KNOW THY FOOD or, the tale of two cows

A big cow strolls out into a field of green grass. A narrow fresh water stream wiggles its way through the pasture. As the big cow begins to feast on some beautiful, rich grass, he takes notice of the stream and steps over for a drink. Looking up from the stream, he sees another cow strutting his way toward him. 

The second cow moves with firm, strong steps. His hind quarters are defined and muscular. His snout is strong and he even breathes with authority. He approaches the stream and stops, looks around as if for searching for an adoring fan, and then bends, sips from the stream, and looks at the big cow on the other side. 

"Hey," the big cow mooed. 

"Uh, yeah, hey," the muscle cow re-mooed. 

The big cow bent his head down and took a huge mouthful of grass, chewed it in his jowls from left to right and back again, and slobbered it down his throat. 

"Um, what are you doing?" the muscle cow asked, his eyes wide, near horror.

"Eatin' grass--shrummpff shrummpfff--why?"

The muscle cow looked him over. " That's like, disgusting."

"Whaddya mean? You don't--shrummpff--eat grass?"

"No, I eat feed pellets. Grain, too, I think. And vitamins. Lots of vitamins."

The big cow, in between chewing, looked over the muscle cow. "What's in the grain?"

The muscle cow thought for a moment before re-mooing. "Well, it's good stuff, a little dry, but check me out. I feel great."

"You don't know what's in the grain, do you?" the big cow mooed. 

"It doesn't matter, dude, check out these hind quarters." He proudly flexed his muscles, posed upright on his back legs, offering his front hooves and massive chest as proof his diet was superior. 

"Yeah, but we're cows. We're supposed to eat grass."

"How do you know?"

"Instinct, I guess. Didn't your mom show you this?"

"My mom? I never really met my mom."

"Sorry, bud. Anyway, we're supposed to eat grass. It's part of our DNA."

"Alright, now you're mooing my language. See here, here comes my...my uh, my dad, yeah. My dad." He gestured to a man walking across the field toward the two cows. 

The big cow spied the man coming at them. "You mean that guy, in the long white lab coat, is your DAD??" The big cow thought to himself, what the f---???

The man in the long white lab coat was carrying a black medicine bag. He approached the muscle cow, removed a large syringe from the black bag, tapped the needle and injected it swiftly into the muscle cow's rear end. "MOOOOOooooooHOOOOooooohoooo-hoo-hoo-hoo!"

The man thrust a thermometer in the muscle cow's butt, waited ten seconds, heard a beep, and removed the thermometer. He noted the temperature by speaking it into a handheld voice recorder. He reached into his black bag, took out a second syringe, stuck it into cow's rear end, and the cow let out the same long mooooo-hoo-hoo. The man in the coat then stepped over to the muscle cow's ears, and using a tool, removed a tag from the right ear, and replaced it with another ear tag. Then, the man left. 

The big cow stood motionless, staring at the muscle cow, who stood frozen, and whose eyes were now wide and glassy. His muscle cow lips were open a bit, and his muscle cow teeth were exposed, and his whole face was now in a bit of a stupor, with a bizarre county fair clown smile that would not go away. He didn't even blink.  

"Hey bud, are you...okay?"

The muscle cow did not reply. 

"Um, bud, can I, um, can I get you some help? Maybe you should take a drink of water."

The muscle cow still did not reply. The same stupid smile remained on his chiseled face. "Uh, cow, you alright?" Another couple of minutes, and then, the muscle cow SNAPPED BACK INTO CONSCIOUSNESS. 

"MOOOOHOOOHOOO!!! Yeah, yeah! That was my man! What a shot of love! Feelin' good!!" 

The big cow stepped back. "Uh, what was that all about?"

"What?"

"That, the man in the coat, he stuck a needle in your butt, you moo-hoo-hoo-hooed, another needle found its way into your ass, and then you froze up like an icicle."

"Ahhhh, that happens when I get my vitamins. Just a little shock before the good stuff kicks in."

