The Ire of the Career Server and Diners’ Insecurity

I am no longer a fine-dining server, but I was for almost 15 years.  I wrote this years  ago because I had to get it out of my system.  Don't think I'm a jerk right away, read this carefully and you'll realize I actually wish that people would treat servers like what they are .  .  . merely, the help.

I guess that I cannot blame the modern diner for the bloated cache of insecurities that they have formed over the years. After all, who hasn’t perceived the cold stare of the disapproving server, glowering at their ill-formed selections or behavior? Is one making the correct decision in regards to food and wine or which fork to employ? There are so many choices and yet so many customs that dictate those very decisions.

            I can spot them from the door, the insecure diner. They peek timidly from the outside, planning the most efficient route to the host stand. Sometimes, it seems as if finding the host stand is a daunting chore and the insecure diner is reticent to cross the dining room floor in order to employ the services of the host. They stand timidly in an ambiguous corner of the restaurant waiting to be delivered from uncertainty.

Next comes the selection of the table. Many times I have been asked to guide a guest to our “best table”. After all of these years in the business, I reply, “The best table is whichever one you like.” This often leaves them looking befuddled, confused. They wander with uncertainty toward the table of their choosing. This used to be the most entertaining in a French restaurant that I worked in where each table was identical in size, shape, and location in a perfectly square dining room.

I used to guide the guest to a corner table or even one close to the kitchen because that’s where I like to sit. (It seems as if more people might like to keep an eye on the chef, but they don’t.) However, it seems as if the first table that people are offered is rarely satisfactory. Inevitably they feel the host has profiled them and is seating them in an inferior location and everyone always desires to sit “over there” instead. I'm not quite sure where "over there" is, but the guests alwasy believe it's better. Rarely does the guest consider that their service will be slower because they have elected to sit in the section of a server who is already busy instead of the server who is leaning against the wall eager to serve the next guest.

Finally the guest has been seated, usually electing to keep his or her jacket. I don’t know why people want to keep their jackets. It makes the dining room look cluttered and devoid of any sort of class. (The only thing more disheartening is sitting through an entire church service on Sundays when it seems as if puffy North Face jackets are considered fashionable over wear. How did the tweed blazer become so rarified?) I always check my jacket. If I’m out of cash I may offer the attendant a drink or a simple explanation, “I didn’t have time to stop for cash. Might I tip you double next time?” Quite frankly, unless one is at an establishment where ladies disrobe for tips, the coat check does not necessarily need to be compulsorily compensated. Also if your server fetches your coat for you, another gratuity is not expected.

Now the real insecurity begins. The waiter approaches the table and takes the beverage order. There are three responses that the waiter would like to hear: 1) Might I have a moment please? I’m undecided as to what I’d like this evening. 2) I’d like a gin martini with olives, please. (Or fill in with whatever aperitif is customary for yourself.) 3) Might I see a wine by the glass list, please? (Being careful to check the table for one first.)

Aperitifs used to be a bit more regulated. The French have Lillet, the Italians have Campari and soda, and the Americans have martinis. Any of these are fine choices. An aperitif should be like a classic hairstyle—consistent and dependable. Frankly, if I’m going out to dinner I usually have my first drink order planned by lunch time, “Sapphire martini up, no vermouth, with olives, please.” And technically speaking, it's not a martini if you leave the vermouth out but I find that servers get confused if you merely say "up" instead of "martini, no vermouth". 

There seems to be a trend amongst younger people and inexperienced diners to request a martini list. (Never mind that most of these beverages are actually cocktails parading as a martini.) It’s all the rage to have mango-infused vodka with muddled thyme leaves, a splash of orange flower water with a garnish of crystallized ginger. While it’s okay to have a dalliance with an original cocktail, one should have a tried and true soldier always waiting in the wings. Examples include: Gin & Tonic, a Negroni, Kir Royale, Dewars & Soda, and so forth and so on. This pays off in the long run when you are running late and your friends and family are able to order your established beverage to be waiting for you when you arrive. Also keep in mind that that creative "martini" list is a way to bilk you out of cash by diluting actual alcohol with a lot of less expensive ingredients, usually a combination of fruit and sugar water. 

Now comes the most hated part of my job as a waiter, supplying my guests with water. Don’t get me wrong, I want my guests to have water. I drink a lot of water when I dine out. However, underhanded tactics have caused many guests to form poor habits when indicating what water they prefer.

