Growing up, there were three primary diners for our weekly family gatherings. Summit Garden was one of them - despite my persistent distaste for lobster e-mien; another was Red Lobster, where we somehow always managed to secure a table in the face of winding weekend evening lineups.
Times have changed, inevitably. No longer is the waiting area filled to the brim during evening hours - at least not on weekdays - and no longer are the Cheddar Bay Biscuits the highlight of the experience. It is unclear to me when the graduation from toastiness caressed within cloth napkins to grease spots in a paper napkin-lined wire basket took place, however I can conclude that this change surely wasn't for the best. More starchy than cheesy, and more stiff than crisp, the original Cheddar Bay starter biscuits are no more.
Furthermore, the waitress didn't bother delivering these carby morsels until after orders had been placed - an aspect of the meal that differed from my distant, yet still prominent, memory.
Furthermore, the waitress didn't bother delivering these carby morsels until after orders had been placed - an aspect of the meal that differed from my distant, yet still prominent, memory.
I also couldn't help but notice a sense of urgency in the server's actions. Although one could have perceived her constant appearances as attentiveness, the manner in which such actions were carried out were sufficiently aggressive to cause annoyance and uneasiness.
My favourite fangirl and I had begun to engage in conversation as we began perusing the menu - which, may I add, had failed to be wiped down after each splatter; our intentions to proceed at a leisurely pace were obvious, yet we were repeatedly asked about order placements at intervals of five minutes or less. Incompetent analytical skills were first detected at this point.
My favourite fangirl and I had begun to engage in conversation as we began perusing the menu - which, may I add, had failed to be wiped down after each splatter; our intentions to proceed at a leisurely pace were obvious, yet we were repeatedly asked about order placements at intervals of five minutes or less. Incompetent analytical skills were first detected at this point.
Both of us ultimately opted for the 4-Course Feast, a weekday special that included appetizers, a single entrée, and dessert to finish for $22.99. While in the midst of deciding, the waitress did not hesitate to steer us in the direction of add-ons. Her tone of voice remained unchanged, but her words were misleading.
The first course was Soup, entitling customers to the standard Clam Chowder, or Lobster Bisque at an additional $2.99; the final element was Dessert, which included a Triple-Chocolate Brownie a la Mode or, at $2.99 extra, an alternative from their Dessert Book. Not only did the server breeze through the fee-laced swaps without a single mention of the supplementary costs, one could perceive a tinge of passive aggressiveness to select the pricier menu options.
Truly, I was not a fan of this sly "strategy".
The first course was Soup, entitling customers to the standard Clam Chowder, or Lobster Bisque at an additional $2.99; the final element was Dessert, which included a Triple-Chocolate Brownie a la Mode or, at $2.99 extra, an alternative from their Dessert Book. Not only did the server breeze through the fee-laced swaps without a single mention of the supplementary costs, one could perceive a tinge of passive aggressiveness to select the pricier menu options.
Truly, I was not a fan of this sly "strategy".
< Pictured above and below:
- Triple Berry Sangria
- 4-Course Feast: Clam Chowder, Fresh Garden Salad (no dressing), Shrimp Linguini Alfredo, Triple Chocolate à la Mode
- 4-Course Feast: Clam Chowder, Fresh Caesar Salad, Fire-Grilled Tilapia, Triple Chocolate à la Mode >
The Clam Chowder was utterly depressing, to the extent where I found myself nibbling only on the scarce bits of clam and avoiding the starch-thickened white paste altogether.
The Triple Berry Sangria, from which I had snuck a sip, was watery without emitting much berry-ness at all. Anticipated was a fruity palette; the outcome was a dark red liquid that fell short in terms of both flavour and aromatic properties. A withering single strawberry used as garnish resulted in a deduction of visual appeal points.
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Cravings for a cheesy, creamy pasta dish had prompted this visit. Shrimp Linguini Alfredo had been the auspicious answer to this calling. Served in a medium ceramic dish with nothing more than a dash of parsley as garnish, it would have been an understatement to say I was disappointed with the portion size. Having said that, the platter did succeed in hitting all the notes I had yearned for: thin strands of linguini coated in a luscious Alfredo sauce, then topped with bouncy (tiny) shrimp was a swell combination. I initiated a quick squeeze of lemon juice for a dash of acidity, though others may opt out of this step entirely.
Special mention is owed to sodium control - a factor I fear most when dining out.
Special mention is owed to sodium control - a factor I fear most when dining out.
The Fire-Grilled Tilapia appeared well-balanced overall. However, I have few remarks regarding this dish, as it was personally tasted.
By the time our brownie-and-melting-vanilla-ice-cream duo was placed before us, the waitress began urging us to settle the bill. Before she had bothered to clear our entrée plates, three words were served to us - "Together or separate?". She then proceeded to abandon us immediately after payments had been processed, unsurprisingly.
By the time our brownie-and-melting-vanilla-ice-cream duo was placed before us, the waitress began urging us to settle the bill. Before she had bothered to clear our entrée plates, three words were served to us - "Together or separate?". She then proceeded to abandon us immediately after payments had been processed, unsurprisingly.
The brownie was demolished, while the sickeningly sweet puddle of cream and fudge sauce was left untouched.
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