Don’t you hate it when you go to a fancy shmancy restaurantay and the menu is in a different fucking language? Never fear, Sherman Ave is here to translate that gibberish for you. We actually found that most restaurants don’t even know what they’re saying, either.
Oh, so THIS is what I ordered…
Jorawini-a classic dish consisting of a large, savory sausage stuffed with broiled spinach and mozzarella cheese grilled to perfection, seasoned with crushed red pepper and garlic.
“You’re a weenie”- Continue reading
A little over a year ago, when The Keg was first taken from us by The Unspeakables, the Sherman Ave editors made an unprecedented trip to TKOE for dinner. The dinner was, surprisingly, generally devoid of puking sorostitutes or passed out freshmen. In fact, it was fairly delish-daddy.
With that in mind we present a totally serious review of #KegDin.
No srsly, they serve food 2.
Service: There were literally zero other customers, probably because it was a Wednesday around 6 p.m. and not any time on a Monday or a Saturday night. Upon walking in, we looked for a waitress or waiter or server or busboy or human or dog or reptile or pile of vomit. No one. After about 30 seconds a waitress walked over and told us we “could sit wherever want.” Like all the classy joints. After that we were waited on hand-and-foot by a slightly depressing but generally acceptable 30-something woman. She brought water in the pitchers. Yeah. They use those urine-baskets for WATER. Continue reading