Tonight's dinner was to be at 150 Central Park. One other plus about having a cabin on deck 8 that includes dining at all specialty restaurants - the bulk of your dinner meals are 5 minutes away from your cabin. A walk down the cabin corridor to the elevator lobby, a quick laugh at all the people standing there waiting for their elevator, and head through the doors to the Central Park neighborhood.
We had heard rave reviews about 150 Central Park. Best food, best service. Dad was looking forward to trying the 18 oz. Roast Tenderloin of Beef for Two after trying Murano's version on Celebrity and loving it. Smitha had arranged for a 6:30PM reservation for us and when we arrived, there was 3 other cabins worth of people who had just arrived for their 6:30PM reservations. Took 10 minutes of standing in line to be seated, mostly because the host couldn't find in her system the fact that the group in front of us had reserved for their two cabins to dine together, only the one cabin. The passenger had the confirmation email about the reservation but the host continued to argue with her. Finally the host made a snide comment about letting them in "anyway" and led them to a table. When she returned, she found our reservation easily and we got seated at a two top sandwiched between two other two top tables already in use. Soon, our across the ship neighbors showed up as well and took over the large booth that sits along the far wall. We said a silent prayer to ourselves that tonight's service would go better as our table was right in the line of fire should a baked potato or steak knife go flying like those tortilla chips at Sabor.
We bided our time by trying out the various flavored salts on the bread which got delivered right after we sat down.
Unfortunately, it seems our prayers went unanswered as our service quickly got sucked down as fast as those ship toilets. We didn't get any drinks offered or water glasses filled until 7PM (30 minutes after our reservation time) when a waiter finally came to take our order and filled our water glasses. I don't think we were even asked about bar drinks. We each ordered the Lobster Gnocchi as Dad wanted to try lobster and the Beef for Two cooked medium well. To me I'm hyper about any pink left in my meat; those who can eat medium rare steak send chills up my spine. 7:15PM comes and goes - no appetizer and no one bothers to refill our water glasses. Dad calls the host over and hands her one of Smitha's business cards with a request to "call our genie." Trying out those new "magic words" we felt was so silly to bother doing when Smitha first said to do just that. The host assures us that she'll do that right now and rushes off. Soon after, our Lobster Gnocchi appetizers are delivered.
We each try a bite or two only to find that the lobster is overcooked and tough and those little "potato squares" just wasn't what I had expected. We both opt to not eat anymore and push our plates aside. The host comes back over to inquire as to why we weren't eating. We explain that we didn't like it and ask to have the entrée brought out instead. The host agrees and off she goes. Next thing we know is she comes back with the chef who wants to know why we didn't like our appetizers. Umm, yeah no pressure there. I try to explain that the lobster meat seemed too tough and the chef just kept repeating "Yeah, it's too tough, uh huh." We repeat our request again to have the main entrée brought out now. The chef promises that it's coming right out and leaves. We sat there watching not only the two top tables around us getting frustrated and leaving early but even the dad from our neighboring cabin ran and fetched iPads for all the kids to keep them entertained. Finally after watching several waiters walk past our table bringing the cart for the Beef for Two tableside presentation to other tables who'd come in after us and seeing no response from Smitha, Dad stood at the podium until a manager finally came over to see what he wanted. In retrospect, I probably should have also used the Loop to confirm she'd been called. At this point it was now 7:30PM and Dad stood there making sure the manager called Smitha from the phone right there.
Magically, a waiter rushed to our table ready to do the tableside cutting of our beef entrée so Dad returned to the table. As the waiter starts to cut the meat, I realize it is so pink inside you might as well have colored it with a crayon. I ask if that really was cooked medium well and he insists that it is. I point out that it wouldn't be that bright pink if it was cooked medium well but he keeps insisting. Finally he offers to "put it back under the lamp for a few more minutes" and rushes off. Now I'm not sure whether we're getting dinner or a tan. Smitha arrives soon after and confirms that she only ever got that second call. She asks us to give her a full report on how our service has been and she types all of what we tell her on her phone. The whole time we're having this supposedly private conversation with Smitha, the host who'd lied about calling her the first time kept hovering around fixing and re-fixing the linens at the nearby tables. Obvious - party of you. Once the wait staff sees that Smitha is with us, our new beach ready tanned meat arrives with a rude slam of the plate down on the table in front of me.
A secondary waiter forced a smile as he acted proud to present our side of "potato-leek gratin."
More of the pink was now gone but a little remained. That's not just low light reflecting in the above photo. It reminded me of when someone tries to paint a light color over a dark color paint already on the wall. I tried to cut the meat to give it a taste anyway and it was now too stringy and tough to cut. Dad fought with his and finally got it cut enough to eat. He kept urging me to eat mine anyway but by this point I had lost my appetite. Smitha, bless her heart, was acting like a mother hen trying to urge me to eat something. I assured her that it was okay but right now I wasn't even in the mood to wait on them to bring me a different dish. After getting enough notes for her report, Smitha brings over someone else whom she referred to as a manager and we repeated our evening's timeline for him. He basically apologized and promised that tomorrow night's dinner would be better. Well, I would hope so since it'll be a different restaurant altogether was all I could think. At this point we had to head out for our reservation of tonight's Cats show. We stood outside the restaurant with Smitha as she once again kept apologizing and offering to have something from another restaurant sent up to our cabin for later. I told her to stop feeling so bad because it wasn't her fault and turned down her offer as I didn't expect to want a heavy dish left sitting in our cabin until we returned.
We headed down to the Opal Theater to take our front row end of the aisle reserved seats (unfortunately no seat in between this time as the theater became quite full) and Smitha offered popcorn and drinks. I turned her down at first but she pressed me to at least get a bottle of water as the show was long. She soon brought down a couple also in her care that was staying in the loft suites and sat them next to me. The wife was really into the show but I'm pretty sure her husband was just along for the ride. Fighting the urge to nod off, we were one of the many who bailed at intermission. By now I was in the mood for some sort of quick snack so we tried going to the Park Café. Unfortunately, they were already closed. Dad suggested ordering room service but the thought of potentially waiting an hour wasn't appealing. By the time we did return to the cabin, our nighttime snack delivery had been left in our cabin. Tonight we had the small change of chocolate cake slices as well as the cheesecake. Dad polished off the chocolate cake while I made a dinner of the fruit leftover from our afternoon snack, the other slice of chocolate cake and a handful of popcorn. That hits someone's version of all the major food groups right?
We were still having some rough seas and noticeable ship rocking so those who had reserved the aqua theater show for tonight were disappointed.
Lying in bed this night it felt like my bed was not only vibrating but being pushed back and forth from head to foot much like the feeling of someone kicking a chair out from under you. Our first towel animal of the cruise didn't seem too affected by the movement:
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