The worst crime a restaurant can commit is being utterly mediocre.
Teacup, Tipsy, Danielle and I went to Troll Pub Under the Bridge on a Friday night right before the epic UK UofL faceoff…and it was DEAD. Utterly, completely dead. We looked totally out of place in our pretty Friday night dresses but we did not lose hope—after all, we love fried things, fountain diet cokes, alcohol—how hard could it be to please us?
To start off with, though we were some of the only patrons in the place, we were seated in a back dining room surrounded with giant, loud televisions, and right next to the oozing soda fountain. Our waitress clearly did not want to be there, and did not offer us any beer list, wine list, drink list, whatever—it’s a PUB. It’s 9:30 on a Friday night. OFFER US ALCOHOL, WENCH! She did get us diet cokes, and give us the menu.
Basic pub fare, but we went ahead and ordered. As they passed us to get cokes for their tables, some of the servers injected themselves into our conversation (for example: “You guys are catty!”). UM. HOW DARE YOU INJECT YOURSELF INTO OUR CLEARLY PRIVATE GIRL TALK DUDE???
We got the beer cheese appetizer with pretzel bread, and it was really warm and totally delicious. When out food came, it smelled good for sure, and my buttermilk fried chicken tenders were good, well spiced. However, Danielle’s pasta, billed as “angry alfredo” was pretty bland, obviously premade.
Teacup’s fish and chips were soggy with grease and they didn’t even have regular tartar. Tipsy’s bacon cheeseburger had to be built from the menu, was not cooked to order (is charcoal gray a step above well done?) and the bacon was burned.
In Summary: beer cheese, good and warm, chicken fingers super yummy, troll statue, awfully cute. BUT EVERYTHING ELSE: UTTERLY MEDIOCRE BORDERING ON DUMB. The lackluster service. The burned bacon, the greasy fish, the blah pasta congealing in the bowl, the snarky servers lacking any kind of charm, and the unreasonable cost. Sorry Mr. Troll, we won’t be visiting your pub again.