IN THE KITCHEN: Maryland Soft-Shell Crab

If you're a fan of biting through a crispy exterior to discover the succulent, soft, flavorful interior of the Maryland soft-shell blue crab, now is the time to get it (in season April - September).

WHY WE LOVE IT:

A delicacy that requires the appropriate handling and care, our soft-shell crabs are local. Marylanders are in for a treat; Maryland's colder waters and estuaries produce a blue crab that's higher in favorable fat. There are actually only a few species of crab that can be eaten in this form: the soft-shell of a blue crab is reminiscent of the crispy layer wrapped around an egg roll.  Chef prepares it fried in powdered starch with an organic young basil pesto, topped on house-baked bread.

PAYING HOMAGE:

Callinectes sapidus, the scientific name of the soft-shell blue crab, reveals a poetic reverence to this delicacy. Derived from Latin and Greek, calli  means beautiful, nectes - swimmer, and sapidus - savory.

So the next time you're trying to order off the menu, just go ahead and ask for the beautiful, savory, swimmer -- we'll know what you mean.

Bread: My Morning Friend

It's this smell I look forward to most on mornings I arrive at Restaurant Eve. As soon as I pass through the swinging door beside the bar, the smell of freshly baked goods, with a hint of sweetness, like warm cookies, reaches me and I find myself taking a deeper inhale through the nose. 

The first morning I ever walked through that door I was alert once the smell reached me - there always seems to be a few seconds delay - and immediately needed to know where this smell was coming from: Where are the cookies? Is someone baking? Do I get some? Green as I was, I of course asked the first person I saw about the smell and he pointed down to a brown paper bag holding loaves of freshly baked bread, like babies, packed close together for warmth. 

It didn't take long for me to learn that all of the bread for Restaurant Eve, The Majestic, and Eamonn's is baked by the in-house baker at Eve, Nathan Hatfield (Jr.). Chef kindly informed me that Eve offers 7-9 different types of bread daily, 3 for the bistro menu, 3 for the tasting menu, a brioche, a special bread for cheese platters, even crackers for soups. It all makes sense to me now: bread, the perfect compliment to any dish, the sponge for sauces, dips, or anything left over that just can't be left alone on the plate. 

Now this smell is my morning coffee, getting me ready for the day. But, not long after I discovered this olfactory stimulant, I learned that once the new market, Society Fair opens, the baking for all the restaurants will be done there, where the freshly baked bread will also be sold. I'll savor the smell while I can. Then, I can buy loaves to stash in my kitchen and write more about not only the smell, but also the taste.

Back of the House: Quit Fronting

An Insider's Guide to Navigating the Fine Dining Restaurant World
by Meshelle Armstrong

“There are definite procedures to ensure a positive dining / restaurant experience. It all
begins with this idea: Prepare for good dining karma.”
- Restaurant Eve Service Manual

~
How to Give (and Get) ‘Good Phone’ • Part II

“. . .Brrriiiiinggg . . .”

“Good evening, thank you for calling Restaurant Eve. How may I help you?”

“Yes, I need a reservation for this Saturday night for a party of four.”

“Oh, my apologies sir, we are fully committed this Saturday, may I check another date for you.”

“Um, well, perhaps you should check again. This is Mr. Ralph, I am a good friend of Chef KethelArmstrong and my dinner companion is a notable blogger from Boston.”

The die was cast.

There are a few unwritten rules when it comes to acquiring a hard-to-get reservation.

Remember back when I said you might not always like what you hear?

Depending on your reservation habits, this might be that time.

An entire section of DON’Ts could easily come across as negative or snarky, especially since the hospitality industry is basically designed to be, well, hospitable.

You don’t go to a fine dining restaurant to have the waiters tell you how you should use your utensils or listen to the chef tell you how you should eat your food … So who am I to tell you what you shouldn’t do when you try to make a reservation?

Read on.

My day is far more pleasant when it’s spent assisting nice people who trust that I’m going to do my best to make their dining wishes happen. But sometimes it’s waaay easier to deal with a jackass.

Doling out the bad-news-blow to someone who took five minutes of my life away dispensing bombastic “But don’t you know who I am?!” drivel is on the spot fun. (“Oh, I do have one at 7:30 p.m. … oh no. I’m so sorry, I was mistaken, the 9 looked like a 7.”)

Especially, when Mr. “Jacques Haas” even had the nerve to swear a bit.

Now, it still troubles me when I can’t find a table for the genuine sort: new parents trying to squeeze in their anniversary dinner or that anxious but charming gentleman trying to plan his honey’s birthday. I know it sucks, been there.

