Mona Lisa Bakery...or not

Alex lives down the block from a local neighborhood-y place called Mona Lisa Bakery.  They are known primarily for their Italian pastries (my family used to buy cheesecake from their old storefront on Bath Avenue and it was a joy for little ol' me to stand and gawk at the beautiful cookies and cannoli in the glass case), but they also serve sit-down meals of pizza and pasta.  I've eaten here a handful of times because it's so nearby, the prices are decent, and sometimes you just crave Italian food like someone's nonna makes it.  This weekend, however, having dinner at Mona Lisa Bakery was among one of the worst ideas ever to strike a human's brain.

When we entered the restaurant, it was Live Music Saturday.  Not like a saxophonist playing jazzy tunes in the corner.  Rather, like a busty 50-something blond lady in a red sequin dress (which had an inappropriately-high slit) singing karaoke in front of spinning strobe lights.  We were a party of five and we realized our combined age neared that of the average diner that night.  Okay, just joking, but I definitely felt young when the host paraded us through the dining room all the way to the back, an unlit corner right in front of the pizza-making brick oven.  I wondered why in the world they had the music on so loud when I'm sure most people eating there were hard of hearing to begin with.  I was shouting to the people sitting right next to me and my hearing is pretty good.

Our waiter was, on the other hand, younger than us and definitely the least professional person I've ever seen in a restaurant.  It looked like the manager pulled some kid off the street who didn't even have time to change out of his gangsta-wannabe gold chains and slouchy pants.  And, dear foolish waiter, next time when customers you a simple question like "Is the pizza good?" please don't shrug and give them an uncommitted "ionno".  

It took us more than 10 minutes to get glasses and a pitcher of water.  The worst kicker was when, 20 minutes after we ordered, a different waitress came by and said that they were out of spaghetti and meatballs, the dish which two of our party had ordered.  No spaghetti and meatballs?  That is obviously egregious for an Italian eatery, but to tell us 20 minutes after we ordered?

Then, the five of us decided to make a swift exit, laughing about how incredulous that was, and made our way to find something palatable for dinner.

Again, this wasn't my first time at Mona Lisa.  And, the other times I've eaten there, the service and the food were pretty good.  But this experience was a dealbreaker.  Mona Lisa Bakery, I hereby declare you NOT VERITASTY.  </3

Stay tuned for our solution...