Skip to content

Elysha and I went to Mo’s Midtown this morning for breakfast.
The food was good, and Elysha actually likes their pancakes a lot, but these are several subtle oddities about the restaurant that had us wondering if we would return any time soon.

Let’s start with the name of the place: Mo’s Midtown.

This restaurant isn’t even close to being midtown. In fact, it’s actually one street over from the border between Hartford and West Hartford. It couldn’t be farther than midtown.

So why this name?

Things like this really bother me.

The word restaurant was also misspelled on the menu. Instead, it reads restorant.

This bothers me as well.

And that’s a lot of issues centering just on the name of the place.

But there’s more.

Elysha and I went to breakfast without cash and were pleasantly surprised to discover that they accept debit cards “for our convenience.” While I think all restaurants (and restorants) should accept credit cards, it’s not uncommon for a small diner like Mo’s to deal only in cash.

However, after handing the waitress my bill ($15.24) and my debit card and entering my PIN number, she handed me back a receipt and $3.76 in change.

“Oh no,” I said. “This isn’t mine. I gave you a debit card.”

“Yes, I know,” she said. “I withdrew $20 from your account for the bill and here is the change.”

“I don’t get it,” I said.

“It’s like taking money out of an ATM machine. I withdrew $20 to pay your bill. I can only withdraw money in increments of $20.”

“So we’re essentially standing in a giant ATM machine?” I asked.

“Sure,” she said, finding my sarcastic comment amusing.

“Is there a charge for using this giant ATM machine?” I asked.

“Yes. One dollar,” she said.

I eat out quite often, but I have never found myself paying in such a manner. And frankly, I thought it was a lousy way for the Mo’s to avoid credit and debit charges.

For my convenience? I don’t think so.

These issues alone would have been enough to keep me away.

But there’s more.

Add to the list the need to explain to the waitress of a diner known for its pancakes what silver dollar pancakes are and then still not getting them for our daughter when the food arrived. “Sorry,” the waitress explained. “He didn’t understand, so he just made one big pancake.”

And then there was the lack of fountain soda, serving Diet Pepsi in cans instead, as well as the waitress’s inconceivable decision to bring me and Elysha our breakfast a full five minutes before bringing my twenty-month old daughter hers.

Actually, this happens more often than you might imagine. Is it that hard to understand the mind of a toddler?

As a result of this odd series of eccentricities, we may never return to Mo’s Midtown, as much as I enjoyed the French toast and Elysha loved her pancakes.

Sometimes, if you can’t choose a geographically accurate name for your restaurant/ATM machine, that’s enough to keep me away.

Am I being picky?