Waiter-go

OK, so I might write a food blog. I might eat lots of food. I might enough recipe books to cook for the Spanish Armada. But - when I go out to eat, I don't expect to be made to feel a, silly b, thick c, angry.

I had the pleasurable company of each of these feelings last night when I attempted to have a slightly special meal with my man to celebrate some amazing things he's achieved recently. (Really, he's amazing.)

Instead of 241-ing it (weekday eating out standard), I decided to go for a mid-range splash out and head to Jamie's Italian in Bristol. I've been to the Bristol and Cardiff branches once before. Both times we enjoyed a great atmosphere, friendly service and, above all, amazing food. Needless to say I had some fairly high expectations last night, but from previous experience rather than celebrity-chef endorsement.

Yesterday I went sustainable (go fish!) and chose sardines. I soon learned this was a big mistake. Perhaps stupidly of me, I assumed they might have attempted to fillet the buggers before they served them up to me. Instead I got three beautiful but whole bones-and-all sardines and spent the entire meal (here comes another list) a, fishing out bones b, choking on bones and c, spitting out half chewed mouthfuls. Nice.

Chivalrous as ever, my man insisted on a swap. I finished off his, frankly claggy, carbonara and he went ahead and smiled through his struggle with the sardines.

Disappointed and hunger unsatisfied (sardines were served with a bit of rocket - it was £9), I thought I'd mention something to the waiter. I am not a verbal complainer (I use twitter for that), but I mentioned that I didn't feel like I'd really had a meal because I'd spent the entire time a, fishing out bones b, choki... - well, you get it.

Role reversal time. Imagine I'm the waiter. Here's my response:
"Oh no, what a shame. Sounds like you haven't had the best of times with this meal. Unfortunately they are served whole but I know what a pain they are to de-bone. I'll feed back to the chef about the filleting. Did you enjoy the rest of your meal? Is there anything else I can do?"

Aah, what a nice waiter I am (inadvertently I also seem to have changed sex here - but go with it).

Instead I got:
(shrugs, grunts) "Yeah they come served whole".
(Walks off, chats to other staff who turn and stare at me)

And the moral to this story/play is - I won't be going back there for a while then. Bravo.