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Businiess name:
Cafe Martorano
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Review by:
citysearch c.
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Review content:
How to describe the highlights of my visit to this temple of the culinary arts. Was it the waiter who thought tripe was a type of fish? Was it the strip-club decor and pounding techno music that made conversation impossible? Was it the $40 plate of chicken and broccoli rabe? Was it the Mama's meatball scam, whereby the waiter offered to add a couple of extra meatballs to an appetizer, neglecting to tell us it would triple the price of the dish.
No, on reflection, I would have to say it was the team of trained monkeys behind the bar who loudly smashed beer bottles in an attempt to drive us from our table because they wanted to go home early. Real classy.
I have a suggestion for owner and chef Steve Martorano. Why not drop the pretense you're running a restaurant? Take a cue from the fictional gangsters that adorn your walls and as soon as anybody walks in the door, hit them over the head with a plank of wood, snatch their wallet and then toss them into the street.
It wouldn't be that different from what I experienced this week at your execrable establishment.
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