The big cow looked up at the sky, down at the grass, and around the pasture. "How long have you been getting those, um, vitamins?"

The muscle cow thought for a minute. "Dunno, best guess, maybe, I've been getting them all my life."

"Same reaction every time?"

"Yeah, man, except it's gotten a little stronger, or so I'm told, I always blackout a little, you know?"

"No, I don't."

"You don't get vitamins?"

"Don't need'em."

"How do you know?"

"Cause I just come out here, drink some of this nice cold water, eat this delicious grass, and wander around a little. Every now and then I say hello to the ladies up the hill, after they come out of the dairy barn. Got to give the man his milk, they always say."

The muscle cow looked perplexed. "What, uh, what's...milk?"

The big cow's eyes dropped a little. "You're kidding, right? Tell me you're kidding. This isn't possible. You're kidding, aren't you?"  Muscle cow scrunched his brow and rolled his confused glassy eyes. "Okay, listen, I gotta go. But come back here tomorrow, and I will explain to you about milk, cows, eating grass, and living the good life here under the sun. Okay?"

The muscle cow thanked him. "Cool, dude, you are the best, but no can do tomorrow. I heard my dad telling his friend that I've got a field trip planned tomorrow to a factory."

The big cow hung his head, moo-sighed, and turned to leave. "Take care, bud. Have a good trip." 

Muscle cow strutted off, with a blade of grass in his mouth. "Hey! This stuff isn't half bad! Needs a little sauce, but it's good!"

The big cow lumbered back toward the barn, his natural head swinging side to side, his easy disposition the only thing that mattered under the sun, in the rich green pasture. 

Now, vegetarians aside, which cow would you want to provide your steak? 

And that's the view from my table.

Anti Foodie Strikes Fear into the Establishment! Film at Eleven!

Anti foodie?!? Against food, not in favor of eating anything that resembles food, and protests the world over outside of every restaurant, every where??? (some guy in a shabby long coat with a poster board that reads, "EAT NOTHING-SAVE A PLANT")


Not so much. I am probably the most anti-foodie-foodie there is out there. You see, I am not a culinary snob. I do love food, don't kid yourselves, lots and LOTS of food, but I am not the in the know omg-you gotta try this because, it's like so amazing, you know-foodie. I really loathe those people. Example, I think Mario Batali has some of the best restaurants I've ever been to. I have watched many episodes of 'Molto Mario' and he's one of my favorite chefs. I love just listening to how he describes cooking techniques, and watching how these beautiful dishes he creates just come together. Many times it's simple and thoughtful cooking.


Flip side: I cannot bear to watch "On the Road", the show in which Mario tours Spain with Gwyneth Paltrow--huh??? This show came on a few months ago and I despised it immediately. The two of them together ooze snobbery, like gummy bears melting in the Mediterranean sun. They eat in places so ridiculous, with guests like Michael Stipe from REM--ok, the scene where Mario and Gwyneth are in the Mercedes convertible cruising through the Spanish countryside, and whoa-ho, here comes a surprise guest in his Mercedes, Michael Stipe--"I just had dinner with your husband," (referring to Gwyn's hubby who is the lead singer of Coldplay)--SO FREAKIN' WHAT! If Mario Batali is in Spain, I want to watch Mario shopping for food in Spanish markets, and cooking food in traditional Spanish cooking methods. I don't need to see the two of them having an orgasmic moaning session over dishes in a kitchen with some other major celebrities, giving foo-foo commentary over some dish I haven't watched being prepared. This is unreal FOODIE stuff.


The anti foodie in me wants to watch Anthony Bourdain's "No Reservations"-where he tours the world and gets to try out cooking from real people in real places-like a barbecue on a riverfront in Taiwan, or a taco stand in Mexico City, this is real food from real people. If I could choose one guy to travel with, hang out, drink and eat with, it's Anthony Bourdain. And if you haven't already, read his book, "Kitchen Confidential."


