Buzz Litebeer
Not a Flying Toy
- Joined
- Feb 25, 2007
- Messages
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from the Orlando Sentinel:
Chow Hound
What a wreck of a restaurant
The NASCAR Sports Grille revs its engines and sideswipes its customers with a hit of bad service and lackluster food. Forfeit this one, drivers.
by Scott Joseph | Sentinel Restaurant Critic
August 31, 2007
I'm thinking that if you're going to open a restaurant called NASCAR Sports Grille you can go one of two ways. You can make it really classy, while remaining true to your theme, transcending the stereotype of auto racing as a sport for rubes and recognizing that people of varying social and economic demographics enjoy the excitement of stock-car competition.
Or, you could say, "Hey, these rubes don't care what we do; they'll come in because they like NASCAR, so why even try for good quality?"
With the building and interior of NASCAR Sports Grille at Universal's CityWalk, they took the first stance. Unfortunately with food and service, they went the second route.
This is the second NASCAR-themed restaurant to occupy this piece of real estate. NASCAR Cafe opened in the early days of CityWalk. It was dreadful. Please don't make me relive it by going into details.
I was encouraged on my first visit to this new sports bar/restaurant. I wondered immediately if the designer of NASCAR Sports Grille's interior was the same outfit that did NBA City across the lagoon. (I'm told they are not.)
The exterior of the building features a brick façade with race cars out front and a huge wall fashioned out of a checkered flag overhead.
Inside there are shiny wood floors, banquettes and booths, NASCAR memorabilia and walls of flat-panel televisions. The second level has full-size cars hanging overhead, just like the previous restaurant. But these didn't occasionally rev up and spin their wheels as they did in the old restaurant. At least it didn't happen while I was there.
My first visit went well enough. I bypassed the host stand and found a space at the bar. Although the young woman behind it wasn't all that attentive, I managed to order an innocuous bowl of chili and an OK sandwich.
But my second visit was a disaster from start to finish. The young woman at the front door greeted us by barely opening her eyes. She spoke no words. I told her there were four in our party and she started to grab four sets of utensils rolled in paper napkins from a hamper next to the stand. Someone behind her said something and she dropped the utensils back into the hamper, turned to me and swept her arm in the direction of the stairway. Again, she spoke not.
"Are you trying to tell us you'd like us to go up the stairs?" I asked. Again no words, but the sneer on her face spoke volumes.
The woman at the top of the stairs made the chatty one downstairs seem downright friendly.
Apparently the staff has been told not to speak to the guests. When we arrived upstairs the woman at that host stand simply turned and started walking away. My guests and I stayed put. She turned and seemed surprised that we didn't understand the international body language of hostesses and that she was telling us to follow her.
The upstairs dining area, which has its own bar and a room of arcade games, had almost no diners. So when she showed us to a table in a far, dark corner, I asked if we might have a different table. I tried to use my hands to indicate a flat surface and pantomime the act of sitting.
She showed us to another table, just as dismal and again I said no. Big mistake. The third table was behind a wall, giving us a view of absolutely nothing. "This one?" she asked with great exasperation. She spoke. I was stunned. I gave up. I sat down.
From there everything went downhill. My guests and I ordered the "need for speed" nachos. Forget the speed, these needed a lot more. It was a big pile of tortilla chips with a substance squirted on that resembles the liquid that is served on movie-theater nachos. For the sake of argument we'll call it cheese. It was awful, and there was precious little chili and only a few black olives and jalapeno slices thrown on.
I also ordered the shrimp appetizer, refusing to ask for it by its name: boogity, boogity, boogity. The smallish shrimp were lightly coated and fried, and, according to the menu, "tossed in our famous spicy sauce." They were spicy, but I doubt the fame claim.
Much better were the onion rings, ill-advisedly called O-rings. They were big, lightly breaded and fried just right.
The pit crew pulled pork and the Talledaga cheesy burger were neither good nor bad, they just were. My chicken and rib combo, however, had rubbery fowl and hard and chewy ribs. One of my companions had the strip steak, which was thin, overcooked and dry.
All of this was served by glum strangers who would appear at the table to ask, with perhaps a touch of surprise in their voices, if we had ordered the food they were carrying. Why are all these people so unhappy? Do the managers beat them?
And by the way, where were the managers? I saw nary a one, which probably explains a lot.
NASCAR Sports Grille's hours (you don't really want to know, do you?) are 11 a.m. to midnight daily. The phone number is 407-224-7223.
Ready, set, dine
Saturday begins Orlando's Magical Dining Month, which will last about 30 days. Participating restaurants will offer prix fixe menus of three courses for either $29 or $19. I'll tell you more about it next week, but in the meantime, go to orlandomagicaldining.com for a list of participating restaurants and their prix fixe menus.
