I got there a few minutes before my friend, so I sat down at the bar with the intention of indulging in a pre-noon pint. Never a bad idea in my opinion, especially when the pint is called Pliny the Elder and is 8% ABV. The long wooden bar spans the length of the restaurant, but at 11am on a Saturday it is rather vacant. After waiting for 5 minutes at the bar while the bar wench or BW (the name of which I will refer to our bartender/ waitress), chatted up a few regulars. No problem, it's Saturday and I'm relatively patient... Maybe her "parched patron radar" kicked in as she finally meandered my way. I ordered my Pliny and waited.
The BW delivered the Pliny 5 minutes later as my friend Pete took up residence on the bar stool next to me. "Let the eating begin" he declared. Having recently ate a Maui Wowie pizza (ham, pineapple, bacon and tomatoes) I decide to clone that and see who reigns supreme when it comes to fruity pizza.
Fifteen minutes later a master piece emerges from the kitchen. BW sets the bubbling, salty sweet pizza in front of us with the parting words "that looks pretty good". Literally parting words... That was the last thing she said to us that day.
I dig into the pizza (burning the roof of my mouth do to lack of patience) and yes, hot damn, was it good. The crust was perfect and crunchy and the pizza had just the right amount of toppings on there so it wasn't weighed down and yet still had substance. Cheers to the guys in the kitchen.
After finishing the Wowie (aptly named I might add) and another Pliny it was time for my productive Saturday to begin. I could have sat in that bar stool all day, but responsibility (and my wife) were calling. The only problem was... we couldn't get the bill.
BW was down at the other end of the bar, chatting again as our empty plates and pints sat on the counter signaling the end of our eating excursion. Once again, we waited. Finally it appeared that she remembered that we were sitting at the opposite side of the bar. She turned, got half way down the bar and then answered her yellow Blackberry... WTF. It was like watching sand fall through an hour glass. Oh wait, no... that was her tip disappearing, not sand.
Since when is chatting on your cell phone considered work and worthy of a tip (back me up Steve Buschemi). If I pulled out my cellphone in the middle of a meeting I'd get punched in the eye by my boss.
Now it would be one thing if BW looked miserable on the phone- say, she just found out her father died or that rash on her face was something other than an acne breakout. Then I would understand. But she was enjoying her chat while I sat there and watch my day waste away, wondering if she would notice or care, that we just walked out (and for the record- I've never ditched a bill). Suddenly, like Mr. Epiphany slapped her on the ass she prints out our bill, drops it off and without a word to us, goes back to her cellphone. Wowie... We pay and leave.
I've been to the Russian River Brewery in Santa Rosa countless time and for the most part I've encountered consistently good pizza and beer. The dilema I run into is to is the dodgy service. This was not an isolated incident, sadly enough. I've been in there when it's virtually empty and I'll wait and hour for the pizza to come out. Other times it's fifteen minutes. Most of the time, when you sit down you need to prepare to kill at least an hour and a half. Is it worth the wait. If you like thin, crispy pizza and a strong brew... maybe. If you like somewhat reasonable service and a BW who actually acknowledges you are alive... I'd stay away. There is an attitude there of "stop wasting my time, I've got better things to do... like talk on my phone.".
You can find better service from a New Yorker with an attitude at NY Pie or someplace similar. It's a shame that the people could ruin such good food. Too bad they don't deliver...