Foodies got there start in high school: they owned the little exclusive cliques of popular kids, and if you sat down next to them in the cafeteria, they looked at you and said, "um, like, what are YOU doing here sitting next to US?" (ok, that NEVER happened to me...) Now those same foodies send blazing text messages about meeting at the latest 'raw food' restaurant. That's one that'll just make me insane--go out to eat at a restaurant, and pay for food that is served raw. Just stay home, save your money and gnaw on some uncooked broccoli florets, a clove of garlic and some carrots. Add a little steak tartare and you've got a gastronmic trip to the emergency room.

Foodies will shop at and lose their money every week at Whole Foods (aka Whole Paycheck) If you live in New York City, shop at Fairway or Trader Joe's and get really great food at great prices.

So what's an anti foodie? Anti foodies care about REAL food, food that comes from REAL sources (read: not processed, messed with, growth-hormoned or steroid injected, basically, the anti-A-Rod section in your favorite grocery store). We buy chicken that is raised the way nature intended, without the use of science. We buy pork from Niman Ranch or Applegate Farms, pork that was raised in a natural environment, not penned in like a psychotic serial killer. We take fresh herbs like rosemary and oregano and use real butter and extra virgin olive oil, and prepare a dish with only a few ingredients and steps, so the aromas from the roasting pan match the flavor and anticipation of the meal. Anti foodies cook a really great meal in less than an hour.


I think the anti foodie champion is Mark Bittman, who writes the Minimalist column in the New York Times Dining Guide. Bittman takes gourmet food and reinterprets it so it can be cooked at home, using simple, real ingredients that are accessible to everyone. That's the kind of thing I love--taking real, basic ingredients, and making them taste GREAT. That's the true mark of a cook; making the most basic ingredients into the the most incredible meals.


So to all the foodies out there, go on, keep doing what you're doing. There is a place for you, somewhere between the macrobiotic raw sea kelp and the velveeta. But if I sit down next to you in a restaurant, don't look at me like I don't know the difference between truffles and tripe. And the next time you decide to declare the latest trend, or text your friends that the "Beaujolais nouveau is coming! the Beaujolais nouveau is coming!", take a closer look at the guy outside in the long shabby coat. It might be me!


And that's the view from my table.

Have I got a TIP for YOU!

Do you tip for bad service? Do you get bad service, and think, well, they gotta make a living, so here's the 15% and then you leave, feeling like you've been ripped off?

Do you tip more than 20% all the time? Great service, whether it's from the diner waitress who's been at it for 20 years, or top notch service at a restaurant like Union Square Cafe--what's it worth?

Great service is an easy one--you expect it when you're eating at the restaurants of one of the great chefs, be it Mario Batali, Thomas Keller, Charlie Trotter--but we've all had great service at places where you least expect it, like a favorite greasy spoon. I had some of the best service at a joint in East Greenwich, RI, a place called Jigger's. Great breakfast spot. People line up for this place on the weekends, and the bacon and coffee are worth it, but the service is amazing! Fast and friendly, it's always right on.

BAD SERVICE REALLY SUCKS. It costs money. It creates agida. It makes you want to scream. And the hardest part is that it all unravels very slowly, like the thread from your sweater. What gives? Why do I have to ask for water-again?? Why doesn't the waiter even LOOK at me? Are they growing the lettuce for my salad?

How do you spot it? It's evident the moment you sit down. The host or hostess will blithely walk away after dropping your menus on the table. Then--nothing. A few minutes go by. No attention. The pit in your stomach howls at you. No hello. No drink order. Then, THE APOLOGY. "I'm sorry, can I get you something to drink??"

Do yourself a favor, and LEAVE. Seriously, get up and go eat somewhere else. You are about to get BAD SERVICE. And the food will not make up for it.

How do you avoid bad service? Don't eat out on Sunday nights. The restaurant owners of the world will hate me for this, but it's true. The "B" team is always working on Sunday nights. The best waitstaff works Tuesday through Saturday nights. Those are the money nights. Sunday is the leftovers, the ones who need more training and probably aren't getting it. If you insist on going out on Sunday night, then go to a place you know and trust completely.

