Banana Cafe

Our friend Budak is one of our favorite dining companions. He introduced us to Teaism and Julia's Empanadas, and for that we will be forever grateful. However, Budak has hit a bit of a rough patch with his restaurant suggestions: Malaysia Kopitiam, Liberty Tree, and Wok N Roll to name a few. It has become a running joke, yet we love him and still let him guide our dining choices since we figure we'll at least get an adventure out of it. On our last outing, we picked him up in the pouring rain and he proclaimed we were headed to Banana Cafe & Piano Bar. Leave it to Budak to find a piano bar/Cuban/Mexican/Puerto Rican restaurant.

We sat in the downstairs area (the piano bar is upstairs) and took in the bright, almost garish, decor. Our waitress delivered a basket of decidedly average chips with watery salsa, and asked if we wanted to order drinks. Feeling festive, we decided to share a pitcher and the waitress said that they serve great mojitos. Unfortunately, we took her word for it. What followed was what B described as the "single worst drink I have ever had in my life."

The giant pitcher was filled with perhaps 65% sugar water, 30% unpleasant-tasting rum, and 5% of completely unmuddled mint and unsqueezed limes. It was so off-balance and so indescribably bad, that B pushed away his glass and asked the waitress to come over. He explained that something tasted really off with the drink and she stared at us blankly and asked what WE wanted her to do to fix it! Baffled, we suggested perhaps she add more lime juice or try muddling the mint. She took the pitcher away, brought it back with some more limes thrown in and left us to taste it. It still tasted as terrible as it did the first time and we left the pitcher almost completely untouched as we ate our food.

The mojito from hell has dominated my memory of Banana Cafe so much that I barely remember the food. However, I believe I had the Puerto Rican Piononos - an interesting combination of sweet plantains stuffed with ground beef and pork and topped with cheese. I liked it fine and the portion was big enough to save half for lunch the next day. However, as I sat at my desk eating reheated piononos, I could not shake the taste of the mojito and the wacky way in which the waitress handled it.

B, still rattled by the brush with mojito darkness, ate seafood paella that he described as fine but nothing memorable.

At the end of the meal, the waitress came to clear the plates and saw the giant, untouched pitcher o' mojito and said nothing. Never an offer to bring us something else or reduce the price or have us talk to the manager or the bartender. We were stuck with a $38 pitcher of undrinkable liquid and a story to tell our friends. The whole thing was so awkward and uncomfortable that we just paid the bill and hustled out of there.

I suppose if I were trapped on Barracks Row and every single other restaurant was closed and I was about to die of starvation, I would consider going back to Banana Cafe. A bit dramatic? Perhaps, but you didn't try that mojito! On to the next Budak adventure...

Second Thoughts From B

An open letter to J: If we are dying of starvation on Barracks Row and our only choice is Banana Cafe, you're welcome to eat me, because I will happily pass on the meal.

The mojito was that bad. Completely undrinkable. So far off that I still have no idea what went wrong, much less how to fix it. Less motor oil perhaps?

As far as my paella - which incidentally, also came highly recommended - it was also memorably poor. It wasn't inedible and in fact, it didn't even taste bad. Rather, it was remarkably average. It tasted like 3 day old reheated leftovers. Or maybe lukewarm dehydrated camping food. To be fair, I love leftovers and am tempted to stock my pantry with Mountain House products, but this is not what I'd hope for at a reasonably nice restaurant.

Fortunately for all of us, Barracks Row is hardly a wasteland of dining options. Spare yourself the pain and $38 and go elsewhere.