How might one describe the sentiment of this review?
When the increasingly creepy chef-owner Jeff Smedstad lost his half of the restaurant in a divorce, we had hopes that this place might actually serve normal food. Jeff's penchant had been to offer cutesy specials which were all presentation and no substance and sneer at anyone who dared to order from the menu. Sad to say, things have gone from worse to "worser". Mystery meat abounds. Strips of chicken skin fill the rolled-up items. It as if this is a convenient way to get rid of the garbage rather than having it hauled off. The food ranged from barely acceptable to disgusting. It's a tiny place in the Pep Boys parking lot, housed in what used to be a veterinary clinic (no joke). So perhaps that's why the cuisine is reminiscent of something made out of the day's losers at Turf paradise. Margaritas taste like antifreeze unless you order the super premiums which won't leave any money left for ordering food and that may be a good choice. Portions are small and overpriced but if you get there before the Pep Boys garage closes you can dine to the sound of air wrenches and tire machines. Ah, so romantic. A true godawful experience....Available options:
(a). negative.
(b). positive. I think the answer is
(a).