Now, I understand if you’re a mom-and-pop coffee cafe, or a sandwich shop, you might not want to take reservations. Sure. But if you’re a swank, just-won-restaurant-of-the-year, crowded, popular, trendy dinner spot–seriously.

Nostrana, in Portland, recently won just that honor, though it actually slips my mind from which publication.

Being a hopeless foodie, I really wanted to sample just what made it so special. What better time to do this than on the Saturday evening before my birthday (which was on Sunday)? Especially when my sister is visiting (from Boston) and my father and stepmother (from Seattle).

Mr. Pencil (darling husband) called Nostrana with organization in mind and asked them if they could give us reservations for 5 fof us, as it was my birthday dinner and we wanted to be sure of a spot. Their dismissive response was odd: “We don’t take reservations.”

“But,” they assured us, “just show up this evening and there shouldn’t be much wait.”

Not wanting to chance a delay, and having plans to attend a party of friends later in the evening, the fam and I arrived at Nostrana just before 6p.m. on Saturday.

“Crap,” I grumbled as we grappled for parking in their very full lot. “Crap,” I reiterated, as we approached the entrance and there were people spilling out of it.

By the time I got inside, I was downright ticked off. The hostess approached us and when we asked if we could possibly have dinner there, she said:

“The wait is going to be about an hour-and-a-half.”

Hello?! What?! Are you serious?! Now gravely pissed off, I stormed out, irritated enough that I quite realistically think I’ll never give them my business.

We tried alternates then, calling Ciao Vito on Alberta (nothing until 8:30pm) and The Alberta Street Oyster House (nothing until 8:30pm again), and finally settled on Siam Society on Alberta because at that point I couldn’t think of much else (I’m notoriously terrible at actually figuring out where to eat).

And the food was not good. My entree, especially (simple Phad Thai, come on, guys), was reprehensible. I sat pouting. So much effort to find good food, so much disappointment. It was great to have the family together, but I had had my heart set on a great meal.

PHASE II

The next morning (Sunday/yesterday/my birthday), an even larger group, including my 92-year-old grandmother, wanted to go to a celebratory brunch.

Mr. Pencil thoughtfully called around to various brunch places. I especially wanted to go to Le Pigeon, which is the Height of Awesome Trendy Eat-Hereness right now. No one would deign to take reservations.

So, yesterday, at around 10a.m., Mr. Pencil called Le Pigeon again and said: “We have 7 people, including a very elderly lady who isn’t going to be able to stand and wait. How is it looking if we arrive in 45 minutes?”

Dismissive/useless lady on phone (paraphrase): “Well, I absolutely can’t hold anything, so there’s not much I can do. I can’t say what’s going to happen in 45 minutes. You should just call, like, five minutes before you get here.”

Assembled at my mother’s and ready to go, seven of us. Mr. Pencil calls Le Pigeon back and says: “OK, we’re about ready to come down now.”

Le Pigeon:

“Sorry, a group of five just sat at the only table large enough to accommodate you. It’s going to be at least half an hour and probably 45 minutes before you can be seated.”

Sigh.

In the end, Mr. Pencil drove down alone and waited, staring at the group at “our” table until it looked like they were going to leave. Then he called us and we rushed as much as is possible with large family group to get there and claim our seats.

In the end, my feeling is that this is Portland restaurants in effect saying:

“We’re really popular. We don’t need to make accommodations for customers because it’s easier not to and we’ll still be really popular. So if people don’t want to wait, screw them.”

Actually, no, lame-not-taking-reservations-places, screw YOU. Grrr.