Next, dine at places you know. Repeat customers are FAVORITE customers. Repeat customers are the ones that will get a complimentary glass of wine, dessert, maybe a special course or tasting menu. And if you are comfortable eating somewhere that you know the food is good, and the service is too, then why not go back? It's good to try new spots, but wait until you hear from someone else.

If it's a new restaurant that you've been dying to try, then check out this test; what's the greeting like at the door? Are they warm and friendly? Smiling and professional? Do they run you through the dining room to your table or do they make sure that you are still with them all the way to the table? The greeting will give you an indication of the level of training the staff has gone through. Also, if you are waiting for your table at the bar, order a drink, and see what the attention level and knowledge level is of your bartender. Ask the barkeep about something on the menu. You can gauge the level of service in the restaurant by the responses you get before you even sit down at your table. Every member of the staff should be versed in the menu, how the food is prepared, and every member should be able to answer your questions or at the very least provide you with someone who can answer your questions.

What can you do when you are in the middle of bad service? Say something. Talk to the manager--but I also like to talk to another waiter. If you can spot a waiter that you see is attentive to their tables, then it's great to get someone else who's on the same level as the doofus who's been ruining your evening. There is always a fair amount of friendly competition among the waitstaff. But if you are making the commitment to the meal, you have a responsibility to at least say something-firmly and diplomatically. Making a scene isn't worth it. A subtle and firm remark to the manager will get results. And if you don't get a response, the power of the letter or email, is next. Remember as much as you can, waiter's name, what he looked like, and write it up and send it over to the restaurant the NEXT DAY. Don't wait. Who's responsible for this muck-up? Read a few posts below about hiring great people--management and ownership are totally responsible for hiring the right folks and training them properly. Some people just aren't cut out for customer service!

Should you tip for this? If the service is abhorrent, then I say no. If the waiter is one eye short of oblivious, you have no obligation to leave a tip. I don't care how big the bill is. But if some things went wrong, then I would break out the tip calculator on the cell phone and leave a to the penny 15% tip. Good service and beyond, well, that's an easy 20%. Remember that waiters earn their rent, car payments, beer money--all from tips. And be as generous as you want! The diner waiter will LOVE you for it. So, be kind, but be firm; and don't waste your money on bad service.

And that's the view from my table.

I started this thing...

...And I didn't get anywhere. Truth is I wrestled with the idea of it, blogging about only customer service at first. Then I discovered facebook. Now that I have a way to reach the masses, I realized that there was more I wanted to say about the restaurant business than just customer service. It is so important to understand the elements of food--the reason we dine out to begin with--and where that food comes from, and what it went through to get to the plate in front of you. So this blog is now changing just a bit, from service slanted to all things "food service".

And I'm talking about REAL food. REAL service. I will rant about bad unhealthy stuff, and praise food grown from farmers that practice sustainable agriculture. We'll talk about service in the restaurant, and what makes it good or not so good; but we'll also talk about how bringing real food to the table ends up being good service unto itself.

So if you have a question about food, dining in or dining out, or if you've been the victim of poor service when eating out, or even if you just want to know how to cut an onion, hang around. We'll talk about it.

And that's the view from my table.

People, who needs People????

I recently had someone interview for a position at a restaurant I am consulting with. Question: How do you recognize good service? He filled in the ever so typical answer "I'm really good with people." He was narrow mouthed--couldn't get the words out of the narrow slit between his upper lip and lower lip. He kept darting his eyes, not really making eye contact, almost trying not to. And he slumped his shoulders. Really, what kind of impression could he have hoped to make? If an ad for a nearly mute, introverted sloth was placed, he would certainly nail the interview. 

When did people become so good with one another? If all those people who said they were good with people, then we would all be really good with one another, and not have any service complaints whatsoever. And I would be blogging about my dog--all 110 pounds of big lab love.

