So then, Yuk & Yeti it is.
The people behind the first -- and only -- full-service restaurant inside Disney's Animal Kingdom theme park set themselves up for derision when they named the place Yak & Yeti and then made what must have been a conscious decision to serve second-rate food.
The slogan could be "Yakkity Yak -- don't eat that!"
I'm not sure who should take the biggest blame. Certainly Landry's Restaurants, the company that operates Y & Y, as well as Rainforest Cafe just outside the park's gate, should take a big part of the responsibility. It's their food, after all, and they should be embarrassed to serve it.
But the Disney folks should take some of the fault, as well. Most of the people who choose to dine at the restaurant -- innocent victims, they -- probably do so thinking it is a Disney-operated establishment, and so expect it to match the quality of other restaurants in other parks, even the mediocre ones. Why don't the Disney Culineers demand oversight to protect quality assurance, or at least insist that the food be average?
OK, there was one food item I liked. It was a plate of green beans that had been coated in batter (the beans, not the plate) and fried and served with a sweet dipping sauce. A nice way to eat vegetables. But $6.99 for a stack of green beans? Are they kidding?
No, they're serious, otherwise they wouldn't have charged $12.99 for the eensy dim sum basket that had a few rubbery pork pot stickers, pork and shrimp dumplings and two stale, doughy steamed buns with what looked to be about a teaspoon of barbecue inside.
My guest chose the Shaoxing steak and shrimp entr�e, which featured shrimp on skewers coated with something the menu described as tempura batter. Actually, it more closely resembled the substance that insulates a common corn dog at your basic county fair. The meat half of the duo was good, skirt steak saturated with soy marinade. The thin steak was wrapped around a timbale of jasmine rice. The plate also included a rather soggy medley of vegetables -- snow peas, bell peppers, some mushrooms -- but the whole thing didn't come close to being worth the $22.99 fee.
For my entr�e I chose the crispy mahi mahi, and crispy is their description for it. Mine would be hard and crusty. It was a fair-sized fillet covered with bread crumbs, then overcooked so that it was dark brown and dry. The cost was $19.99, rice and veggies included.
For dessert, my guest and I shared the fried wontons, and there was enough left over for two other people. That's because we each took one bite and pushed the rest away. It consisted of wontons filled with cream cheese then deep-fried. Whether it was intentional to serve them cool I cannot say, but cool they were.
Adult drinks include a variety of martinis. There was a list of sakes, but none was available on the day I visited. I settled for a glass of plum wine, which was beyond cloying.
The restaurant can best be described as rustic if not downright dilapidated. It's a large place, two stories, with 250 seats inside, yet the rooms are mostly smaller so it doesn't have a cavernous feel. While my guest and I were eating, a manager walked through the room talking loudly on a walkie-talkie, relaying the availability of tables to the front desk, oblivious to the guests seated in the room.
Walls have that quaint look of cracked plaster, but the tabletops are covered with attractive tile work. I won't question the wisdom of having one restroom, on the first floor, for such a large restaurant. I obviously don't understand such things.
Yak & Yeti is right there as you enter the Asia section of the park. Its location accounts for the pan-Asian menu, which could not be described as extensive. That's by design: Since Yak & Yeti is the only full-service restaurant inside the park, making it attractive to tired and hungry guests, management didn't want the masses spending too much time mulling over the menu. They'd prefer people come in, choose something, eat, then go on their way. I suggest skipping the first three steps.
The thing that gets me agitated about this place isn't the ridiculous prices or the get-'em-in, get-'em-out mentality. It's the apparent arrogance that because they're the only full-service restaurant inside the park they don't need to do a better job. That's insulting.
Shame on Landry's Restaurants, and shame on Disney for allowing it.
Am I blue
Blue Bistro, the oddly charming Mills Avenue restaurant that was the showcase for the talents of chef/owner Jephanie Foster, closed last weekend after a nearly five-year run. Foster, who had previously severed her ties with Thornton Park's Midnight Blue, told the Hound she just "thought it was time." She added that she's working on some other projects. More on what that means later.
Scott Joseph can be reached at 407-420-5514.
sjoseph@orlandosentinel.com
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