Chiapparelli's service makes the experience an unbearable one

I consider myself to be a very understanding person, especially when it comes to food. Having worked in a restaurant, I am especially sensitive to the stresses of the business and the plight of the servers. I am always the first to excuse a longer than expected wait or a botched order and just chalk it up to a bad day.

However, having witnessed the inner workings of the food service industry from the other side of the looking glass has made me no fool. I am still able to recognize when a less than perfect dining experience is not so much the result of "a bad day" as it is of a bad restaurant.

My mom was in town, and as her tight schedules before had always forced us to dine locally, I was looking forward to showing her, my aunt and my sister some of the finer Baltimore cuisine. I researched Baltimore restaurant guides all day and selected what I thought would be an all around winner: Chiapparelli's. This Little Italy eatery boasted rave reviews from multiple Baltimore dining guides, tasty sounding entrees and, most importantly, an address far from 3400 N. Charles St.

Chiapparelli's vast menu offered such Italian delicacies as fettuccini alfredo, osso buco, chicken parmesan and Momma Chiapparelli's famous ravioli. The prices are moderate -- between $12 and $28 for an entrZe -- and the restaurant also boasts an extensive wine list. Although unassuming on the outside, Chiapparelli's is quite a large establishment, perfect for pre-formal dinners or even large group celebrations. Reservations are recommended, especially for a Saturday night like when I gathered family and friends to try this jewel of Little Italy.

I liked the restaurant the minute we walked in. The architecture and interior design reminded one of a garden wine cellar, and I couldn't help but feel as if I was in some old country Italian vineyard. We were seated within minutes of our reservation at a cozy table next to the window looking out into the heart of Little Italy. The night seemed to be shaping up perfectly.

The group ordered a variety of dishes, including gnocchi in marinara, osso buco, penne anna (chicken with penne pasta and sun dried tomatoes) and fettuccini alfredo, to name a few. We devoured the huge loaves of bread served to our table and waited in anticipation of what I had read was simply "excellent Italian food."

Wait we did, however, and unfortunately I cannot tell you, dear readers, whether or not the food lived up to expectation, because it never arrived. About 20 minutes after we had placed our order, our waitress arrived with plates of salad, never to return again. We all demurely picked at the traditional antipasto, saving room for our ill-fated entrees.

After about an hour we were getting restless. Although we had amused ourselves thus long by staring out the window at the thousands of arriving and departing limos filled with Prom goers, our stomachs were rumbling and it was time to eat. My mother kindly asked our waitress if she expected our food out any time soon. She curtly replied that, and I quote "It's a Saturday night -- the kitchen is really backed up."

This immediately struck me as odd. Firstly, yes, Saturday nights at a popular restaurant can get a little overwhelming, especially for the kitchen staff. However, the server is usually perceptive enough (or smart enough to save his or her tip) to inform the patrons of the delay. Also, other servers were bringing food out to their other tables in a constant stream. Nothing that we ordered could have taken this long.

Another 45 minutes passed and enough was enough. My mother and aunt had both been up to complain to the manager and our waitress was MIA. She avoided all eye contact with us and made no further mention of the prospects for our dinner. It was now 8 p.m., and seeing the table next to us -- who arrived well after our 6:30 p.m. reservation, finish their meal and leave, and waited on by the same waitress as we were -- we decided that was the breaking point. My mother calmly hailed down our waitress and asked for the check: we wanted to pay for our wine, and dinner salad, get out of there and start fresh where we could get a meal in under two hours.

As became the tradition that night, our waitress once again disappeared into oblivion. After waiting another 15 minutes just to receive our check, my mother once again summoned the manager. He informed us that there was no check, and we were free to leave. As my mother came back to the table the Gods once again laughed in our faces.

As we were all standing up, preparing to leave, our long awaited dinners arrived. Our waitress smugly ventured, "Oh, are you leaving now? Don't you want your food?" My mother replied that since our food was finally here, we might as well eat it. The waitress then proceeded to counter, "I guess you don't want to eat," and scraped our dinners off their plates and into the trash right before our eyes.

This act of pure, unabashed rudeness set all six of us off into a fury, drawing the manager and many curious eyes to our table. When we told him what had transpired, stunned, he asked our waitress why she had decided not to serve us. "They're lying," she cried like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar, "they're lying, sir, I never said that!"

We had had enough of theatrics. The six of us walked straight out of the restaurant. I could have handled a server who was having a bad day -- I know how hard it is to wait on people during times like that. But I cannot, and will not, tolerate rudeness. Although we were all so incited as we left to never mention the name Chiapparelli's again, I am still a very understanding person; mainly, I want to understand why.

Is Chiapparelli's simply a bad restaurant, or was our waitress a bad example? As time numbs the experience of last weekend, who knows? Maybe one day soon I will find myself back there, and maybe this time I will be able to try the food, to give the restaurant a chance. I will make sure, however, that I am not seated in that woman's section.