People are NOT good with people. I know, I know, you've read the previous posts and you're thinking 'here comes the cynical rant. He was so warm and positive.' Really, it's true. People are not good with people. Yes, some are. Some are VERY good. I have seen a concierge in a hotel turn on a dime, handle three or four requests in the amount of time it takes someone to stir sugar in a latte, and satisfy the most difficult of guests. And I have also seen a sales person in Macy's simply tell a woman, "I don't know, you have to go ask over there." 

Most people have trouble expressing themselves with others. And put someone into a position where they have to interact with others, and then have to answer a question--they usually pass the buck, ditch any notion of responsibility and reply, "you have to ask over there."

Mostly, I blame the company. Don't hire someone and put them into a position of "service" if they can't interact! Where was the interview? Did they check references? Did they train them? And if so, what made someone think that a mute, narrow mouthed eye averting slumpy shouldered individual would be a good customer service rep? 

Good service--from the floor sales folks at Macy's to the best waiters at your favorite restaurant, begins with good examples and good hiring. If you hire good people-this means raising your own standards, and it means tough choices--then you will reap the rewards of providing good service, and increased sales! 

People are only as good with the people that hire the right people. 

And that's the view from my table. 

-The General Manager

Empathy! But of course!

When exactly was it that the service went out of the dining experience?


My earliest memory of dining out was at a little Italian spot on Long Island. We went there probably twice a month, my sister, me, mom and dad. From what I remember the food was unremarkable-I recall having stuffed shells or manicotti, usually buried in tomato sauce and slathered with mozzarella. Most of the Americanized Italian restaurants served dishes like this, cheese in the middle, a thick gooey layer of mozzarella-fresh "muz" if you call yourself a New Yawk Italianite-melted on top, giving your meal tiers of starch, dairy, tomato, dairy.


But it wasn't the cheese-as a kid, that was always the best part of the meal-more cheese, and more garlic bread. Still the fact that I remember only the service we received is tantamount to the experience. We had a waiter-and he was always our waiter when we were there-and he had a tag line. When you asked him something, he always graciously replied, "But of course!" At that he snapped off to retrieve exactly what it was we wanted. And you never had to ask him twice. Not only was this great service, but it was great fun, too. That little tag line soon became part of the vernacular in our house (much to my mother's chagrin).


These memories are forever a part of our eternal being. And it stands to reason that this is because there are fewer and fewer of these experiences to stand with them. My wife and I, before becoming parents, dined out often, as many married couples without children do ( or did, before this crazy economy! ). I can recall on less than one hand the number of times we had GREAT service. The rest of the times were divided between unremarkable and poor experiences.

I am very sympathetic to the plight of the waiter. Many in New York are out of work actors, and many are struggling students, artists, etc., trying to piece together a week's pay on tips. Hourly wages are poor, and tips can be hard to come by, even if they give fantastic service. And there are long hours, and the occasional crackpot customer who is so difficult it can cause you to lose your mind.

Still, in all of our times dining out (check that spelling, folks, dining has ONE 'n' in the middle-if I see it on a menu board in chalk, "dinning room open" I usually crunch up my shoulders and break out in hives) my wife and I recall that the best service we received came when we least expected it. And when we expected good service, well, that expectation can border on assumption, and you know what happens when you assume things...


So what does it take to give good service? One word: empathy. Yes, empathy. It's the cornerstone of hospitality. Understanding how someone else feels, where they may have been or just come from, and how you can make their day better through just one encounter. Empathy is also found in the tone set by the restaurant itself; if ownership/management cares, then there will be a sense of accountability within the establishment, and this is a very important part of creating an environment where good service thrives. If the leadership team of the restaurant cares, then all those involved in customers service, which really involves everyone who works in the restaurant, from the hostess to the dishwasher, all of them, will provide good service. This is because the right people have been hired, trained, and continually developed.