Most of you—and I do mean most (somewhere in the 95 percent area)—will find the following what notto do instructions laughable. You’ll probably even have a “Nah-uh, people do that?!?” moment.

The other 5 percent—well, you know who you are.

DON’T lie.

Never, ever, ever.

Some people are so desperate in their quest to get a table that they tell loopy whoppers. I can’t tell you how many calls I get from “close, personal friends” of my husband, Cathal, who don’t know how to pronounce his first name. His name is Cathal (silent ‘t’) not Cathay, (he’s not a woman) Carl (“but isn’t that the American version?”), or my favorite, Chatall (which puts me in stitches because it somehow reminds me of the fabulous movie, The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert, whose plot is based on the journey of three drag queens).

Or, the most hilare is when they are “close, personal friends” of mine and they are talking . . . to me. Caught in the BS! But of course, I then have to pretend not to be me:

“Oh, I’m sure she would have been so upset to have missed you, but unfortunately 9:30 p.m. is still the only availability .”

And, here’s a good one: Saturday night tables filled with guests eating, chatting, proposing—you know, the usual—patrons spilling out of the bar, waiting for their reservations, and me at the desk (when it was my gig) chatting with guests and sending my hosts to far corners of the dining rooms for the in-house status reports.

Two gentlemen present themselves for a 7:30 p.m. reservation in the Tasting Room. Immediately I tune out all the chatter from the bar and dining rooms and focus all of my attention on the gentlemen and the booked-solid floor plan in front of me.

Something has gone very, very wrong.

We never ever have a Saturday 7:30 p.m. reservation for two in the Tasting Room (It just doesn’t work out—the table can never have a second seating, so it’s reserved for four).

Panic sets in when I cannot find a record of them or their reservation anywhere in the computer or in the “Black Book” (the actual book of written floor plans and timing—we have a double-entry system, sort of as a backup; it’s easy to spot errors this way).

Anyway, in these situations I always give guests the benefit of the doubt. I know that mistakes and miscommunications happen, and wherever the fault lies, it’s my job to make it right. I begin to explain the situation and invite the gentlemen to relax with a cocktail while I sort everything out.

Internally, my brain is in hyper drive: think, think, who’s on dessert? Who looks fine drinking at the bar and can I give their table to the two standing in front of me?

But I am cut off when the “gentlemen” in question proceed to throw down the Veruca Salt tantrum.

To drown out my apologies and offers of a solution, the “gentlemen” get louder. Guests in the bar start to notice that there is drama brewing, (you know how everyone loves drama) so soon we have an audience—dinner and a show, everybody!

The “gentlemen” notice the on-lookers and begin to really lay it on, dropping details about Restaurant Eve’s unprofessionalism and how they should have gone to the “other restaurant.”

Then they strike:

“Listen, we made this reservation last week with a young man who seemed pre-tee flaky over the phone. Maybe you should train your staff better, because this is just ridiculous.”

My insides begin to churn and my sympathy, gone.

Big fibbers.

We didn’t have a single male host at Restaurant Eve (at the time), and the servers are not permitted to answer the phones, so I know flaky reservations boy is either totally invented or employed at another restaurant, probably annoyed that his 7:30 p.m. two-top is late. But my gut serves me well, as when I inform them (in the slowest speech I can manage to really draw it out) that a 7:30 p.m. never existed and all hosts are female, they quieted down real quick (still a show, remember) and slinked off into the night, one whispering to the other, “See, now where do we go?”

The moral of this story: “Big fat liars, tried to embarrass us into giving them a table.” So don’t lie.

DON’T book a reservation you KNOW you can’t make

Here’s a tip for all of you spontaneous types: if you can be flexible, it’s worth calling on the day you’d like to dine. Generally restaurants call to confirm reservations at least a day in advance. On Thursday mornings I know we’ll have a few cancellations for the weekend, and if we can’t reach anyone on the wait-list we open those tables up for new callers.

I can’t guarantee that you’ll be able to hitch one of those last-minute tables, but I do know I can count on those cancellations. It seems like one of the laws of the universe. Those cancellation calls even all sound the same, like the guests and I are reading from the same script:

“Hello Dr. Ralph, this is Restaurant Eve calling to confirm your 6 p.m. reservation for two this Saturday.”

“Oh, hello. Anything open up at, like 7:30 p.m.?”

“I’m very sorry, sir, but we are still fully committed at that time.”

“Then I’m just going to have to cancel.”—Click.

