The Yachtsman Steakhouse is the signature dining restaurant inside Disney's Yacht Club Resort, which is part of the Epcot resort area along with the Yacht Club's sister resort, the Beach Club, and the Boardwalk across Crescent Lake. The Epcot resort area, with it's bustling boardwalk and Stormalong Bay is very inviting. The outside of the Yacht Club is certainly more welcoming than the interior for me. It's full of beautiful waterfalls and pools; a more sunny disposition.
The Yacht Club is probably my least favorite of the Epcot resorts, only because the theming reminds me of some East Coast Good Old Boys Club. I think maybe they delivered on the theme a little too well, because while rich in woodwork and dulled brass, it can be a bit oppressive. It's bordering on stuffy, for my taste. I really enjoy nautical paraphernalia too, but it's just not very cheerful. It's more country club, than oceanic. I'm sure that works for people with that particular taste, but it's just not my first choice. I would like to say the the guests and cast members didn't fit the decor, but I can't. Not that anyone was snobby, per se, just a little on the uptight side. Not a lot of smiles or joking around, just sort of reflective of the depressing surroundings. It's sort of like an uncomfortable visit to a fussy old aunt's house, where she doesn't really like you to sit on her divan, or touch her ruffly pillows or use her "guest soaps" because they are for some other guest, that doesn't seem to exist. So you basically just stand around in the corner, shuffling your feet like a moron, but then you get yelled at for that because you didn't take your shoes off before shuffling your feet like a moron.
Though it probably didn't help that we were visiting at night, and it didn't have the sun streaming through the windows in the lobby. My favorite part of the interior was actually that really cool, giant antique globe pictured below.
This was my first visit to the resort and to the Yachtsman Steakhouse, so I was looking forward to it. I actually enjoyed the decor of the restaurant a bit more than the other interiors of the resort. We were seated in the atrium/rotunda portion, which was quite lovely. It was more nautical in nature with its porthole windows, but still quite subdued with its plaids and hunter greens.
We were seated next to a pretty obnoxious table of two couples on a double date of some kind, like a precursor to a swinger's orgy. I just got an uneasy feeling immediately, more on the level of annoyance than problematic, but in retrospect it did seem to foreshadow the fiasco that was this experience. They were laughing loudly at terrible jokes, talking arrogant politics; of the exact ilk you would expect from a stuffy East Coast country clubber, all evening, and calling the waiter over at least every six minutes for any manner of minor whim. All of which wouldn't have been that big a deal, if we weren't being waited on, or not waited on, as it were, by the same server, whose inattentiveness was wearing thin. Our food took an exorbitant amount of time, which again, wouldn't have really mattered because we didn't have much else to do, but we were with toddler-in-tow, and she was getting pretty crabby and loud herself, by the two-hour mark. Her crankiness was then garnering looks from the aforementioned table, and when I caught their eye on our table; I'm sure with a "just try me" look on my face, they quickly made up something about how "precious she is."
I was pretty frustrated by all this, but it was the food I actually cared about, so I was hoping it would be the Yachtsman Steakhouse's saving grace. But nope. It was a night of hits and misses, if I am going to be fair.
The complimentary bread basket came with a roasted garlic bulb, in addition to butter, which was a thoughtful touch. And our daughter is always a lot quieter with a roll in her craw.
For starters, we chose the Shrimp and Grits, and the Crabcake Doughnuts. I guess it's my fault for picking something creative and cute-sounding, but with a vague menu description of said doughnuts, I wrongly assumed that they would be something like little crab fritters, or hushpuppies even. Not really the case. Ugh, they were so weird. I don't know what else to say, other than crab doughnuts shouldn't be a thing. First off, they absolutely should not have been dusted with powdered sugar, under no circumstances. None. The chef had taken the whole idea of sweet and savory a bridge too far, like somewhere off the coast of Indonesia... It sure was a cheap way to ruin some expensive crab meat. Secondly, the center of the crabcake part was cold. Which is just kind of off-putting, no matter what. "Hot foods should be served hot;" thanks first rule of culinary school. And when I mentioned it to the waiter he acted surprised, then said that it was supposed to be "a little cool." Whatever that means... He didn't offer to have another appetizer made, or take it off the bill. He really was just trying to dismiss us. We didn't press the issue, but I didn't eat any more of it, either. My husband picked at it, just as not to waste it. In any of event, I hated this dish. Hated it. That was a really unpleasant taste; powdered sugar doughnut wrapped around a icy crabcake. Eff that noise.
On the other hand, the shrimp and grits appetizer was delicious, so it did its part to quell my anger, for a minute, anyway, brewing from all the other nonsense. The shrimp was cooked in a Cajun butter sauce, which was fantastic. We dipped our bread in whatever little drip-drops of sauce that were left on the plate. It was garnished with popcorn, which I thought was a creative detail that they actually got right. My husband liked the shrimp and grits much better too, but he just got a few bites, as he was banished to polishing off that crab doughnut monstrosity. "Muah-ha-ha. Get your hands off my grits, sucka!" as I stab at him with my fork.
