situated in the quiet suburban setting of mercer island, the roanoke inn was once a hotly visited location in the era of the lake washington foot ferry. its been owned by the same family for decades. this afternoon, i was in need of a change in scenery. recalling the roanoke as the spot my dad treated me to my first legal beer, i thought "what the hell." hell indeed. despite its slogan "where friends meet friends," the service was horrible and they were unable to provide even the most basic of hospitality. the waiter twice ignored my friend, didn't ask him what he wanted to eat or drink. don't expect to be acknowledged at the roanoke, that is unless you are a rich suburb-dwelling white republican. the only saving grace is that they serve southern tier ipa, quite a fine brew. being a vegetarian, i don't expect much in the way of accommodation, but the roanoke reaches a new low. if you ask for the sour cream to be held on your order, don't expect them to. they act as if they are going out of the way to even consider holding the dairy. on the front of the menu they extol the virtues of their warm and inviting atmosphere and rich community history, but this couldn't be further from the truth. i'd like to have something positive to say other than they serve one good beer, but unfortunately this place has royally blown it...rating: *
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