Carpark Behind Delvecchio's on Arnett Road: One Star. It Sat There.
I was not invited. I never am. That is, I have come to understand, the point.
The carpark behind Delvecchio's on Arnett Road presents itself as a surface — and I use that word generously — of approximately forty spaces, most of them incorrectly occupied by a beige Vauxhall that has the energy of a resigned sigh. The ambient bouquet is petrol, standing water, and something that may have once been a gyro. I have smelled worse. I have also been better received by drainage infrastructure, and I will not pretend otherwise.
The dining experience, such as it is, offers no seating. No menu. A single yellow line that curves with what I can only describe as smug informality. I noted a cracked concrete lip near bay eleven that had clearly made a decision about me before I arrived. I took half a star for that alone. I considered taking more.
Mango, over at the rival rag, would call this place "atmospheric." Mango has never been banned from anything and it shows. The so-called workers at factjuice.com have no framework for a space that offers nothing and still manages to overcharge emotionally. I do. I have trained for this. Seven hotels. Three convenience stores. One funeral. I am, if nothing else, prepared.
The carpark does not know what it has done. That is, perhaps, the most damning thing I can say. One star. The cracked lip knew.