In between a bunch of other tasty outings this weekend (The Wren, Mean Bao, beers on Dark Horse’s patio, Boxcar Social, BQM, and our first time at I’ll Be Seeing You), we had a weird outing to Gusto 101. My realtor, who is awesome, treated us to celebrate the sale of my old place, so believe me, I’m not complaining. I’m just…a little baffled. I’d heard good things about Gusto, but man…that place was weird.

There were so many douches. So many neck tattoos. So many 905ers just carbo-loading before heading out to find bottle service. The vibe was just…weird. And yeah, I’m old. I get it. But it just felt like amateur hour at the Chef Mario’s School for Italian Restaurant Owners.

To be fair, our food wasn’t bad. The bufala mozzarella was great. The shishito peppers, while not terribly Italian, were good. Our pastas were decent. And our Barolo was fantastic right up until our server, sporting a man bun — a man bun — and never taking off his mirrored sunglasses, poured the bulk of the wine into a decanter with a bunch of water in the bottom. He also didn’t know what a decanter was called until I told him. Or how to pour wine from it. Sigh.

Look, it was a free meal, so I’m more than appreciative. It was just…very unusual for an Italian place, where smooth, knowledgeable service is the norm.

Luckily, we salvaged the evening at Chez Nous wine bar, where we bought a bottle of Grange Cabernet Franc and relaxed, free of poseurs.