True story, I was there: A dismal, chilly afternoon in March. A steady New York rain was pelting the afternoon lunch crowd. The rush for take out and delivery orders was as steady as the falling rain. A customer came in to pick up her order. She was tired and her rain coat dripped to the floor. "We don't have your order," she was told. "We never received it."

Being techno-smart and prepared, she had printed out her fax confirmation of her order. "Well, if you didn't call to confirm, we wouldn't make the order." I tried to call, she said, but the lines were busy. "We'll make the order, but it's going to be a few minutes. You can wait over there."


Now, here's some points about the above happening. If a customer takes the time to order food from a restaurant, fax the order over, or log in to the website and order things that way, then print out the fax or online order confirmation, and THEN walk over in the pouring rain, don't you think she deserves slightly better treatment than this? She should get a medal, a free meal, even a customer of the year award, as far as I am concerned. She cares about her food, she cares about the restaurant, even.

And the person who greeted her should have responded with:

"I am so sorry! We didn't get your order! Let me see your confirmation, ok, great, we'll make it right away. Just give us a couple of minutes." All of that, in a pleasant tone, with a smile, and perhaps a towel for her to dry off, would be the definition of GREAT service.


What I find lacking so many times these days is the lack of understanding and yes, empathy, within the realm of customer service. A pleasant voice on the phone that says, "do you mind holding?" and actually WAITING for an answer, instead of just the typical rushed "hold please-CLICK", and you don't know if you're on hold or if you were disconnected. And when you are standing in line at your favorite restaurant waiting to pick up your food, and it isn't ready yet even though you have been waiting patiently, you want someone who works there, someone who in some way has been responsible for actually getting your food-something you intend to eat and hopefully digest, you want them to in some way show that they care about your food which in turn will translate that they indeed care about you too.


Service, then, can be summed up as empathy, it can and must be understood as a frame of mind. This is what makes good service so hard to teach. Good service is an example of a culture within business (and it's not limited to the restaurant industry), a culture that is defined by leadership. When the powers that be understand that good leadership requires empathy, compassion and understanding, good customer service almost always becomes a result of that culture.


And that today is, but of course, the view from my table.

-The General Manager

there's always a beginning

And it usually begins the moment you walk in to the restaurant. You are greeted (sometimes!) and seated, you get a menu, and then the fun begins. Will your server bring you water and bread? Do you see your server? How long have you been waiting before your server comes over to say hello? How many people do I have to say hello to before I get something to EAT???

It happens all the time. Sometimes without a glitch, and you pay the check, leaving a handsome tip, and all the way home you are thinking, what great food, what great SERVICE! Or...the food was great, the service, well, not so much. Or...the food was ok, the service was GREAT, or, you get it. A myriad of things can happen. That's why I started this thing. I've been increasingly underwhelmed with customer service in restaurants these days. And I should know, because I work in the business. I have managed some great waitstaffs, and I have managed out some terrible waiters. Restaurants these days seem to live and die by the menu. If the food is good, they'll eat it, pay for it, and come back for more. What about the service? Too many operators don't take the time to properly train their staff to provide not just good, but great service. And that's a shame, especially when you go out and spend over $100 not including tax and tip on dinner for two. Dining out shouldn't just be about not having to cook at home. It should be about the total experience, eating good food you wouldn't normally cook at home, and being waited on in an unobtrusive, comfortable atmosphere. I've heard it from my friends and family over the years, and I've heard the same things standing in line waiting for a table at the "hot" restaurant: why do they do this like that? well, there's a free table, why can't we sit down? how come it takes so long to get my food? I only asked for water! Where's my waiter? YES! I have heard almost all of them. Maybe you have one that stumps you. Maybe you have a question on your mind, about your recent visit to a restaurant that made you so angry, OR, you have a comment about getting GREAT service. I want to hear them all. The good, bad and ugly. I'll reply to your comments. I'll give you my objective, professional take on how the restaurant could have better handled things. That's what I want here. That's the view, from my table.