A New Restaurant

In an effort to try new restaurants around Long Beach, we met with our friend Clark at the recently-opened Tilted Kilton Pacific Coast Highway. Up until last summer, the spot used to house a Lonestar Steak House, which we were shocked to see leave. One day, the restaurant was there, then I noticed the sign down and a construction crew clearing out the building not even two days later. After a few months, a green sign for the Tilted Kilt appeared on the building though we never saw any construction. The restaurant opened with very little fanfare. All of a sudden the parking lot was jammed with cars, and we decided that one day, we would check the place out.

We walked into the restaurant last night, and the first thing we noticed was the scantily clad hostess: a red plaid mini-kilt barely covering the upper thigh, white knee-high socks, a tight-fitting, white button-down midriff with red plaid push up bra beneath. Looking around the restaurant, every single waitress dressed exactly the same. And all on the thin side with long hair. Very much what I would imagine a "schoolgirl fantasy" would be like. Yet not one male waiter. The male workers we did see were apparently relegated to bus boy duties and all wore black knee-length kilts.

The walls were mostly painted greened and crammed with all manner of pub memorabilia, leaving no space unfilled. Mirrors, drink posters, reproductions of paintings and woodprints. A sword and scabbard mounted in a display case high above the patrons. No booths, either; everyone sat at closely-crowded tables. Large screen TVs blasted every kind of sporting event imaginable; in our smaller dining room, one TV broadcast a NASCAR race while another showed a basketball game.

As for the crowd: decidedly male college student, with über testosterone levels and beer wafting through the air. (The owners picked the perfect location, being only a mile or two from Cal State Long Beach.) A few women also sat at the tables, but the entire restaurant seemed targeted for males, kind of a Scottish Hooters. But what can you expect on a Saturday night?

The food was decent enough, with lots of pub fare (Irish Stew, Shepherd's Pie, fish and chips) and more mainstream American (wraps, cheesesteak, club sandwich). The prices fell into the moderate range, but they charged for everything -- even an extra plastic cup of ranch dressing was 59¢; the sweet potato fries were $1.50 extra (though it wasn't mentioned in the menu that it was an additional charge); Clark was going to sub his fries with a cup of chili, but the extra charge would have been $4.

Would I eat there again? Maybe for lunch. But I'm in no rush to get back anytime soon.