"the steak-tar that ruined my dinner and yet I give him five stars... we spent the weekend in ibiza and, by chance, I played with an article that I named this restaurant. We went to dinner the first night. the place is not bad, well decorated, although the structure reminds a little of the bars that were opened in the eighties. the staff who attended us that night, a tall waiter and something shy, and a professional and pleasant waitress, well. the letter, curious, fun and with a little of everything. I have to say that I am intolerant to the lactose, so there are things that I do not dare to ask, as are the fries. We ask for the tender tongue and a kind of wok with tyrants and reduced onion broth to share; and for a strong dish, some calamities and a syrup. The incoming were richy. prepare the tongue as if it were packed with a powerful vinegar, a complete success. the wok could be improved. as the vegetables did not have the same size, some were hard and others at their point, but the toasted onion broth made this go to a second plane. As for fish, good. The cook must have thrown out my plate twice, but as I understand they're personal drops, I didn't say anything. We paid and left. Two nights later and after unsuccessfully calling the options we had, we booked again. Error. except the two workers mentioned above, who continued to show their professionalism, there were others who came “a little above” in the face of our repetition. We again asked for the tongue, some mussels in pickle, a tortilla (cleared) with glass prawn and two fish dishes ( grilled sausages without garrison and denton). all right here; perhaps my salmonets a little bit past the point, but as the spine was brilliant, I decided to say again nothing to understand that it was “my personal drop”. The problem comes when we finish eating and I'm still hungry. We talked to the waitress who treated us and, after a few minutes of pleasant conversation, we took note of a steak-tartartar and a cheesecake for my boy. That's where it's going to the hook. My boy tells me that the chef sings a couple of times the command, that the cooks approach to see her, but that was not very important to me (although I was already red as a tomato because it is very badly seen that a woman eats when she is hungry) until the woman who seems to occupy the position of maître (of ruby hair and of Basque origin) comes to me. WHAT'S YOUR NAME? If I ever write a cookbook, I'll name you on it. to what I answer: I am starved and, since you have no dessert without lactose, I have asked for this. At that time we should have asked for an account and leave because what this person provoked is that several tables of the restaurant will be staring at us (the ones that were behind turned back). But that wasn't all because I still had to come with another so-worker (morena, long-haired) to make the bromite while raising the dishes. something totally “suitable” because my boy asked for a coffee and didn’t even know. I don't know if this lady will ever write a cookbook. I'm a journalist and my boy, cook. And I will no doubt name them as the restaurant to which the owners prefer that the diners go half-eat; as the only place where they have humiliated me and judged me for asking something I will pay. I could excuse myself that the kind of food we ordered filled more or less, with that we had barely eaten at noon, but why? if we had ordered a second bottle of wine, would I have armed such a stir? I don't have to apologize for asking for food in a restaurant or would it have been better than my account out of 60 € instead of 160? my five stars are because the food is pretty good, because there are two people in the room that deserves to get it."
