Il se peut que vous soyez redirigé
"private parking convenient,Arrived at 13h45, no problem for lunch!practice and nice,Hot reception, midi training 15€, cheap,"
Téléphone: +33238308500
Adresse: 50 Faubourg de Paris, 45300 Pithiviers, France
Ville: Pithiviers
Site Web: http://www.scala-pithiviers.fr/index.php/fr/2013-11-18-12-47-54
Plats: 4
Commodités: 7
Catégories: 5
Avis: 80
After a long road, it is always comforting for the tired traveler, to stop for a short time in a place where he can get up and then regain strength before continuing his path. This is in any case what we all aspired to, my work colleagues and myself on the move for a two-day seminary, when, coming from nantes, we decided, at the time of departure, to make a gourmet stop at the pizzeria "la scala", in the center of pithiviers (50, faubourg de Paris). Around 12:05, I stopped my vehicle on the parking lot of the hotel by this beautiful sunny morning end of March 14, a sign of the spring that finally comes. The place seemed warm and well-kept. Suddenly I felt that I was going to be able to restore myself to a happy company. a quick look at the parked vehicles told me that some nantais had already arrived, probably at the front of a refreshment. Obviously I was the last. The time to break down the capote of my cabriolet and I climbed the steps four to four the palace willing to appreciate all the flavors that the chef would offer me. the room upstairs was at the three-quarters full. “The table must be good to be so busy. "I thought so. I quickly spotted the taboo of my workmates, crossed the room with an alert step and after the greetings of use, I settled at the end of the table, ready to play fork and knife, the appetite wide open.Three of my colleagues had just taken place a few minutes before me, the others had already placed order. In good last, we compelled the suggestions of the chef, acknowledging the discovery of the map of the comments of use, then we threw our devotee on the merlu plate, alleviating to wish and which differentiates from the pasta and other "pizze" usually served in this type of hostel. and as in a well-minded choreography, a smiling waitress quickly investigates our choices, stating that it added our order to that of the whole table. Then, we waited patiently by tasting the drink requested as an aperitif and ready to be served (it was a glass of white wine for my part), allying in the basket After about half an hour, my table vis-à-vis questioned the slowness of the service, emitting the idea that perhaps, the kitchen had not noticed the modification of the order of our table. She tried to heal the waitress on several occasions, but she did not notice the small gestures of the hand, executed to draw her attention, all of which she was to serve the nearby tables. About ten minutes later, that is, around 12:50, I trusted the spokesman of the tabloid and directed me to the crate to ask “our waitress” to make sure to the kitchens that our order had been taken into account by the chief, but that I understood, seen the affluence, that there might be delay in the service. As a supplement, I also told him that we were expected around 13:30 at the same time, and that.... Unfortunately, I did not have the time to finish my sentence, interrupted in my explanations by a quidam (who finally became the boss of the place) and who, against all expectations, triggered a skirm in his own establishment by treating me of “no one totally deprived of the least piece of intelligence (*)” and in Italian, probably so that I did not understand what he was saying to me. Now it turns out that I am perfectly bilingual and answered in the same language that there were no worries on my side: that everything was fine. It was then that the reddish and quite avinced individual, began to advocate and insult me from the most rude of the ways, explaining that it was because of “people like me” that we were eating badly in france and that I had no taste for the good cuisine. That there were mac do for the people of my species who always have the “fire behind” and that in his home, we used only foods prepared in the kitchen, that it took time and that I had only to “close my mouth” and go “sently put my back-train” in my place or “get out my detestable person feeling the unhealthy weld” from home. Remitted to my surprise in the face of such vehemence, for it is true that in normal times, in front of such attitude, I would have sent him a pretty flower to five petals in the figure to calm him down, I made efforts not to get out of my "zenitude". But now, it is true that in the presence of my colleagues, I began to confuse myself as an apology while explaining to him that there was no problem and that I was going to sit down. Combining the gesture to the word, thinking that it would calm the “speaking