Many restaurants will cow guests into bottled water by only offering bottled water. As a guest, I simply stare at the selection of Pellegrino, Acqua Panna, and Voss and simply say, “Ice water, please.” Do not hesitate, apologize or explain. Quite frankly, unless you are drinking wine that is exorbitantly priced, I wouldn’t worry about the insignificant effect that trace amounts of fluoride and chlorine have on your Robert Parker-sensitive palate.

The other tactic that restaurants have used is not automatically supplying water to patrons. This has produced guests that are uncertain if water is arriving. Any restaurant that is providing table service should provide water but, unfortunately, this does not follow. However, there are several very obvious cues that guests routinely overlook in their nervous procurement of water. First and foremost, if there are water glasses already set at the table, water is coming. Do not request water. Secondly, if one is at the type of restaurant where a choice of salad-dressing is not offered, water is coming. Do not request water. And finally, if the server has already asked what type of water you’d like, do not ask for it again. Your server is about to communicate to his assistant what type you have requested and it will arrive shortly.

Over the years, I have learned to avoid the water scenario by making it my first order of business. “Good evening, how is everyone enjoying themselves tonight? Excellent then, do you prefer mineral water or iced water?” Note that I don’t even pressure the guest by saying ‘tap water’ or ‘bottled water’. “May I offer you a beverage, perhaps a martini or glass of champagne?” Then my nightmare begins, many guests will answer my offer with, “I just want water”. The problem is, I’ve already covered that issue. Water is forthcoming. Why the redundant request? The phenomenon has a ripple effect on the next guest, “Of course, water is coming. May I offer anyone else a beverage?” The next guests replies with admirable persistence, “I’ll just have water.” The reply, “Of course, water will be provided for everyone. Does anyone care for anything else to drink?” Often crickets can be heard chirping at this point.

You may think me evil. But I am not. The only answer that is proper and required should you desire only water after it has been ordered is a simply, “No, thank you”, or even, “Nothing”. Many guests will attempt to hearten me by saying, “Nothing right now, but I’ll have something later.” Even more interesting are the guests that explain to me, “I don’t drink”. What don’t they drink I wonder? Snapple? YooHoo? Servers don’t care that you don’t drink alcohol. They don’t care why you’re not ordering a beverage now, later, or never. Servers simply want to bring you what you want. All of these attempts to explain your behavior somehow indicate that you feel you must explain your habits to someone who is compelled to wait on your requests.

And so, I’ve come to wonder as to why people have the need to explain their habits to me? I’m just the waiter, the help, if you will. The same scenario follows when people order their fare for supper. “You know we’re just going to do something really casual.” Or my favorite, “We’re going to do something really different tonight.” You haven’t fooled the server with a new concept. He already knows that you’re just going to order a selection of appetizers, salads, and/or soup—basically, anything except an entrée. Of course there is always the classic explanation, “I had a really big lunch, so I’m just going to have a salad.” Of course this is usually the guest that requests a second bread basket for the table.

The bread basket is another mystery to the Midwestern diner. Bread should automatically appear with the soup/salad course and be cleared before the entrée. Mystery solved. It is not an appetizer course. It is used to accompany a green salad, sop up the last bit of soup, or accompany a cheese course. Should you desire bread sooner, simply ask for it. Don’t ask “Do you have bread?” and do not explain why you want or need it. However, do not become upset with a server who does not bring it until the salad course. That’s when it’s supposed to arrive. (And by the way, Americans have still yet to figure out that the cheese course, should you want one, is supposed to be ordered after the entrees and before dessert, not as an appetizer.) 

Of course, there are many of you who quit reading long ago. They have thrown this article into the trash upset by the arrogant ramblings of a career server. But my point is not that Midwestern diners are inherently inept, they are tremendously insecure about their dining experience. Often my wife and I will go out to dinner, bring our own bottle of wine (Make sure you check the wine list before you arrive. It is tacky to bring wine that the restaurant already provides.) and split an entrée, especially at steakhouses where the portion sizes are gargantuan. However, we make no explanation of our behavior to the server and often we tip the server a bit extra because he suffered the loss of the sale of a bottle of wine that he had to open and pour anyway. It’s also nice if you feel like racking up the tip a bit more even, especially if the server had the chef split the entrée without having to be asked. After all, he’s still doing the same amount of work. You’re just eating a bit less.

I guess I’ve gotten myself pretty worked up over this point of diners’ insecurities. It came to critical mass about a month ago when a group of women began their order by saying to me, “We’re not going to be your big spenders tonight,” to which I replied, “Ladies, you don’t ever have to explain yourself to your server. We’re just the help.” They thanked me for being so nice to them and setting them at ease. They said they’d never had a server be so accepting of their frugal dining style. I got to have the satisfaction of knowing that I’d rendered the most subtle of social insults to their faces and they got to finally feel like they didn’t have to defend themselves to a judgmental waiter. Everyone was a winner.

