On Friday I went out for drinks after work with a couple of work friends to Local 188 on Congress Street. We had a grand time, sitting at the bar and chatting about life. I was drinking a lovely red wine, Perquita I think that's how you spell it), and we had a few tapas as well.

A note about Local. Prior to their move to their new location this summer, we went there very frequently, often for brunch on the weekends. Then, during their closure over the summer, we got out of the habit. And after the reopening, a few friends of ours had horrible experiences-- mostly in the service arena. I always loved the waitstaff at the old location. They were sometimes sort of out of it, but always really sweet and thoughtful. Unfortunately, our reporters (who shall remain anonymous for their own protection) told us that their experiences involved extreme bitchiness, long waits, and, on one occasion, complete lack of food. (Evidently the waitress never put in the order.) As a result of these stories, we've been a bit reluctant to dine at the new location. Then, we tried to go for dinner a couple of weeks ago, and it was closed for a private party.

I have been to the bar on a few occasions, through. It's a gorgeous space, and really lovely to sit in.

Anyway, the original plan for Friday was for me to have a few drinks with my friends, and then pick up some thai food on my way home for Otis. However, the Dreaded Lazy Wine Drunk&trade: struck and I found myself still at Local with Monique, still sitting at the bar, and still chatting. So instead of trying to get my shit together, I just called Otis and had him meet us at the restaurant.

I should interject here that our bartenders were absolutely lovely. The first one, a woman who looked awfully familiar (maybe she also/used to work at the White Heart?) was very attentive, and thoughtful-- when Monique said she was very hungry, even though the kitchen wasn't open yet, she scrounged up a dollop of olive tapenade and some bread. Later, our second bartender, a man with very impressive mustaches (think Daniel Day-Lewis in Gangs of New York), was also great.

Before Otis arrived we had some tapas. Did I mention that already? If this post seems disjointed, it's because the three glasses of wine I had really went to my head, so my memories of the evening are somewhat disjointed as well. The combination of the wine and not enough food turned out really badly for me.

So. Tapas. Shrimp in garlic, and chourico. Both dishes were delicious, although I would like to complain that the shrimp, instead of the lovely little sweet Maine shrimp we used to get at the old Local, were big 'ol prawns. Still delicious, but I think the little ones are superior for soaking up the buttery garlic sauce. The chourico was perfect. The bread and olive tapenade I mentioned earlier was tasty, although the bread was not as good as the pile of shredded bread they used to give you-- this had a much more tender crumb and less body.

Then for dinner, I made the cardinal sin of not ordering enough food. I got a spinach salad, which was delicious, with calabrese chese and nuts... but it wasn't enough to soak up the wine, and I woke up at 5 in the morning with a hideous headache.

Those who did order enough had a very tasty meal; Otis loved his penne with romesco sauce, and Monique's roast chicken with white beans looked and smelled divine. She loved it.

All in all, it was a fun evening, and I'm once again jazzed on Local. But next time: more food, l less wine.

We had a wonderful weekend last weekend, as Otis's parents Jane and Walter came up for the Maine Boatbuilders Show, some delicious eating, and lovely conversation.

Friday night we went to Local 188 for fancy old-timey cocktails, and then headed over to Caiola's for dinner; as usual everything was delish (channeling Rachael Ray, sorry), especially our deep-fried sardine appetizer.

It's always nice to have Walter and Jane here, although they do tend to bring pretty crappy weather with them-- what's up with that?

Anyway, my fingers are sore from all the typing I've been doing on the big paper I have due Tuesday, so I hope everyone will forgive me for a short-but-sweet entry. Happy Easter!

So, I'm still in the depths of finals (urgh! argh!) so I am going to be brief, but I wanted to relate a couple of experiences I've had lately that have led me to do a lot of pondering about customer service and its role in how a customer feels coming out of a restaurant.

So, about a month ago Joe and I met at Hot Suppa for breakfast. it's a restaurant I go to periodically, and I am always pleased with the food-- it's nothing fancy, but it's always cooked well, and menu features creative touches like fried green tomato Benedict and a bacon-of-the-week. The service is always quite friendly and prompt; again, nothing fancy but the staff are always thoughtful.

Anyhoo, on the day I met Joe there I was feeling a bit more lunchy than breakfasty, and they had a sandwich special that sounded delicious. It came with tomatoes on it. Now, I have nothing against the tomato, but raw March sliced tomatoes are usually mealy and unappealing, in my opinion, so I asked for the sandwich without the tomatoes.

"I'm sorry," the waiter said. "The kitchen won't allow us to do substitutions."

So, whatever.... I didn't really care-- how hard is it to take the tomato off of a sandwich? Not at all, clearly. So I said fine, got the sandwich, took the tomatoes off, and went on my merry way. (It was a very tasty sandwich, for the record.)

But ... there was just something about that response, and such a fixed policy, that just sat wrong with me. I couldn't quite figure out why it bugged me so much, though.

It came into focus a couple of weeks ago. A friend was visiting Portland in preparation for her move up here, and doing some househunting. She's a vegan, and although we had made plans to brunch during her visit, I was a bit anxious about finding her an adequate vegan meal. It's not like Portland, Oregon-- when I lived there very single breakfast place kept tofu in stock for tofu scrambles.

Anyway, I wasn't sure where to go, and I asked a few people, and heard a few different options, none of which seemed absolutely perfect. So, I figured that because Local 188 has so many salads on the menu for its brunch, it would be a good spot just in case nothing else worked. (Also, in general, their brunch is one of my favorites in town. The huevos rancheros es muy delicioso! But that is not the point of this story. And I do not speak Spanish.)

We met and sat at the bar. Of course, any vegan worth her salt is used to having complicated food-related conversations with servers about what the restaurant can and can't provide-- so I must admit, I was probably more anxious than she was about whether she'd find something that she could eat.

And it was so easy! Nathaniel, the bartender, once he heard that my friend was vegan, was happy (excited even!) to go check with the chefs and see what they could rustle up. They ended up making a beautiful-looking veggie stir-fry with garlic, and potatoes on the side, and some slices of French bread. It never seemed like anyone in the restaurant felt put out in any way-- in fact, they all seemed thrilled to have an opportunity to figure out how to serve the customer in the best way, and make her happy.

Quite a contrast to a policy that the kitchen can't leave a slice of tomato off a sandwich, I thought.

I don't want to be overly harsh on Hot Suppa-- I know they have a small kitchen, with probably limited staff, and as I said I've always had tasty meals and good service there.

But the experience at Local 188 was so pleasant, and lovely, that it reinforced to me how important it is from the customer's perspective to feel like the goal of the restaurant is to provide you with a meal that you enjoy. It's not that complicated, and it truly makes a difference in you emotional connection to the restaurant, and how much time you want to spend there.