Griggs N.
Yelp
Steve C's review from 2 months ago is nearly identical to what I have to say, which says a lot. Apparently no one in management/ownership pays attention to the reviews or they just don't give a sh...
I've been coming to this Keys location since the mid/late 1970's. I haven't been to this location in a couple years. My review isn't from a position of malice or a one time visit.
I had good memories of meals here. I still like the decor. It's got a certain something that a dinerish place should have. Great booths, not a lot of space, etc. Loud, talkitive energy in the room. It's got a nice patina. I really love the salt and pepper grinders at the tables. Good on you Keys! Fresh pepper and salt are always far better than shakers.
Where Keys used to be an affordable spot to grab b'fast and the fresh hot caramel rolls seemed to roll out of the oven every few minutes - today's Keys feels over priced and offers day-olds from the microwave. Meh.
The two of us swung by this particular Saturday about 8:30am. It was relatively quiet. A server said we could sit where ever we like. So we chose an open booth near the counter and sat. and sat. and sat. AND sat... No further acknowedgement from staff. Eventually about ten minutes (or more?) into our stay a busser finally dropped off some water. ..and then we sat... we discussed our orders. and sat... Marveled at the $6 short-short stack pancake and the $12.50 egg sandwich. ("Damn, they're proud of their egg sandwich!" I thought.) We decided to split some items from each of our meals. We continued to wait... And wait. And wait. A server finally stopped by with a brief smile and a curt, "What're we having?"
"A number two for me, please. Scrambled." I said
"A number three," my partner said, adding, "scrambled," for his eggs.
"Could we have an extra medium round plate with our order?" I asked. "Sure!" was the server's reply, and off she went.
As she neared the kitchen, I yelled to add coffeee to our order. She didn't hear. The busser did, tho, and dropped off one cup. I asked for another and the busser promptly delivered another cup.
So all is well... We finally have our orders in and we have our coffee.
Food is delivered in a respectable amount of time.
And no extra round plate.
"Don't forget the round plate." I reminded the server. "Yup!" she repsonded.
She got two booths away and took another table's order. And apparently forgot.
After having eaten half my meal and still waiting for the extra plate I finally went to the kitchen to ask for the plate. So now I've asked for a round plate three times, and finally the kitchen manager steps up and hands me a plate. The server apologized profusely, but by this point, the damage was done.
Oh hey, our food - I bet you want to know about that, eh? Hashbrowns were probably the highpoint. The scrambled eggs however were over-cooked, flavorless dried pebbles, rolling around on each of our plates. (side bar: Pardon me for wondering, yet again, how *any* restaurant can honestly think that serving unseasoned food is appetizing and worth the price they charge? Any restauranteur or chef wanna take me up on this discussion?) The pancakes, as Steve C. also mused, were like chewing on rubber (or "Rubber balls," as my dining partner said at the table).
While we were eating, a customer was waiting for a booth behind us. After quite a wait, the Kitchen Manager yet again stepped up, grabbed a rag, cleared and wiped the table.
We finished our meal. Empty coffee cups patiently sitting on the edge of the table, hoping for a refill. No server in sight. Plates cleared. And then cups are refilled (if you run a busy, saturday morning restaurant, you'll understand the problem with refilling the cup at this point. Your table just failed to turn.)
Server disappears again. No check, but at least we have coffee! So we sit and wait. And wait. And wait. The line grows at the front cash register with people waiting to hand over money. And we wait. Finally I spy our server back at the kitchen and wave my hands trying to get the bill.
Our tab arrives. The line lingers, trying to pay. No one is taking money. Day-old microwaved carmel roll is "dropped" on a waiting customer - not with a choice, but with a pronouncement, "No fresh rolls, so here's a day-old. $2." (Customer looked crushed, I'm thinking, "I bet he didn't want a day old.") We finally ring out. I'm never asked if I want a receipt. When I ask for a copy of my receipt I'm told (really) "No. Too late. I can't." I tried protesting, but gave up when I realized it was going to be a struggle, just like getting service, the plate, more coffee, or the bill.
Keys, you just broke the camel's back. Don't count on me gracing your door again anytime soon.