Reviews
Do you remember as a kid, wandering into a area where an adult placed their hands on their hips and asked "Can I help you?" in that tone that said you just crossed some forbidden line and weren't welcomed? That's exactly what my boyfriend and I received upon entering the nearly deserted Cafe 171 for the first time ever. It truly was to the extreme that I apologized and asked if they were in fact open to the public. We were told to pick a seat, where we debated just exiting the quiet unease of the establishment. We decided to just see what came next ... While the decor was rustic and tasteful, our nearing-middle-aged waitress seemed more interested in her pink zebra striped cell phone. By the time we placed our order, a few other patrons wandered in, choosing the adjacent booth to ours. They ordered food not advertised on the menu or any billboard and kindly made it known the booth divider was old and giving out with each movement the patron made behind me had my torso being pushed roughly into the table in front of me. Our food was greasy and while I enjoy crawfish, I'm a firm believer a rib-eye sandwich shouldn't have an overwhelming aftertaste of the shellfish. The bun was saturated in butter(?) ... the fries were good. My companion's cheeseburger was dry while his own sandwich bun oozed more grease than anything else. Two sandwiches, two teas = over $25.00 Cafe 171 is a over-priced, hole-in-the-wall whose main source of patronage comes from being in a isolated area with little competition. The idea of 'Southern-laid-back-hospitality" has been substituted with dismissive attitudes and a seriously lack of professionalism.
