Reality Bites
And I bite back?
If you’ve ever lived in a major tourist destination, you often take your city’s treasures for granted. That’s why you must (like Carrie Bradshaw in the Sex and the City episode where she tries to go to the Guggenheim) adopt a visitor’s mindset to uncover the delights that surround you. That is how, last week, I found myself at one of the worst restaurants in the world.
The restaurant in question? Schwartz & Sandy’s Lounge, a joint venture by two sociopaths who both happen to be named Tom.
The titular Toms (Sandoval AKA Sandy and Schwartz AKA Schwartz) are a model / actor and a model / actor that rose to fame on Vanderpump Rules, a reality show about people completely devoid of morals. They share a love of hair products, cocktails, and infidelity. They do not seem like people who would be capable of opening a single restaurant, yet Schwartz & Sandy’s lounge is the follow up to their first foray into hospitality / eponymy, TomTom. I have also been to TomTom and you may not be surprised to hear I got food poisoning there.
The two Toms were recently involved in a scandal (“Scandoval”) involving a woman named Raquel. They both kissed Raquel, but its speculated that the one Tom kissed her to cover for the other Tom who was more than kissing her, which was problematic because he was in an eight year relationship with Raquel’s friend.
Schwartz & Sandy’s lounge opened in the middle of said Scandoval, catching their silent partner in its crosshairs. His name is Greg. As a result, internet reviews (as we learned because our friend Emily read us internet reviews on our way to the restaurant) have leapt to the defense of Greg, saying that he shouldn’t be punished for the Toms’ misdeeds. That may be true, but Greg should be punished for the Tofu & Lobster Tikka Masala, which is one of the featured menu items.
I had been to the restaurant in its previous iteration because it is in a strip mall next to the improv theater where I sometimes perform. It used to be a Mexican cantina. It has been transformed into a Mexican cantina covered in decorations you might find on the more bohemian end of the Home Goods spectrum. It looked like someone had also dropped a pretty penny at the fake flower aisle at Michaels. There was one large arrangement suspended over a single table, which reminded me of the work of a Project Runway contestant who ran out of time. Art was hung low, drawing attention to the extremely high ceiling, which continued to feel bare and empty as the night wore on because the cocktails at this cocktail bar were extremely weak.
The menu offered eight cocktails, but four of them were blacked out with tape. I thought I had learned my TomTom lesson and decided to order something safe (fries). You could get them “herbed” or “Cajun.” We went with Cajun, which as you can imagine, meant someone dumped half a bottle of something like “Real Creole!” on them. Some people said they got a hot fry, but the ones I tasted were cold and lifeless.
Our adventurous pick were savory beignets which, in both texture and taste, were salty and gelatinous.
When you are pregnant, you have to take a glucose test to make sure you don’t have gestational diabetes and you must chug a drink that is pure sugar and one of the most disgusting things I’ve ever tasted. The first one I chugged in the throes of horrific morning sickness, and I don’t think I’ve ever tasted something worse. That is until I had a “Strawberry Schwartz Cake.”
It was a lukewarm brick of a cake, adorned with I would guess is half a jar of generic strawberry jam and something between whipped cream and cool whip. I took one bite, remembered I’m currently paying for dental care out of pocket, and decided to leave it at that.
At the end of the day, Tom and Tom (or Schwartz and Sandy) gave us a disappointing night full of disgusting food in an ugly location…in other words, exactly what we came for.
Hilarious, Langan! And you are a trooper for trying TomTomTomTom again.
My teeth (and stomach) hurt reading this😖