We had reservations at 7 p.m. (1900) our first night in Venice. We were tired and jet-lagged and walked there, which proved quite a hike, but we still arrived about 20 minutes early, having been warned they will not hold a reservation if you are late. We were not aware that 7 p.m. was also their opening time. When we walked in, a tall thin young man with glasses spoke to a young woman I took to be the boss; he then told us we were early and we'd have to "go away and come back later". (Apparently the young man spoke English, the "boss" did not.) Somewhat shocked at being told to "go away" after our long walk, and the place being empty, my wife asked if she could use their restroom. The young man said yes (hence the single star), so my wife headed off to the restroom. After she left, the young man spoke to the "boss" again and then told me he could seat us, and showed me to a table in the rear dining room. Shortly thereafter my wife came out of the restroom and went to the front of the restaurant to rejoin me, having been told we'd have to "go away and come back later", expecting to find me waiting for her. But of course I wasn't there - I had been seated in the back. Wondering where I had gone, she waited. And waited. And ... waited. While she paced nervously, wondering what had happened to me, the "boss", young man, and staff glared at her as if she were a trespasser. Other guests began arriving and were seated.
Meanwhile, I began to wonder what had happened to my wife - when the young man came back to my table and asked me if I wanted to "get started" I told him my wife had not come out of the restroom: "Have you seen her?" He said no. I finally went to the ladies' room myself and knocked, called her name and hearing no answer, opened the door - it was empty! Now alarmed, I looked in the front of the restaurant - and outside. It was as if she had disappeared. I felt like I was in a Twilight Zone episode. By then it was nearly half an hour past our reservation time. Exasperated and intimated by the staff's hostile stares, and frightened by my apparent absence, my wife had left, in the rain, thinking they had run me off also.
I asked the young man, the "boss", and the staff if they saw my wife come out of the restroom and they acted like they had never seen her before - even though we came in together and they had shown her where the bathroom was. At my insistence, since my wife's cell phone wouldn't work in Italy, the young man called my hotel for me to see if she had returned there, all the while claiming that he had never seen her. Panicked, I left the restaurant and returned to our hotel as fast as I could. My wife spent what for her was a terrifying 2- 1/2 hours, pretty much lost in Venice with darkness falling, getting back to our hotel, and I spent that time terrified waiting for her. I was five minutes away from calling the polizia when she arrived. Thank God no tragedy was played out that night.
The first step in running a restaurant is customer service. This restaurant failed - miserably. All they had to do was ask the woman pacing anxiously back and forth in their restaurant if there was a problem or if she needed any help. That they didn't direct her to my table when she came out of the restroom and went to the front of the restaurant, or offer to help her is inconceivable, outrageous and unacceptable. That a restaurant this small managed to separate, and lose track of, two of its customers, and failed to reunite them, and deny they'd ever even seen one of them, speaks volumes about how little they esteem the very customers on whom they depend.
The food may be great - I'll never know. The reviews here rave about it. But there is more to running a restaurant than cooking.
It was reminiscent of a certain episode of the 1990s television series 'Seinfeld' - ("No soup for you!"). Arrive a little early and they throw you out in the rain, arrive a little late and they've given your table away. If you get separated, you're on your own. They are desperately in need of a visit from Chef Robert Irvine, but I don't think he speaks Italian. All I can say is, proceed at your own risk. read more