I can’t quite seem to place where exactly, our trip to The Homestead restaurant in Tacoma, Washington turned sour. Perhaps it was the content cockroach on my daughter’s high chair. Maybe it was the casual manner in which the waitress bare-handedly slapped it off. Or it could have been the way she absently handed us a new, broken high chair to replace the now soiled one.
Or maybe it was simply the fact that she used her swatting hand to hand my step-father his utensils. What I do know is that before our water had even been delivered to the table, we knew we had made a terrible mistake. As folks who actually prefer customer service, quality and taste, we were sorely disappointed. The Homestead restaurant in Tacoma, Washington was without a doubt, the worst breakfast experience that my family and I have ever had.
Hours later, I can’t help but wonder if our exhausted waitress hadn’t planted that cockroach in an attempt to add a degree of authenticity. After all, the place is called The Homestead. Perhaps she was trying to show us what eating breakfast was like in the 19th century. On a real homestead, a cockroach would have been the least of our worries. Back then, a filthy toilet would have been a luxury. In their day, stale bread was better than no bread. Bitter coffee? Not a problem. Back then they didn’t too much care about flavor.
I grew up in this century, however, which makes me both a little spoiled and a little demanding. I expect sanitized water, service with a smile and edible food – all things that The Homestead restaurant doesn’t exactly pride themselves on. Perhaps I should elaborate.
The Homestead Service
Sometimes the only thing that keeps a bad waiter decent is the lure of a promising tip. Our waitress looked like she had given up on tips decades ago. Slapping off the cockroach was about the nicest thing she did for us. She wasn’t exactly rude, as that would have required some energy, but more absent.
The Homestead Food
To describe The Homestead’s coffee as “bitter” would have been a step up. “Lethal” is a more appropriate description. Though I have never actually tasted rat poison, I’m not completely convinced that something similar had not been injected into our coffee. That, combined with the mildly curdled half-and-half, convinced me that hydration would be better done at home. However, the addition of 2 very stale pieces of white toast and an overdone, rubbery pancake forced me to go against my better judgment and take a sip of the Homestead’s water, to my continual regret. My omelet and hash browns, surprisingly, were moderately tasty.
The Homestead Bathroom
I was happy to see that the bathroom was tolerable. The curdled hand soap was less encouraging though, particularly because I am unsure as to how exactly hand soap curdles.
For $20, would I return to The Homestead? Nope. This modern girl won’t ever go back. If I want to see how my ancestors ate, I’ll visit a museum.