Andrea’s View: Okay, here goes nothing. I have truly put off writing this post for two weeks and one day, simply because I am at a point in my life where I am trying to live by a new, positive adjudge: If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all. Works okay in real life, not in the blogosphere.
So, it was late April, the sun was out and it was about 70ish degrees outside. We felt that we should go on a food adventure, but I really needed to be outside. Dave and I have walked by La Piedad numerous times while visiting Broad Ripple, but we have never eaten there. It fit our criteria, privately owned, ethnic, and most important, it has outdoor seating.
We arrived and noticed the sign stating that we needed to see the hostess for seating. We went inside, no hostess to be found. A very annoyed server asked us what we wanted, and we told him we wanted to sit outside. He sat us near the door in the shade. Near the door, that constantly opened and shut with servers and patrons going in and out. At the time of our arrival, there were multiple seats open in the sun and not near the door, but I wanted to play nice and not complain, so I simmered in the shade and the traffic in silence. I didn’t even voice my disappointment about the table to Dave. Our very brusk, and quite frankly rude, server slammed down a basket of chips with salsa and asked if we wanted drinks. Dave and I ordered adult beverages and he asked us for our IDs. Fine, I get it, excise rules and all, but asking for ID can be done in a “fun, joking, I have to do this way”, not in the “I think you are a criminal and I disapprove of day-drinking way.” Guess which way we were asked?
Drinks came to our table and we were asked, “Are you ready, what are you having?” I looked up and down that menu trying to find something exciting and interesting to order and all I could come up with was chile rojo. It was chicken in ranchero sauce served with tortillas and rice and beans. A while later a plate appeared with chicken in a dark red sauce with tortillas and rice and beans. My past experience tells me that dark red sauce usually means spicy. Not the case here. It lacked any flavor. I couldn’t even tell if any salt had been added. But I was hungry, so I ate it.
After eating and finishing our drinks, our server didn’t come back by. Dave asked if we wanted another round of drinks, I told him we could have cocktails on our own patio in the sunshine. I was ready to leave. I didn’t want to spend another minute in the shade or by the door. After several more minutes we were presented with the check. I asked if we were to pay at the table or inside, and our server shrugged his shoulders. That in itself was the epitome of this whole “adventure”. He, nor anyone else in the place, didn’t really care.
Dave’s View: So Andrea and I went to La Piedad Mexican Restaurant in Broadripple the other day. It’s located next to the Monon Trail and if you’ve been in the area, parking is relativity easy to find. But hold on! The parking lines have been reversed in the area and now you must back into your parking space. Not that easy when someone is directly behind tailgating you. So a word of caution: Be patient and flip people off below the dashboard as they drive by you. (It’s better than being shot at and it lowers your blood pressure.)
Now, it was a nice day when we went to La Piedad and so we decided to eat on the deck. It’s an easy-going deck with not much of a view unless you like watching people walking on the Monon Trail. The deck has seen its better days and is in need of some repairs, like stain, or pressure washing, or just clean it off once in a while? Our server came and of course, you know, Andrea and I order alcoholic beverages whenever we can, so Andrea ordered some wine and I ordered a beer. Now, Andrea has been drinking some magical potion that makes her look 19 years old, when in fact she is almost 40. So the server asks for identification. She smiles and hands over her ID and everything is fine. I’m waiting my turn. It always happens, once Andrea’s ID comes out, mine also has to come out. The server asks for my ID. I have gray hair, I’m balding, and I look like my age, which is going on 49. So what is the moral of this story? I hate Andrea. I’ve been trying to get Andrea to smoke, so she can get some wrinkles in her face, then maybe, just maybe, we would never get carded again. But that will never happen. I’ll just keep feeding her wine.
So now to the food! I ordered the Chilaquiles. Basically corn chips with sauce and cheese piled on top. Sort of like nachos, but with more liquid. In this case, way too much liquid. I’ve had Chilaquiles in the past, but this dish lacked any taste and was very bland. It’s like taking basic diced tomatoes in a can and pouring them over tortilla chips and covering them with cheese. What you get is a plate of soggy corn chips. Not fun.
The service here is overly direct and gruff. No “please” or “thank you”, just “Do you want that on two checks?” Really?
Not again. Am I really that old?
Service: 6 Food: 5 Ambiance: 6 Total: 17 out of 30
$25-$35 with adult beverages
Note #1: The magic potion Dave speaks of is called sunscreen.