Salad . . . and other drugs

Yes, salad.  We are all told that we should toss a healthy salad several times a week at home as an appetizer to dinner.  The intelligentsia set amongst us also know that we can serve the salad after the entree as a sort of light refreshing course to end the meal and aid in digestion.  Recently my wife and I followed a vegan diet for the course of three weeks.  (Okay, there was a couple swordfish steaks that I couldn't resist at Whole Foods one day.)  However, it was a valuable lesson in what I call the "diminishing returns" of the palate. 

Often when I am making a sandwich, and I am trying to cut calories, I amp up the acidic components such as mustard, vinegar, pickles, peppers, etc.  However, when I put cheese on the same sandwich, I noticed I didn't really taste the cheese as much because it wasn't the focus of flavor anymore.  In fact, I was just eating the calories of the cheese but pretty much tasting a whole bunch of giardiniera.  Hence, I learned to leave out the cheese.  But I digress, back to diminishing returns, actually that was what I just got done explaining.  Maybe I didn't digress after all.  The takeaway point, is that I learned that I didn't miss cheese as a component of many dishes, it had diminishing returns if it wasn't the focus of the overall flavor profile.  Many times, we are eating calories that are not "paying out" in terms of the sensation that we are reaping on the tongue.  I do however still tremendously mourn my ritual of snacking on Brie and baguette while I am cooking dinner.  So, if you are using high calorie components that are merely playing quiet background music in your cooking, cut it out!

Another thing that I observe when trying to rein in my diet is how many healthy foods I observe in deli cases at the finer grocery stores:  wheat berry salads, blanched kale with sesame oil, fresh fruit salads, cold whole-grain noodles with peanut sauce and cabbage, etc.  I always think to myself that if I had the time to make all that stuff, I'd be much healthier chap.  Okay, now this post has turned into three main points:  1) Diminishing Returns:  What is the flavor payout as a ratio to amount of calories?  Mustard has a very high payout, excessive oil may not.  2) If my refrigerator looked like the deli case at Whole Foods, I'd probably be thinner due to never having to rely on "quick" or "cheater" snacks like chips, crackers, etc. and now my original point which I still haven't gotten around to yet: 3) Salads should focus on lettuces some of the time, not ad nauseum, ad infinitum.  I realize that stocking the fridge with healthy salads can be both time consuming and expensive.  Such is the fact that we live in the only country in the world where processed foods are cheaper than their healthier counterparts. (Thank you US government for accidentally creating this phenomena by subsidizing corn production.)

To my original point, I made a lovely Farro and Roasted Butternut Squash side for dinner last night.  You can read the recipe here.  I'm not going to repeat the recipe because you can link to it and read it for yourself.  However, we are going to talk about this in just a little bit more detail:  Is this an entree, a side dish or a salad?  It is, in fact, all three.  Served with a side of vegetables, it is easily a lovely dinner in its own right.  I put it on the side of a roasted chicken, a lovely side dish. Now if any of you know me well, you know that I cannot cook a recipe without diverging from it, at least a little bit.  I left out the goat cheese and added dried cherries. Yes, even though the vegan diet is over, I am trying to eat a more plant based diet.  Besides, I think it improved the recipe immeasurably by leaving out the tang of cheese and adding the tang of cherries. 

So now, we are going to return to my three main points listed above. 1) I decided that the goat cheese would have diminishing returns.  Yes, it may add a little bit of tang, but it would be overpowered by the other strong flavors present, walnut oil, farro, roasted onions.  Calories without a lot of return.  I should also mention here that I recently bought a lovely bottle of walnut oil and it's changing my world.  2) My refrigerator needs to resemble a deli case so that I have lunch for the following day.  So, I followed the original recipe to cook enough to have leftovers.  But here now is how we morph a hearty side dish into a salad, I added a splash of tarragon vinegar to lift the flavors and change the flavor profile so that it would taste good cold.  Voila!  3)  Salads need to stop being leaves.  Clearly, this salad doesn't have a leaf near it, however, if you had this farro salad left over and needed to stretch it and serve it as an appetizer to a crowd, you could easily cut up a hearty romaine and toss it in, tasting for seasoning to ensure that the salad still has the right balance of oil, vinegar, and salt.  If you learn one thing, I hope that when you look in the refrigerator and see that you are out of spring mix, you turn to your pantry and wonder to yourself what you can do with chilled, cooked lentils, beans, grains, and other clever things.  There is a world of salad beyond just leaves, and I don't mean potato salad.