This is why reservations are so hard to get. Every time you book a reservation you have no intention of keeping, someone else can’t get a table. You know in your heart when you are resentfully making your“ugh, who eats at that hour” reservation, you aren’t going to keep it.

Go on, let it go. Leave it for someone who will.

DON’T name-drop yourself

This isn’t lying so much as overstating. Dropping a title without explanation as you try to imply that you are someone the host should know makes all of us roll the eyes to heaven.

When you start your conversation with, “This is Dr. Ralph and I need a table for four,” or “Congressman X wants a table on the 3rd,” the host starts racing through her mental Rolodex:

“Dr. Ralph? Is that Chef’s doctor? No… one of his cousins? Guy on T.V show? Crap!”

As you carry on a seemingly normal conversation, she starts furiously looking up guest records—“Dr. Ralph, Dr. Ralph, which Dr. Ralph? Fred? Thomas?”—until she realizes that the reason she doesn’t recognize your name is because this will be your first visit to the restaurant.

Hosts hate this because it makes them feel like you think they won’t do their jobs unless you’re a VIP. Or even worse, that you are trying to trick them by making yourself sound highfalutin.

There is no need to lean on your title.

Gucci, Pucci, Hoochie. As long as we have the table, you like to eat (and can pay), it’s all good.

To us, everyone is a VIP. Until proven otherwise.

Like in my daughter, Eve’s, class: everyone starts with an A. It’s what you do that can lose it.

So avoid earning yourself that un-VIP-able status. (Refer to the first DO in part one of this column.) It’s our job to make you feel special, to make you feel cared for. We will try every bit as hard to fit in a straightforward ‘Miss, or Mr.’ as we will a General.

And my personal bête noir: If you mention that you’re a frequent Yelp-er or Chowhound-er as a scare tactic to acquire a reservation or to gain special treatment you should be officially forced to carry the scarlet fork. It not only makes you sound like a real git but you give a bad name to some of the really good, committed to food and dining blogs out there, who call for reservations like everyone else. During dinner as we engage you, who you are and what food scene jazzes you will naturally emerge. And we’ll be thrilled that you’ve chosen us.

In the viral age, many have the “I eat – therefore I review” mentality, unfortunately the power of the slapdash keystroke has gone to some of their heads:

“It’s reeeally too bad you don’t have anything this Saturday—I was planning on reviewing you. Have you heard of fudiefan.com?”

Seriously, if this is your behavior on the phone, imagine what we have to fear when you actually arrive.

I’d rather give the table to the person who won’t write about us, and take my chances with the good ol’ word of mouth critique. I can’t speak for others but strong-arming me with a “are you sure you want to say ‘no’ to me” tactic won’t work.

To us, everyone is a critic.

——————————————————————————————————

So there they are, a few unwritten reservation rules, written.

Whether or not you get that one available table is up to you.

But I promise you, if you mind the “don’ts” and practice the “do’s”, you will notice a significant upgrade in your reservation karma, and your personal ‘guests notes’ (notes given to you based on your history) will be flagged by hosts everywhere to read:

“(Insert your name) . . . a first-class diner.”

–Meshelle Armstrong, co-owner Restaurant Eve, Eamonn’s a Dublin Chipper, PX, The Majestic, Virtue Feed & Grain, Society Fair. *Thoughtfully guided by her darling and faithful ex-reservations manager, Kate Ahner*

____________________________________________________________

Original article published in Northern Virginia Magazine

Back of the House: Call Me

An Insider's Guide to Navigating the Fine Dining Restaurant World
By Meshelle Armstrong

“There are definite procedures to ensure a positive dining/restaurant experience. It all begins with this idea: Prepare for good dining karma.”

- Restaurant Eve Service Manual

How to Give (and Get) Good Phone – Part I

People love to ask me questions about our restaurants:

* How does your husband make such and such?

* Where did you find those lights?

* Do you think I could work in the kitchen for a day?

However, the one I am asked most often still catches me off guard:”What are the chances of getting a table at your place this weekend?!?”

And I’m thinking to myself, “Eeeks, not so good.” And I’m telling myself, “Make something up, quick, then run away and hide.” All the while smiling cheerfully, as I’ve trained myself to do.

After the internal panicking and outward smiling I make a joke out of it, like, “Even I can’t get a table.”

I have to let them down easy—They want to give me money, right!?—so I gently advise them that the best way to get in is to call. The hosts are pros and if you are a teeny bit flexible, if there is any possible way, they will find you a table. I then shoot them a heads up with a, “Pretty please can you do your best to find these nice people a table?”

Which is a bit silly, because they would do that without any word from me.