ardours frustrating the red zone of the overdity” of my interlocutor, I crossed the room a bit in the opposite direction, with the hope of ending a situation that did not deserved the extent that this Mr. tartempion had given to what I thought was a non-event. But that was not true! On the contrary, he took me the step to my table, screaming behind my back to whom I would hear it that I was an individual "whose conduct was very unpleasant to him" who had nothing to do in a restaurant since I was not going to "the gamete that had conceived me" and that he did not need me to do business so soon, taking advantage of me, he was red and suffocated by "sur-solliciter his vocal cords". Finally, he rebroussa path, followed by the discorded and dissonant notes of his insults straight out of his hateful mouth. A few moments of welcome, I must admit that.My colleagues were all over my head. I trembled with all my members, enraged by anger and with a furious desire to "shudder the ribs vigorously". But I don’t trust it.Finally, our dish arrived, but my appetite had finally gone away with the sweet words of my host “so kind in my regard.” the so-called poached merlu was swimming at the bottom of our plates in a clear juice. it had the consistency of a sponge and an insipid taste. I definitively pushed back my plate in front of me, shattered by the scene.During these a few surreal moments, we vainly tried to resume a normal conversation but only five minutes, the cerbère returned to the charge, always with its "so good intentions for me and beautiful flowery thoughts". I tried to calm him down, but I quickly found that nothing did, on the contrary, he acted as the fire on which he was blown to rekindle him. He left and then returned for a few moments later to pour out his "sernade nausea of sunny jurons". Excedededed, I then threw him a "enough!" imperious. He went away, but did not cease, to affix me “of all the names of birds of creation.” I silently placed my order of a ristretto coffee that I had asked for very tight and which was served to me “alongato”, a sacrilege thing for a restaurant that wants to be Italian. I didn’t comment on the conditions: no need to add them.Break, taking advantage of a moment of caliphate, the cries of the irritant outside of the ear, I decided to settle my hat and disappear from the place before it cuts back to me a new salve of insults. The addition was heavy but I nevertheless noted that my money was accepted by the house without a brow, (as in these places, we also love the denarii of the "people who like to do nothing"). I devaluated the steps four to four, eager to find refuge in my vehicle which was waiting wisely under the sun. The time that my colleagues spend at the cashier in their turn and join me in the parking lot, I dispossessed my car while grilling a cigarette, a story of finding a little serenity: I was out of danger. It was then that I saw my “transalpine excitement” crossing the yard at the charge pitch to address a new gust of “neapolitan jewels” such as “cuistre, person penetrated by a forbidden hole, son of unknown father and other malpropre peritian”. He insisted in his “imaged and very flowery gratifications” by specifying in the passage that he was not surprised by my behavior of “liquid and nausea discharge”, because I had a car of “no one having relations against nature that we lend to our friends the seals or the Greeks”. I almost got out of my gonds at that time: great evil would have taken me. In short, if you wish to insult and maltreat by the housemaster and swallow a salad of jurons of any acabit, scented with the basil "great" and olive oil, I can only recommend this place inhospital and O how extraordinary. As for me, in addition to having been received as a “canine companion suffering from the gale”, I intend to lodge a complaint against this “signore” for insults and, more serious, about homophobe (I have about ten witnesses). I sincerely complain about the young women who are at his service and who must bear this type of behaviour on a daily basis. However, I comfort myself by saying that the fact of being treated as “undoubtedly very stupid” by a “unlessed individual of any basic intellectual faculty” is a fine gourmet judgment that is probably accustomed to ingesting only ordinary dishes and a transcendent fadness. At least I've been for a time, chilling, spicy sauce, vinaigrette, the pesto of its ethyl day and autocrat bite*(. - of course, I did not use the real insults so as not to shock sensitive souls. understand who can.
a meal that had yet not started badly ... but that was ruined by the boss, this odious character who insults for free the customers who make him live!!! a surrealist moment that I still have trouble digging. restaurant to avoid absolutely, this boss does not deserve his customers!!
