<*dv_0*> One Saturday in Reading a short while ago my other half, Mr B, decided to embrace his feminine side and insisted he absolutely HAD to have new shoes for our night out.
<*dv_2*> Reading is filled with super smart shops and chain eateries, and there always seems to be a new place opening up almost every week at the fabulous Oracle shopping mall, so hed have plenty of choice for his excited shoe shopping.
<*dv_1*> On route to the beloved shops we came across the newest addition to the Oracles restaurants by the riverside, a place called Tootsies that had posters everywhere that boasted, The best burger youve ever eaten. Well, this claim made Mr B forget all about Oooh, New Shoes and suddenly realise that it was lunchtime.
It would seem that all of Reading had been enchanted by Tootsies confident claims and there was a queue outside the packed restaurant. Undeterred Mr B and I joined the queue and joined everybody else who was waiting in the pleasant but necessary game of What are they eating? It looks nice.
Within a couple of minutes a 12 year old waitress took our seating order and told us it would be about 20 minutes for a table and would we mind getting a drink while we waited? An excuse for alcohol consumption? We didnt mind one bit, so we found a couple of chairs near the bar and Mr B went to get a couple of drinks for us. On his return about 15 minutes later he huffily informed me that the bar staff had been in fact purely ornamental. On standing at the bar, and catching the waiting attendants eye, the barman had totally ignored Mr B and started talking to his mate. Being terribly English Mr B didnt make a fuss but carried on trying to catch his eye again and take his chance to order a drink. It took 10 minutes before the barman realised he was never going to get rid of him without plying him with alcohol.
While sipping our drinks we eyed the menu and salivated at the delights on offer. For a starter I decided to go for their Dip! Dip! Dip! which was focaccia bread with some dips (ok that was obvious I guess, otherwise it would have been Bread! Bread! Bread!) followed by a Lamb and Rosemary burger for my main course. Mr B went for the Chargrilled Teriyaki Chicken Skewers followed by the Mushroom and Stilton Burger. We rubbed our hands with glee and anticipation when we were finally shown to our table. The short and surly 12 year old spoke to our navels to get our order, she was so full of metal that if shed never had her piercings in the first place she may have grown to her proper height, but anyway, she lamely thanked our stomachs then sauntered off.
We were excited at the prospect of having the best burger weve ever tasted, Mr B and I have sampled some pretty amazing grilled meat patties in our time so this was going to be something good! Well, it turned out to be something anyway.
<*dv_4*> When the starter finally arrived mine was pretty substandard, a couple of strips of toast and some quite nice dip. Mr B on the other hand was passed some anaemic looking chicken strips that smelt horribly of unclean ladies kebabs, and I dont mean the type you get from a dodgy van after a night out, I mean the type made famous by Jade Goody from Big Brother. Mr Bs starter absolutely reeked and it was beginning to make me retch. Mr B started to eat it and realised it tasted foul, he was put off even further when I told him what I though it smelt like and then he agreed (how he knew what I meant I simply dont know, hes such a virginal creature ;o) I on the other hand went to an all girls school and no, Im not a lezzer, I just had to share changing rooms with loads of girls after PE and so have had the unfortunate experience of knowing how unpleasant the odd unclean female can be) ANYWAY, it was so grim I called over the tweenager and told her about the revolting starter, she apologised (at least I think thats what she said) and got us another set of chicken strips. When they arrived they also smelt of 1980s Russian female wrestler's jock straps (presumption here) so we left them alone.
<*dv_5*> We were feeling a bit apprehensive about the main course but felt that it couldnt get worse than fanny chicken so while waiting for the main course I decided to go to the ladies room. On asking where they were I was shown to a row of doors pretty much in the main restaurant and not conveniently situated down a corridor, away from the dining area, like most WCs are. I wasnt sure if it was some sort of Alice in Wonderland experience and depending on which door I went through I would find some magical land and have brilliant adventures (I have an active imagination and was desperate to get the thought of Mr Bs starter out of my head). I tried a door and was pleased to find an ordinary loo. What I wasnt pleased to find was that the door was made of a wood with the same qualities as tissue paper and so the slightest pee noise could be heard by all the diners. Nice. I had to wait for ages before someone behind another of the doors flushed their loo before I could pee as fast as possible and disguise the sound. As I waked out I felt really embarrassed and decided to just hold it if I needed a wee again.
When I got back our meals were waiting. Joy! In my place was the best burger Id ever eat! And it would have been, had I thrived on gristle, tubes and bouncy fat mixed in with flavourless..lamb did they call it? Jesus, Ive had better barium meals. It was chewy as fuck.
Mr Bs burger was supposed to come with mushrooms, after all it was the first thing on the title of his order MUSHROOM and Stilton burger. It had mushrooms. Two. Button Mushrooms. Baby ones. So small they could have passed as garden peas with a tan. His burger was also an enchantment of various bits of a cow that you would probably only find in dog food or value meat pies. I felt so sick at the bounce of my mouthful of burger bubblegum I was actually pleased when I found a short black curly hair in my chips, at last I had a huge reason to just give the damn meal back. I called over a jolly gentleman who looked managerial and explained the situation. It wasnt a hair from down below but an afro hair, and being a lady of tanned skin, shall we say, I know the difference. If my hair had been more naturally styled it could have been difficult to prove it wasnt a strand of my hair nestling in the chips, but god bless straightening irons because my hair was poker straight.
The manger apologised and said hed take it off the bill (too damn right mate) and Mr B bravely tried to chew his way through his offal burger. He got half way then left it and we asked for the bill. Even after my hairy chips and grim gristle burger were removed from the bill it still came to far too much, and we certainly didnt leave a tip for the multi coloured haired, multi pierced child that was our reluctant waitress.
People were still queuing up and for some reason and bizarrely enough Tootsies still does brisk business even today. I guess either the people of Reading have a penchant for animal remains or chef forgot to put the class A drugs in our burgers to keep us happy and coming back.
The best burger weve ever eaten? No way Tootsies, it was definitely the very worst.
Piece submitted by Alicia
Tootsies can be found at 2 Riverside Level, The Oracle, Reading, Berkshire RG1 2AG, with other branches serving equally dire food across Britain. But not for long, hopefully.
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