The dining scene was a very different place in 2006. Chefs had become household celebrities with the help of the Food Network, Emeril's famous catchphrase, and Guy Fieri’s hair.
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The dining scene was a very different place in 2006. Chefs had become household celebrities with the help of the Food Network, Emeril's famous catchphrase, and Guy Fieri’s hair.
Even amongst cooks Thomas Keller, Feran Adria and Bourdain had reached a new level of untouchability. People were dining out with more appreciation for the unseen workers in the back. Customers had come, to a certain extent, to understand they weren’t always right and that chefs and cooks actually knew what the fuck they were doing. It was a pretty eye-opening time as cooks and customers alike were broadening their minds to include fish sauce, ramen, sous vide, and the innovations of gastronomy. It’s all so quant now that every diner seems knowledgable about BBQing, reverse searing and fermentation. Even at a time like that, Bourdain still saw enough wrong with the average diner that an education was in order. In “A View from the Fridge,” he offered a cooks perspective on dining behavior and misbehavior.
Sadly, 15 years of dining experience, numerous advocates, TV shows and social media haven’t helped diners progress past most of these mistakes. To be fair, countless documentaries of slowly tumbling salt and chefs pontificating like philosophers hasn’t exactly given a decent education on how to respectfully dine out. Post-shutdown, after months of to-go only business and more than a year of low to middling income, most restaurants are still struggling. It’s safe to say, the dining landscape is forever changed. So, in light of that, I thought it was time for a much-needed update to Bourdain’s customer etiquette.
Luckily or unluckily for me, I’ve worked through the whole pandemic. Luckily, I worked and saw the best in people. Regulars kept their routines despite losing their jobs. Customers I’d never met donated money and others came just to check on us. Unluckily, I worked and saw the worst in people. Those who don’t know how to read signs or follow instructions. And the worst, the zero tippers. What did all my hours breathing through a mask and standing over a wood fire teach me about dining out in this new restaurant landscape? I’ll tell you.
It’s a good general rule to think of dining out as being invited into someone’s home. For me that means, being courteous, overly understanding, patient, clean, generous, respectful, and most importantly I READ THE FUCKING SIGNS and adhere to them. It starts in the parking lot. This space says it’s for curbside pick-up, well then it’s only for curbside pick-up. The customer who can’t pick up their food isn’t going to complain to you when their rice is cold. They’re going to complain to the business you’re fucking over or worse, write a review on Yelp. This rule extends to any information on the doors or by the register. These signs will likely tell you what guidelines this restaurant has in place, which you should follow like an empty-headed cultist.
It’s a bit annoying reading all these signs, I know, but you know what’s more annoying than that? Telling every single customer that comes in exactly what’s on the sign they just walked past. And what’s more annoying than that? Getting sick without insurance or paid leave.
If I’m working my station and a customer walks in without a mask, it makes me lose my fucking mind. It’s been almost 2 years. How do you not get this? If the words “mask required” upsets you, well I have great news. You don’t have to go inside. Our job is hard enough. Just, respectfully, turn around and go somewhere else. It’s better for everyone. Should you choose to come inside, however, leave your politics at the door. Restaurants are run by humans for humans. You’re here to satisfy your hunger or enjoy an entertaining experience. Not to “express your freedoms.” This is our home – might as well be, we spend enough time here. If I invite you over for dinner and ask you to take your shoes off, are you really going to be so disrespectful as to exercise your freedom to wear shoes in my home? I cooked you dinner and you can’t take your shoes off for a couple of hours!? Or think of that sign welcoming you to your local convenience store: “no shirt, no shoes, no service.” Surely, restaurants deserve at least the same respect and dignity you show the place where you buy your late-night pint of ice cream. Be considerate, wear a mask. Wear a fucking clown hat if they tell you to. Wearing a mask is uncomfortable, I know, but look at it this way, you don’t have to wear it for 12 hours and you don’t have to wear it with a fire blazing in your face. All you have to do is wear it for the minute it takes to arrive at your table and the minute it takes you to go to the bathroom.
I often hear couples at the chef’s counter in front of me talking about their trips to Spain and complaining about their Teslas. Then, when it comes time for the check, I already know what’ll happen. They’ll argue over the price of that omakase sashimi plate or a glass of wine or something they “thought was on the house.” There is a certain level of techy who loves to flaunt their upper-middle-class extravagance but is desperately frugal when it comes to paying for services. I had a woman sit at the counter and “have an incredible experience” only to run down the list of charges when the bill arrived, pointing out that she “doesn’t think restaurants should force bad tippers to tip.” Those are exactly the types of people that need to be forced to tip.
