A co-working FBvian with a hungry husband tells us about his experience at the new hot spot. Nancy is back in the office, so she can handle the traffic on this one:
After reading about Coal Vines in D, my Brooklyn-born, normally mild-mannered husband was determined to taste the New York-style pies at Coal Vines. He placed a to-go order with Wolf at 7ish on Sunday evening for a large Bolognese. Easy enough, right?
Upon arrival (about 45 minutes after placing the order), he was directed to the bar, where he paid Wolf for the pizza and was told it would be “another 10 minutes.” A survey of the massive coal oven at the back revealed no pizzas in play despite the full-to-capacity crowd inside the restaurant and on the patio.
As the wait lengthened, hubby befriended two of the three people also jonesing for a thin-crust pie to go. The girl said the pizza was excellent but the wait had always been at least an hour for dine-in and longer for takeout. One of the guys echoed the same.
A braless hostess sporting an “It Girl” T-shirt ignored my husband’s query about his order, and Wolf (who was trying to be helpful) repeated the “another 10 minutes” mantra three more times before hubby asked for his money back.
He arrived home pizzaless, ranting about the experience, and bemoaning the lost hour and a half of his life. Sigh. My guy, a sucker for sex and savings, said he would only return if the product was “orgasm-inducing and free.”
