by Ernesto Portalatin on I love their fish and chips! And environment - ah I'm in Ireland! Get a good pint with a friends and stay for some great grub.
by Kraig Karst on One of the best burgers and some of the worst service I have ever had. Really rude, and it wasn't a one-time thing. On one visit I asked for a side of sour cream with my meal, and the waitress forgot it, and I reminded her. About ten minutes later, when my meal was largely consumed already, a busboy brought over the sour cream and literally threw the dish onto the table and skulked off. The bartenders are also very unfriendly, cold, and aloof. Other people have told me they have had similar experiences there. Now when I crave one of their burgers I just remember the service and go elsewhere. UPDATE (March 2010): Well, I have been back a number of times in spite of my earlier shred, as it's so close to Record Surplus and I go record shopping almost weekly, after which I'm typically starved and sick of driving/parking. The service has improved. Waitresses are prompt, some are neutral and some are friendly, but none of them have been as rude as when I first visited this place. Haven't sat at the bar so can't speak for the bartenders. The burger is still good but it's not as exceptional as I first thought - the meat isn't as juicy/tasty. It's good but not great. Also, I had a salad there about two weeks ago and I'm pretty sure I got food poisoning from it - felt horrendous all the next day. Likewise the wine seems to be of the cheap/headache-inducing variety. Sounds horrible, right? But I went back anyway, stuck with the burger, got the fries for the side dish instead, and drank only the beer, and it was fine. And the waitress was nice. Plus I've never had to wait for a table, just walk in and sit down.
by Natasha P. on My first instinct was to catch a cab and hop on a plane back to New York. But wait, you can't simply hail a taxi even in Midtown Atlanta. The only redeeming quality of Shout is its diverse crowd of 20 somethings. I can see the appeal of an outdoor balcony adorned with velvet sofas and large booths equipped with miniature television screens tuned appropriately to ESPN. This place is a Nation subscribers visit to hell. I would've been shocked to learn if anyone there could name the Iranian president, or even recognize the difference between Iraq and Afghanistan. Call me pretentious, but when a guy donning a wife beater attempts a lap dance by thrusting himself onto a woman's face, and her sole response is to laugh it off, it's enough to drive anyone with an IQ level above 50 screaming on to Peachtree street yearning for a newspaper bin that sells the AJC.
