?" I said, "I'm sorry?" He literally barked, "HOW DO YOU WANT YOUR EGGS?" Oh. Poached. He shlupped away.

A few minutes later, our orders were up. The manager lady was walking out with them. Now she'd been hovering around the entire time, bossing everyone around, snapping at customers. A waitress passed by her at that very moment and the manager told her, "Take these to that table." She nodded in our direction. The waitress whined, "But that's not my tay-bul." The manager said, "Well it's not my table. Take them." She shoved the plates at her. "But I have to get something for my tay-bul." The manager got even more aggressive: "This isn't my job." Um, taking care of customers isn't the restaurant manager's job? Really?

Our food was slammed on the table and she said, "Do you need anything else?" I said, feeling sheepish since it wasn't her table, "My toast?" She said, "That comes with toast?" Um, "Yes?" I felt bad asking for what I ordered. I mean, how dare I?

The food: cold. Not just lukewarm, cold. The bacon was that over cooked type where it's so hard it crumbles apart just picking it up. It was impossible to chew. It was not crispy, it was crunch. Hard and cruncy. The eggs were sitting in a puddle of water and the scalloped potatoes (yes, for breakfast) were separating. Grease pooling at the bottom and cream curdling on the top. It was absolutely disgusting. Foul. Matt's huevos were cleverly designed, but the eggs were watery and cold. I couldn't even both to take a bite. If the food had been even remotely edible, it would have been salvaged.

I don't see any reason to go back. Truly, someone could tell me they're great, they've improved, they've fixed the problem. I would still never go back. I am a paying customer. I shouldn't be barked at by the server. I shouldn't watch a fight over who throws my food at me.