I have now tried Midway Pub on three occasions and each experience was fraught with poor service. I most recently tried it this morning for Sunday brunch. Unlike many, I refuse to wait for brunch. Seriously. You can only cook eggs so many ways and I'm not about to wait for an hour for food that I could cook better at home. Brunch is a time to get together with friends and loved ones, eat some hearty breakfast, maybe drink a bloody mary and talk about the weekend and plans for the week. But I digress.
Midway Pub has a wonderful outdoor patio. Don't be fooled into thinking that translates into wonderful service. We sat down immediately and were handed menus by a woman who apparently was impersonating a server because she immediately turned around and left without asking if we'd like coffee or water or speaking to us at all. A few minutes later another woman approached and took our orders for coffee and water. I'm not kidding, but 15 minutes passed and we still didn't have coffee or water. Finally she arrived, breathlessly, with coffee and water and mumbling something about how she had to brew more coffee. Never mind that running out of coffee during Sunday brunch seems unthinkable, but we accepted her apology. Unfortunately, for being "freshly brewed," the coffee was slightly hotter than luke warm. We asked for cream and she brought us a thimble-full in a small wax medicine cup - a popular method of delivering icy Jager but never, in my experience, for delivering cream. Granted, Midway Pub is a "pub" and ostensibly caters mainly to it liquor soaked evening crowds (of which I took part on two previous occasions that will be discussed shortly), but Midway Pub's owners undoubtedly took great expense to build out the place so it's disconcerting to see cream served in a wax medicine cup against the backdrop of it's clean, modern yet soulless interior. My brunch companion and I stared disbelievingly at the miniscule amount of cream and our server promptly explained that she had to get more cream "from the back" and it begged the question as to why she didn't just do that in the first place. Our server continued: "It's Sunday, sorry, brunch, you know, it's crazy!" Whenever a server tells me "it's crazy" or mentions something about "weeds" I picture a field of red flags going up simultaneously with military precision. We surveyed the "crazy" scene and noted that there were three servers handling about 10 tables.
She took our order - the "Dirty Bird Sandwich" (a fried chicken, egg, lettuce, tomato on white bread) and the "Breakfast Burrito w/ Green Chili" (egg, bacon, cheese, hash browns in burrito covered in green chili). We sipped our coffee and time slipped by, slowly, unrelentingly slipped by. After about 20 minutes our server reappeared to fill up our coffee and explain something about "the kitchen" and that she was "sorry" etc. No problem, but then another 25 minutes slipped by and we were sitting outside with empty coffee cups and visible (and sometimes audible) displeasure. I noticed that at a nearby table the customers foisted their credit card into the server's hands shortly after getting their food. Obviously, they knew how long it took to get anything done and were thinking ahead. Finally, 45 minutes after putting in our order, the food arrived. The server explained that the owners/management were in Italy and the cook was new. She noted, with too much enthusiasm given our displeasure, that it was ironic that the cook's name was "Speedy." Ironic indeed. Ultimately, this terrible service undermined would could have been a decent meal because the food was good. The food and the patio garnered the two stars.
The chicken was crispy and the breakfast burrito was nicely toasted. The green chili had a good heat. The hash browns were a disappointment. Although the food was good, under no circumstances was it worth the endless wait.
This was my third and last trip to Midway Pub. On the two prior occasions I had to wrestle the bartenders attention away from themselves in order to place my order. It reminded me of the scene from Top Gun where Maverick and Goose are playing volleyball and give each other hugs and arcing hand slaps after every "amazing" spike (as if Tom Cruise has the hops for that!). The bartenders, who I named Maverick and Goose, seemed painfully self-aware that their hipster personas were as commercially mainstream as frat boys wearing Polo shirts in the 1990s, so instead of focusing on customers, they focused on staving off self-doubt by giving each other knowing nods and making sure to maintain the proper level of detachment and irony. This goes to my central theme about Midway Pub - it's got no soul. It's commercially inauthentic, a fact that's only underscored by anyone who wanders up the block to have a drink at The Earl. Maybe Midway Pub will develop character and soul after it stops trying to be something for everyone. read more