About halfway through our dinner at La Buco di Marco, “Welcome to the Jungle” came on the radio. It was the right song at the right time. The restaurant, at that moment, was starting to feel a little wild.
By that point in the evening, our food had come out in fits and spurts; as far as we could tell, one of our dishes had been rung in incorrectly, which threw the whole meal into a tailspin. The restaurant, which sits in a cute space on a Butchers Hill corner, is small and cozy, so we couldn’t help but overhear the waitress and waiter on duty arguing over the mix-up at our table (and possibly other issues, too). At one point, someone from the kitchen came out to the bar area and joined the fray.
Based on our eavesdropping, their hearts seemed to be in the right place. They wanted us to have a good meal. When they spoke with us, they were calm and friendly. But the public (and enduring) nature of their disagreement, set to a steady soundtrack of classic rock, from Axl to Ozzy, made for a meal that was less than relaxing.
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