The Design District's Fratelli Lyon
stands out for its authentic take on Italy's light fare. From the
antipasti, salumi, and formaggi to the house-made pastas,
the restaurant prides itself on staying true to modest portions and
freshness.
But is the food worth enduring subpar service and perhaps sitting in a dark
concrete hallway?
How can the staff members be so rude, and
poorly trained, at an eatery offering $12 salads and $27 entrées?
How can they justify seating customers in a dim hallway at a cocktail table
with plastic seats? Why is it so damn dark you have to strain to read the olive-oil-stained paper menus folded in half? Why couldn't they chill the
room-temperature water served in a reusable one-liter glass bottle? And why do the shabbily dressed order-takers
("servers" is reserved for those of a higher calling) -- wearing jeans and sneakers and lacking knowledge of the menu and the
basic requirements of their profession -- allow patrons to wait more than ten minutes for cocktails?
By the time the rude order-taker returned, our appetites had vanished and we decided not to order dinner. When we asked for the check, the order-taker processed the credit card, set the bill on a plate, and returned to pull the payment off the table before we were finished with our drinks.
