The Stony Knob Cafe

The small town of Weaverville, North Carolina is home to a small group of shops and restaurants that cater to the residents of this mountainous suburb of Asheville. As we drive down the main road, my friend turned tour guide is busy describing all the neat places to be in her hometown; one of them happens to be the small, yet well-known restaurant they call The Stony Knob Cafe. I look back through the window to see a brightly decorated building with a large eat-in porch disappear in the distance. When my tour guide Morgan mentions brunch with her friends, The Stony Knob Cafe becomes the chosen eatery. Despite having never eaten there, Morgan has heard rave reviews about the food and is friends with a handful of staff members. I am anxious for brunch as we pull into the parking lot; not only am I hungry, but there is something soothing about Sunday brunch after church at a nice restaurant. We climb out of the car to be warmly greeted by Morgan’s long-time friend Kara; the restaurant was a suggestion of Kara’s as her sister is a hostess there. As we walk into the narrow entry way, I am impressed that we are quickly seated on the open porch; this is undoubtedly a busy time of day as each table appears to be filled by happy diners.

I am told that The Stony Knob Cafe is the place for the wealthier members of town to dine. The menu is adorned with a variety of options from Salmon Benedictine with a Hollandaise sauce to Greek Gyros with Tzatziki sauce. The waitress remains patient as my friends and I are too preoccupied with our conversation to make meal choices. My choice falls on three scrambled eggs and a side salad, while my friends both order Chicken Gyros, one with a side of French fries and the other with a side of homefries. As we sit and wait for our meals, we are suddenly joined by a swarming bee. At first, the bee is not bothersome, but after buzzing through our conversation repeatedly, I become uneasy. After attempting to maintain calm, Morgan and I are out of our seats and teaming with nearby diners to avoid the swarming bee. As I step back to observe the scene, I realize that there is not a waitress in sight aiding in the effort. There are a couple of patrons who have expressed allergies to the creature, including myself, and still no desire to prevent medical emergency is being expressed. It is only after the bee is killed that a waitress attempts to aid the situation by removing the dead bee from the dining room.

After much ruckus, my friends and I are hastily offered an inside table as if accommodating my bee allergy is an undesirable chore. We are place directly beside the main door in the busy entryway. From my seat, I am able to feel not only the draft from the doorway as each patron enters, but I am also able to see the grill. I listen to the clanging of the spatulas against the hot griddle and to the conversation between the cooks as they arrange each platter to be taken away by a waitress. I am amazed at the promptness of the cooking staff as each member quickly prepares a piece of the meal in order to efficiently supply the final product. Shortly after taking our seats, I notice that a plate full of eggs has been placed beneath the heat lamp beside two chicken gyros; I can only presume this is our meal. When I turn around, my salad is sitting on the bar ready for delivery. After a few minutes, the cook calls for food delivery as the food is on the verge of sitting too long beneath the artificial heat. Two waitresses and a hostess tend to the cook’s call; it is not until our food has been carried away to the porch that it is returned to the food bar for our waitress to bring to us. Our waitress quickly transports the plates from the food bar onto our table and, with nothing more than a smile, she leaves as quickly as she came. It is apparent that our encounter with the bee has tarnished the waitress’s desire to create an enjoyable atmosphere as we dine.

I survey my friends’ food choices; Morgan and Kara’s gyros look delicious. They are both served large amounts of moist chicken and a slice of ripe tomato wrapped in lettuce and a warm pita, held together by an aluminum foil wrap; both enjoy Greek vinaigrette and Tzatziki sauce as dipping sauces. My eggs are cooked just as I prefer; scrambled to a light consistency and cooked until all traces of egg white and yolk turn firm. My side salad is arranged with a variety of greens and garnished with slices of carrots and cucumbers. The homemade Greek vinaigrette is the perfect blend of olive oil, vinegar, and herbs. The greens are crisp and fresh; this is the most impressive part of my meal. Kara notices a key item missing from the gyro plates: the fries. She is forced to get her sister’s attention, who is a hostess at the restaurant, to settle the matter. After both Morgan and Kara have enjoyed the majority of their gyros, their fries are brought to the table. Morgan pushes her plate of homefries away soon after the plate is set before her; when I ask what is wrong, she replies, “These are not all that good.” From what she describes, they are overly spiced, cold and overcooked. Kara quickly tears into her French fries despite having already eaten her meal. She says, “These are the best part of my meal. Too bad I’m already full.”

We enjoy the remainder of our drinks and meals before we are ready to be on our way. The bill has already been set on our table by our new waitress; she has yet to insure the quality of our meal. I had become aware of the pricey menu while choosing my meal, but it is not until we begin separating the final bill we realize the overpriced food set before us. Throughout the meal, I have not been overly impressed with the service. Be prepared to spend around ten dollars per dish at any breakfast, lunch, or brunch.

As I leave the restaurant, I am disappointed with our meal and in no way compelled to return; at this point, I am glad both my friends and I have such a good sense of humor regarding the situation. Whether it be because of the service or because of the over-priced meal, I am not impressed by my experience in The Stony Knob Café; a much more suitable name would undoubtedly be The Snobby Knob Cafe. Despite being once excited about the idea of brunch at the “Snobby Knob”, I have realized that this meal has been amusing only because of our light-hearted demeanors. I am told by a friend who was previously employed by a restaurant to consider the busy time of day, however, this is a service provided by the wait staff; today, the service was below satisfactory. The highlight of my meal turns out to be the opportunity to mock my friend’s method of deterring the bee with her napkin only to enrage the insect and compel it to return for fight. Looking back, I will credit the restaurant with the use of fresh ingredients. When the fries finally did hit the table, they were undoubtedly the highlight of any meal; it is making it to the table that became the tricky part.

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