But then, the entrees arrived. And the anger began to build, yet again. Yeesh, this place. My husband had ordered a steak, as it took up much of the menu; he figured they must be really good. I ordered the fried chicken, which at first glance sounded amazing, but guess what? That's right, it wasn't. Because they just tried too hard again, with this schizophrenic menu item.
What the eff? I mean really. You don't need to reinvent fried fucking chicken. Who does this chef think he is? Mussolini? When you order fried chicken, you are expecting some sort of chicken on the bone, that is fried, no? But instead what I got was a series of deconstructed, weird, dry, chicken cubes that looked like they were kicked down an alley of corn-flake crumbs. I'm not sure anyone could even identify that beige tableau as chicken. And why the fuck is there an ivy leaf on my plate? Yeah, we get it, you're an "ivy-league" restaurant. Whatever, dorks. The only edible and savory portion was the cornbread. It was so turned off by those sad Tyson Dino Nuggets excuse-for-fried-chicken that it didn't even want to associate with it and demanded its own skillet! So basically, I paid $26 for "pretty good" cornbread.
And if you thought that fried chicken dish tried too hard, the Yachtsman Steakhouse has the perfect temper for that! An anemic entree that barely tries at all. I hope you enjoy onions, because you've got one of 'em! The twice-baked potato was dry and tasteless; more like it was on its fifth or sixth bake, and the cognac sauce over the NY Strip while tasty, was also necessary, because the steak itself lacked any real flavor. Which is kind of a deal-breaker at a place that bills itself as a "steakhouse."
I was still pretty hungry after all this, as I only really had some shrimp and cornbread, so I ordered two desserts for us to share. We got the Chocolate Peanut Cake and the Fig Cheesecake. I did not get a picture of my beautiful cheesecake plate, and I could not find one on the vast Interweb either, as I looked for almost an hour, but I will attest that it was a triumph amongst all the kerplunks and chaos that comprised this dinner. It was a deconstructed cheesecake made with a sheepmilk's cheese called Agour, which has such a delicate, and refined flavor that really lent itself to the honeyed figs it lay beside. And it was artistically plated in a sharp line on a rectangular plate where you could decide which accompaniments to pair with the cheesecake, including a delicious honey ice cream. I wouldn't have thought to put ice cream with cheesecake, but this time, the creative gamble paid off. The chocolate peanut cake was also magnificent. It was nicely plated, with a salted caramel gelato and a streak of ganache offsetting the alternating layers of chocolate cake, pretzels pieces, and peanut butter mousse.
Whoever the pastry chef is at Yachtsman Steakhouse deserves a big, fat promotion, because their food was on point, and elevated to the level that the main kitchen couldn't seem to touch, but so desperately wanted to. I probably would have given the Yachtsman another try sometime, but when it came time to pay the bill, there of course, was a problem.
I had my Tables in Wonderland card, of which I've had countless over the years that I've used at every meal without incident. I gave the card to the waiter to discount the bill. Everything at first seemed to be fine. But then he came back to the table, phony apologetic; almost giddy, to tell me that he couldn't discount the bill because my husband's name was on the credit card we had given him to pay the bill after the discount. At this point, I was beyond frustrated, because he seemed to be dancing around this notion that we were somehow trying to scam them. Meanwhile we're the ones that were really getting scammed, being charged close to $200 for a couple of shrimp and dessert. But, I figured, okay, I've probably got enough cash to cover it, so that should solve the problem.
I informed him that we would just be paying cash, and to run the discount with my card, to which he then said, we couldn't pay cash either, with the card. What the fuck, pal? I wanted to scream. Now, I'm sure some of you out there think I am making this up or embellishing for effect, but I am not. He truly said I couldn't even pay in cash. I got the distinct feeling he thought I was using my mom's card, or something along those lines, because he said he would need to see a driver's license of "the cardholder" to be able to process the discount, like I wouldn't have such documentation. Funny, I just happened to have my license in my micro Louis Vuitton clutch, which I produced to the waiter immediately. I finally just said to him, "I'm not sure what you think, but this is my Tables in Wonderland card, here's my license, we've eaten at several Disney restaurants on this trip alone, already, and have never had this kind of problem. I want my discount so we can leave. It's been two and half hours already." This finally seem to kick him into gear and he came back with our discounted bill. After all this my husband wanted to leave him nothing by way of tip, but I just can't do that. I left him over 20%, just to rub it in his face a little and hopefully teach him a lesson. His service was worth about 10% and his demeanor over the Tables in Wonderland card would have earned him like 2.5%, but I idealistically like to think that maybe with an unexpected tip, he will think twice before treating another customer like that again. But it just as well may fall on deaf (and dumb) ears.
I cannot in good conscience recommend this restaurant, even though there were some delicious elements. Kudos to the pastry chef, whomever that may be, because they displayed quite a talent. But the remainder of the meal, the tired decor, the terrible service, the expense, and the bill debacle were just too much to tip the scales in their favor. There are too many other restaurants in the World to bother with the Yachtsman Steakhouse again.
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