Every time I drive by a @normsrestaurant, I have an automatic desire for steak and eggs. yesterday was no different. I picked up my friend’s 8 year old daughter and she, my 3 year-old and I started our adventure at Norms.
The lobby was brimming and full but I was able to put in our name for 3 people. The girls played patty-cake, visited the "Claw" toy vending machine, went to the restroom, sat on every waiting room booth and I asked 4 times when our table would be ready so I could cordon off the kids in a booth. Our name was half way don the page but it stood bright and shining, uncrossed as everyone else was picked and seated and a second sheet was placed out for visitors to sign in on.
Half an our after we walked in, as I was gathering twitching and hungry children, my name was finally called.
We were walked down to a booth that had food on the table, a spill on the booth seats and a plate of opened coffee creamers left from the previous visitors. I had to ask for the table to be cleared and cleaned so we could sit.
The girls shared a bowl of Macaroni and cheese which was served 8 minutes before my plate of streak and eggs appeared. Of course, they had completed their meal before mine arrived. When it did arrive, it was inedible. a strange , shoe sole flavor clung to the steak – which was unsurprisingly difficult to eat because I was served a steak and not given a knife. I had to ask for a knife. The 3 year old adopted the hash browns and I asked for a box. As a social worker for the homeless, I considered giving the meal to a homeless person. Then I could not take it. I wrote a note on the box and left it on the table – if the food was not good enough for me, it would be insulting to hand to a homeless person.