Scott Joseph can be reached at 407-420-5514.
sjoseph@orlandosentinel.com
Chow Hound
What a wreck of a restaurant
The NASCAR Sports Grille revs its engines and sideswipes its customers with a hit of bad service and lackluster food. Forfeit this one, drivers.
by Scott Joseph | Sentinel Restaurant Critic
August 31, 2007
I'm thinking that if you're going to open a restaurant called NASCAR Sports Grille you can go one of two ways. You can make it really classy, while remaining true to your theme, transcending the stereotype of auto racing as a sport for rubes and recognizing that people of varying social and economic demographics enjoy the excitement of stock-car competition.
Or, you could say, "Hey, these rubes don't care what we do; they'll come in because they like NASCAR, so why even try for good quality?"
With the building and interior of NASCAR Sports Grille at Universal's CityWalk, they took the first stance. Unfortunately with food and service, they went the second route.
This is the second NASCAR-themed restaurant to occupy this piece of real estate. NASCAR Cafe opened in the early days of CityWalk. It was dreadful. Please don't make me relive it by going into details.
I was encouraged on my first visit to this new sports bar/restaurant. I wondered immediately if the designer of NASCAR Sports Grille's interior was the same outfit that did NBA City across the lagoon. (I'm told they are not.)
The exterior of the building features a brick façade with race cars out front and a huge wall fashioned out of a checkered flag overhead.
Inside there are shiny wood floors, banquettes and booths, NASCAR memorabilia and walls of flat-panel televisions. The second level has full-size cars hanging overhead, just like the previous restaurant. But these didn't occasionally rev up and spin their wheels as they did in the old restaurant. At least it didn't happen while I was there.
My first visit went well enough. I bypassed the host stand and found a space at the bar. Although the young woman behind it wasn't all that attentive, I managed to order an innocuous bowl of chili and an OK sandwich.
But my second visit was a disaster from start to finish. The young woman at the front door greeted us by barely opening her eyes. She spoke no words. I told her there were four in our party and she started to grab four sets of utensils rolled in paper napkins from a hamper next to the stand. Someone behind her said something and she dropped the utensils back into the hamper, turned to me and swept her arm in the direction of the stairway. Again, she spoke not.
"Are you trying to tell us you'd like us to go up the stairs?" I asked. Again no words, but the sneer on her face spoke volumes.
The woman at the top of the stairs made the chatty one downstairs seem downright friendly.
Apparently the staff has been told not to speak to the guests. When we arrived upstairs the woman at that host stand simply turned and started walking away. My guests and I stayed put. She turned and seemed surprised that we didn't understand the international body language of hostesses and that she was telling us to follow her.
The upstairs dining area, which has its own bar and a room of arcade games, had almost no diners. So when she showed us to a table in a far, dark corner, I asked if we might have a different table. I tried to use my hands to indicate a flat surface and pantomime the act of sitting.
She showed us to another table, just as dismal and again I said no. Big mistake. The third table was behind a wall, giving us a view of absolutely nothing. "This one?" she asked with great exasperation. She spoke. I was stunned. I gave up. I sat down.
From there everything went downhill. My guests and I ordered the "need for speed" nachos. Forget the speed, these needed a lot more. It was a big pile of tortilla chips with a substance squirted on that resembles the liquid that is served on movie-theater nachos. For the sake of argument we'll call it cheese. It was awful, and there was precious little chili and only a few black olives and jalapeno slices thrown on.
I also ordered the shrimp appetizer, refusing to ask for it by its name: boogity, boogity, boogity. The smallish shrimp were lightly coated and fried, and, according to the menu, "tossed in our famous spicy sauce." They were spicy, but I doubt the fame claim.
Much better were the onion rings, ill-advisedly called O-rings. They were big, lightly breaded and fried just right.
The pit crew pulled pork and the Talledaga cheesy burger were neither good nor bad, they just were. My chicken and rib combo, however, had rubbery fowl and hard and chewy ribs. One of my companions had the strip steak, which was thin, overcooked and dry.
All of this was served by glum strangers who would appear at the table to ask, with perhaps a touch of surprise in their voices, if we had ordered the food they were carrying. Why are all these people so unhappy? Do the managers beat them?
And by the way, where were the managers? I saw nary a one, which probably explains a lot.
NASCAR Sports Grille's hours (you don't really want to know, do you?) are 11 a.m. to midnight daily. The phone number is 407-224-7223.
Ready, set, dine
Saturday begins Orlando's Magical Dining Month, which will last about 30 days. Participating restaurants will offer prix fixe menus of three courses for either $29 or $19. I'll tell you more about it next week, but in the meantime, go to orlandomagicaldining.com for a list of participating restaurants and their prix fixe menus.
Scott Joseph can be reached at 407-420-5514.
sjoseph@orlandosentinel.com
some of those strollers probably cost more than my 1st junker car did!
