Shortly after sitting down I asked for a different glass of water. I wasn't wearing lipstick, but the plastic glass was. Sometimes this get better after a setback, not so on this Sunday morning breakfast. The first round of food was brought to the table. One friend complained about his scrambled eggs. The probably came out of a prepared carton, but even so, a good cook can whip them around a little bit so they don't just lie around looking limp and lifeless. My friend was prepared to eat them anyway and then he saw the strand of hair. He ordered fried eggs to replace his scrambled selection.
Although my poached egg was over-cooked, my waffle looked good. I poured syrup over it. The my hash browns were delivered along with Peg's scrambled eggs and hash browns. Peg was unhappy with her scrambled eggs, because they had no taste. I looked askance at my hash browns. When I first saw them I didn't know what they were. They looked like burnt white rice. Now, I usually ask for "burnt, burnt, burnt' hash browns, but these looked like they might have gotten really crisp on both side and then the cook tossed them like a salad once they were on my plate. Peg's looked the same. The biggest problem again, however was "no taste." I took one bite. Peg took one bite.
Perhaps, a young cook hasn't been introduced to spices like salt and pepper, yet and perhaps the dishwasher didn't show up this morning, but we didn't have to say anything. Half the meals were comped. One of our friends used to own a café years ago. He felt that The Harvester wasn't a restaurant, but rather a diner. I think that's an insult to diners. I've eaten at The Harvester in Gig Harbor before, but this was the first time I've seen a restaurant strike out repeatedly. Too bad. I think there needs to be some training for part of the staff. I'm embarrassed for the owners. Our waitress did fine.