Let’s be clear – and I can’t believe I still have to explain this, especially to anyone who works in food service – 20% is the minimum for tipping. Full stop. And not just at “nice” restaurants. All restaurants, bars, trailers, stalls, coffee shops, any place where food or drink is prepared for you. If that’s the only thing you take away from this piece, I’ll be happy. You might be saying that any percent of tips is dependent on the quality of the service and food. No. Tipping is no longer a “bonus” or incentive for good work. It’s a necessity. A cost of living, of going out, of entertainment and experience, and especially of service. Beyond that, service that is lacking is kind of excusable right now. That might hit some of you the wrong way; let me explain. Take it from an insider, good help is surely hard to find, but, with people leaving the industry in droves and fresh recruits not wanting to get their hands dirty, restaurants aren’t looking for good help at all, they’re looking for ANY help.
Me having to explain that is exactly why gratuity should be mandatory. Think of it as a service charge. You’re a little annoyed when an airline or a website charges you fees yet when the cooks and waitstaff you just watched like fish in an aquarium are quite literally at your service, you’re suddenly a little hostile to extra fees. Let’s put it another way: the bill isn’t for the service. That’s for the cost of food and booze. The gratuity is for the service.
Shaming non-tippers should be just as much a part of our society as covering your mouth when you sneeze. If you’re one of the savages who have such disregard for your fellow humans that you can’t tip or cover your mouth properly then you should be adequately shamed for it.
Be aware, any uncivil behavior, particularly poor tipping, will be discussed amongst the waitstaff in elaborate and pejorative detail.
The same mindfulness applies when making your reservations. Again, I can’t believe I have to say this in 2022, but being on time for your reservation matters. You’ve carved out a significant amount of time in the restaurant’s service window and limited dining room real estate. By reserving that time and table, you’ve formed an agreement with the staff and restaurant. Every minute you’re late for your 7:30 rezzo diminishes any possibility of turning that table over at 9 or later. Walk-ins gaze, mouth-drooling, at your empty table and the poor hosts have the burden of explaining your imminent arrival. You want to see real suffering? Look in the eyes of the cooks waiting for the last reservation of the night to arrive. Everything comes to a standstill. Without the last table, the last ticket, the kitchen can’t be broken down and staff can’t begin their closing duties. Should those customers arrive 15-30 minutes late, the least they could do is eat in a timely manner, rather than drag the staff down further by setting up a tent and taking one bite every few minutes.
Or in a horrifying turn of events, they won’t show at all, not even giving the courtesy of a call. Instead, leaving the whole staff on hold until a manager makes the final call to shut it down. That is why deposits are required for reservations. These types of people along with those who make multiple reservations in one night and abandon all but one – who back in 2006 Bourdain called out as being “the blood enemies of restauranteurs and their staff” – deserve to have their dining out privileges revoked permanently.
Those of you that stick to togo’s might think your limited interaction with the restaurant can help you avoid any of these mistakes. I’m here to tell you, it doesn’t. After experiencing a year of having togo’s shoehorned into a restaurant not designed for takeaway, I’ve learned some things.
If I’m getting food to go, I’ll tell you how I do it. I’m following procedures to the letter, like George in the Soup-Nazi line and tipping 20% at least. I’m not looking in any boxes. I’m not complaining about missing sauces or the temperature of the food. I don’t ask for silverware or napkins or sauces and I don’t care if they forget anything. Believe it or not, you are not entitled to ketchup or mustard or soy sauce, or even plastic utensils. By all means, request them, but don’t complain if the person handing you your food does not read your mind or know what’s in your drawers. Restaurants run on very slim margins and every condiment or utensil or napkin you take that you don’t need is draining the profit that could otherwise go to the person who is handing you those extra items.
And I never, I mean NEVER, use delivery apps and I highly discourage you to as well. Not just because I’ve seen the way these drivers handle people’s food or their dirty fingernails or because I’ve had to endure their smells as they order. First, it’s because everyone tips their delivery person and never the restaurant. Second, restaurants have to pay a percentage for each sale to these companies, sometimes upwards of 30%. It might not be a big deal now, but during the pandemic this extra cost was essential. If you absolutely can’t give up your food deliveries, at the very least make sure you tip the restaurant in the app or instruct the driver to do so for you.
Lastly, if you’re having a tasting menu and you don’t want to eat, say, duck. Eat the fucking duck. You don’t like duck, you say. My response to that is always the same: you haven’t had THIS duck. The more complicated you want to make your tables order, the more you’re slowing down the kitchen and the less the cooks can focus on making that food as perfect as it can be.
Standing as I do over my station on the other side of the chef’s counter, customer’s eyes glued to me as if I were on their TV, pointing and gawking as I shift a log on the fire, I often wonder if customers care as much about us and how they treat us as they do about our recipes, the way we cook or how cool they think we look.
Honestly, I can’t say they do.
It really doesn’t take much, though.
Be understanding and respectful. Be punctual. Leave a decent tip – no less than 20%. Have a willing attitude, a smile, or a kind word. Maybe leave a few beers for the kitchen. Our appreciation will show, as it always has, by inviting you back into our home to serve you as if you were a member of our family.
Understand and respect. Be punctual. Leave a decent tip – no less than 20%. Have a willing attitude, a smile or a kind word. Maybe leave a few beers for the kitchen. Our appreciation will show, as it always has, by inviting you back into our home to serve you as if you were a member of our family.
