An unhappy customer
As I was reading the article on Harding Lee Smith [“Satan’s Sous Chef,” July 2013] I would not have believed a single story had I not had a run-in with this ASSHOLE myself. I was a customer, not an employee. I must say that the DiMillo’s employee that pulled him from the water did us a disservice.
I do know the depths of alcoholism can be fierce. One can only hope that he and his wife see the light and get help for their problem drinking. The sad thing is that for the most part his food is very good. But what leaves an everlasting bad taste in my mouth is HSL himself. I tell everyone I know not to go to his places of business, as he treats his customers and employees like dirt.
I also hope, hearing that his wife is pregnant, that she has made the wise choice to stop drinking during this time period. But then again, she married HLS, so it does not look like wise choices are in her wheelhouse, so to speak.
Great article, and keep up the good work!
Carl M. ter Weele
Falmouth
Another unhappy customer
Your recent article, “Satan’s Sous Chef,” put into words what I never could about Harding Lee Smith and, in particular, his wife, Darcy. Thank you.
Without hyperbole, I had the worst experience at a restaurant in 35 years at the hands of Darcy at The Grill Room. Long story short, after the kitchen completely botched my entrée (the server and everyone else agreed), I sent it back like any customer would. Twenty to twenty-five minutes later, my new entrée arrived and all was well. However, at this point, of course, the whole experience of the evening was marred by the mishap, as everyone else in my party had eaten by the time my new entrée came out. When the check came, one would expect (especially at a “nicer” restaurant) to have something comped for the inconvenience: if not the entrée, then at least an app, desserts, a round of drinks — heck, even a drink, something. When nothing was comped, I asked to speak to the manager. Took me a number of layers to get to Darcy (apparently, she’s well guarded).
She came out from the back like a bat out of hell in an expletive-ridden tirade, attacking me from the outset. Keep in mind, I had never met her or spoken to her, and she comes out firing with, “I’m not going to f—ing comp anything!” I tried to counter with kindness and kept my cool the entire time: “Hi. I’m Greg. I’m a customer of yours. Let me explain what happened.” That didn’t work and, in fact, got her much more upset. After some more back and forth (again, I kept my cool the entire time), she stormed off while I was mid-sentence. Never had that happen to me before, let alone at a restaurant.
I was eventually offered $5 off my meal. What a slap in the face. The server apologized profusely. Even other servers who had heard what had happened came up to me and apologized and complimented me for sticking up to her — or at least trying to. It was clear that every server I met in The Grill Room knew what a witch she was. I don’t understand how they could work for someone like that. I don’t understand customers who could support someone like that.
Needless to say, I haven’t been back to The Grill Room or any other HLS restaurant. Hopefully, after reading your article, others won’t either.
Thank you again. Kudos on a well done, well researched article.
Greg Marsh
San Francisco, CA
And yet another one
I’ve had pasta dishes at two of the “Rooms.” They were apparently cooked right, because both were “cool in the center.” Despite rave reviews and charitable events, my food was the same “pieces of s—t” that the employees and customers were called.
I say this, but I’m also stupid, I guess. You can taste the hate in every bite. Oh boy.
Doug Bither
Portland
Help me, Tackle Box!
Fishing In Public has been my favorite writing in public for, well, since it commenced. So much so that I asked for an ocean-worthy fishing pole for my birthday, as I could not afford one myself. However, now that I have it, I am confounded. There’s line that has to go on there, and a hook? For the slugs or other bait? Probably techniques for casting so I don’t hook my eye?
Family fishers are in the Midwest and not available for hands-on training. None of my local friends fish. I plead for guidance. Any chance Billy would give me a fishing lesson? I’m pretty good at clamming, and I got a place to go — for reciprocity. Also, I have a cooler bag that will carry a 12-pack. Of bait, I mean.
Gwynne Williams
Portland
