Last Wednesday night, my boyfriend and I were completely stumped as to what to make for dinner. He wanted pizza, and I hadn’t eaten in three days. Then we remembered this hot little spot, right on Liberty Avenue. We had never been, but heard good things.
The courteous wait staff had us seated in a room within minutes! I never expected such prompt service. It didn’t take long for them to administer some liquids. Jon had a Mountain Dew, and I had a Morphine IV. Maybe my expectations were a bit high, but the morphine left me dizzy and in lots of pain…ew! Our waiter said this was highly uncommon, and brought me several more drinks to try, including a “GI Cocktail”; liquid antacid, vicous lidocane, and an anticholinergic. The waiter (who insisted I call him”doctor”, whatever) said I should drink it like a shot – which I did – and it was NASTY. Do people really order this stuff??? It was like jager, but didn’t make me blackout.
Okay, actually, it was exactly like jager.
The staff couldn’t understand why I didn’t like the drinks, so they decided to move us to our own private suite on the eighth floor; ooh, la la! I guess it was kind of a hotel/restaurant, and my complaining entitled me to a two night, three day stay!
They brought out the first course, and unfortunately I was too wasted to take a picture of it. But it consisted of a shot of cranberry cocktail, a soggy/burnt english muffin, and some other stuff. I took a few bites of the english muffin, but felt too sick to finish anything. Jon had enough already and stormed out, so I was dining alone. How embarrassing.
My waiter must have ended his shift. Didn’t get a chance to tip him out. Oh well. My new waitress was nice, and asked what I’d like for my next course – lunch. She listed off their mainstays: ham sandwich, turkey sandwich, tuna salad sandwich, chicken sandwich. I said “Anything without meat?”.
“We could make you a grilled cheese?”.
“Perfect,” I said, before falling back asleep. Hours later, I woke up to this:
My grilled cheese was excellent. Buttery, but not real-buttery. I mean, it was very buttery, but it wasn’t real butter. I think it was that Promise stuff. Somebody fried it up nicely, though the bread was stale. The tomato soup was honestly the best thing I ate the entire time I was there. Didn’t mix well with the ginger ale, though. My tummy felt upset, but I reluctantly put in my order for dinner. At this point, the Maitre d’ had explicitly suggested I not eat anything that would give me heartburn. Obviously, that message hadn’t reached the kitchen. After a few more hours of tv, sweating, and pain, it was dinner time.
They called it “French Bread Pizza”. It smelled like “French Dead Pizza”. I took one bite and tossed it out. But to be fair, I didn’t really have much of an appetite left. I did try to eat the salad, without the dressing, and got most of it down. I don’t really think it’s fair to call lettuce and carrots a “salad”, or even a “tossed salad”. Dessert, the orange sherbet, was half melted and tasted like styrofoam. After this atrocious meal, Jon came back, dismayed that I was still THERE, and smuggled in some Sun Chips and a PB & J for me. I’ve never had to actually smuggle food into a restaurant before. It gives you an idea of just how nasty the food was! It was almost as if it wasn’t really a restaurant at all!
It felt like I had been there for days, and they ended up bringing me another breakfast. More soggy english muffins. I didn’t even look at the tray. The wait staff had had it with me, and they decided to let me try their specialty; “The Liquid Diet”.
How visually appealing! Everything was great about this meal, except the beef broth, which I guess nobody realized is non-vegetarian. I love how it looks like a big black hole in this picture. That’s what it smelled like, too. If black holes had a smell.
The Jell-O was the best thing I had tasted in years, or what felt like years. Coincidentally, it was the only thing I could really keep down. The italian ice had its pros and cons. Pros: cold, not-solid, didn’t taste like styrofoam. Cons: Melted, not-orange flavor, tasted like plastic.
A liquid lunch and a liquid dinner will do wonders for an upset tummy, and for a weary hotel/restaurateur like myself. I hit the hay (by the way, the beds – UGH!) and woke up to a bountiful breakfast which I was, again, too lazy to photograph. It consisted of French Toast (grilled cheese without the cheese) and Special K, with lots and lots of cranberry juice cocktail to drink. It tasted terrible. I devoured it anyway. At this point, I think I just wanted my money’s worth.
It wasn’t long before they presented me with my third and final lunch — the coup de grace:
This masterpiece also came with tomato soup and french fries. I wiped my eyes in disbelief before taking a bite.
“Yep, that’s a real cucumber!”. To hell with freshness. This was the first thing I ate there that wasn’t brown or red. Finally, my appetite was back. I went a little overboard.
As you can clearly see, I ruined the salad by taking out the onions and tomatoes, and adding ranch dressing and french fries. Whatever. I finally got to leave.
West Penn Hospital is a TERRIBLE restaurant, but it had its advantages:
- Mostly-friendly wait staff
- I felt weirdly healthier after leaving
- The view was nice
I give West Penn Hospital a 4/10 rating for food, and a 10/10 rating for not killing me.