Virginia Inn - I think Paul said it best, on a sweltering Southern summer day, as we crossed the Mississippi state line, "When you're trying to see all 50 states, sometimes you have to go to a crappy one." And so it is with the Market, when you're trying to hit every purveyor of ready to eat food, sometimes you will be disappointed. The Virginia Inn is nothing special. But it could be. In many ways it is like Mississippi. So much potential. So much natural beauty. Such poor execution. The Virginia Inn is a lovely old bar, not unlike something you'd find in a long forgotten corner of the South, all tile floors and wood paneling, right down to the old school freezer with heavy wooden doors. The cane chairs and marble tables are trying for Paris, but leaning toward New Orleans. As is the menu, with gumbo and a muffaletta clearly displayed. I got the gumbo and it was serviceable, if not exactly authentic. Paul got the chicken ceasar, which came with a mass of white meat cut by someone who had clearly never been to culinary school. Strange misshapen chicken bits and a hair thrown in for good measure. Citysearch warns you about the service, but we usually take citysearch with a grain of salt. Be forwarned, the service sucks. Our waitress quite literally disappeared after taking our orders. We never saw her again. Luckily, the food came anyway, courtesy of a very polite busboy/foodrunner/only-person-who-gave-a-shit working that night. We got our own second beers, which were the highlight. They have a number of delicious local favorites on tap, and sipping one while admiring the atmosphere almost makes up for this establishment's shortcomings.
