When I go to a place with “pork” in its title, ask the waiter whether I should order the burger–because I read it’s especially good–or the pulled pork sandwich, and he says the pulled pork is just normal, something is wrong.
I’m all for the cutesy name–I live for wordplay. But if you have pig paraphernalia all over your walls, you’d better serve some good pork.
Maybe I should’ve ignored the waiter’s suggestion and tried the pulled pork anyway, but I was in the mood for a burger. To be honest, it was nothing special either, but the restaurant had a decent happy hour, a heat lamp over the doorway, and a pig in a top hat on the wall next to us, so I’m not really complaining.
I know it can be hard to tell sometimes.