Or, I could (as I’ve seen nearly every fledgling restaurateur do) call my restaurant and bully the host staff to make the non-existent reservation for Monsieur “I Didn’t Plan.” In my very early days as a host I often suffered the chaos that came from an owner’s swift “make it happen” demand, so you’d think that once I became an owner I’d have learned my lesson.

But no.

The first time I required my hosts to make the impossible happen, I realized that some things are called “impossible” for a reason. The on the spot scrambling caused tension with the managers and upheaval in the ranks of the wait staff in what would have otherwise been orderly service.

Square peg, meet round hole—there was NO table to be given.

The kitchen was pushing out courses, and the floor captains were practically pulling plates from under people. Didn’t work. And all we accomplished was to make the hurry-‘em-up-so-we-can-make-the-turn table real cranky. And the pair I was trying to impress drove all the way to the restaurant only to find no room at the inn. They were kind, and no one said it but they, my hosts and, at that point, myself were all thinking: Idiot. No doubt the wait staff had a slightly different word pursed on their lips.

A host at the newest, gotta-get-in-there hot spot is one of the most powerful people of the moment. But, as we all learned from Spider-Man, with great power comes great responsibility. Hosts speak with hundreds of people a day, helping would-be patrons make reservations for everything from business pitches to proposals. Everybody has a story; everybody’s reservation is important. But good hosts understand that you are trying to make this one, and only one, reservation, and get that the stakes can be pretty high.

Hate the reservation game? If you didn’t, Open Table wouldn’t be as rich as they are.

Sometimes the reservations process can seem so annoying to people (who just want to be able to eat without having to hash out their life story, after all) that it sours the whole experience before they’ve even arrived. When I sense guests getting frustrated with all the fiddly but necessary details of making a reservation—“Would you like the Bistro, or the Tasting Room? Are you celebrating a special occasion? Blah, blah, blah?”—I want to reassure them that I’m here to help and not to annoy.

So let’s all take a deep breath, picture ourselves in our happy-Zen place and repeat together:

“Oohmm, Hosts are here to help and not hurt you. Oohmm, Hosts are here to help and not hurt you.”

Are hosts a restaurant’s gatekeepers? Yes.

They’re the ones who tell you, “I’m sorry, but the only available tables available are at 5:30 pm or 10:15 pm.” They can also be advisors and powerful advocates. Hosts must be diplomats, strategists, traffic controllers and jugglers, and a good one is worth his/her weight in Open Table points. I don’t mean to make it sound like hosts have the roughest job in a restaurant. All restaurant jobs are special snowflakes in terms of difficulty. But hosts get my special attention because this is where our relationship begins. The initial interaction between host and guest is like a courtship—our first chance to make you fall in love with us.

Getting a prime time reservation on a weekend is a challenge. Whether or not you get that one available table for two at 7:30 pm is up to you. Setting out on Thursday to book a “hot table” for Saturday night already puts you behind the eight ball, but if you are determined to continue I’ll start with the best insider tip I can give you when calling for a reservation…

DO be polite

Shocker!?

I’m sure some of you are rolling your eyes. But a surprising number of restaurant goers don’t seem to realize how important this is. Copping an attitude when a host doesn’t give you what you want isn’t just rude, it’s also totally ineffective. No matter how mad or how mean someone is, a seasoned host has just had to “talk down” someone even madder or meaner. So rudeness won’t make a table magically appear, and it certainly won’t make the host go out of her way to help you.

I know how frustrating it is when you can’t secure the reservation you counted on. Maybe you already bought theater tickets or booked the babysitter but neglected to make the reservation. There is a saying that my husband often repeats to any staff member unfortunate enough to complain to him about being unprepared:

- Host (still stuffing menus at 5:28 for 5:30 reservations): “But Chef, we’re not ready!”

- Chef: “A lack of planning on your part doesn’t constitute an emergency on mine.”

Rough, but true.

So if you find yourself in that “I didn’t make my reservation early enough” position, you want to be sure that you are that person who makes the host want to work harder to make things happen for you. So be real nice and…

DO know when to call

While a host’s job is to, well, be a host, try to resist calling during the “rush” of dinner service (usually 6:30 pm to 8:30 pm). You might not know it because the host is nice as pie, but when you call during the dinner rush all she really wants is to get you off the phone so she can greet the people standing at the host desk, glaring at her.

If you’ve been on the receiving end of the outstretched “just a minute” finger, you know how frustrating it is to be ignored in favor of a phone call while you are standing right there. Your host has to choose between letting you (because you called during the rush) languish on hold, or ignoring her guests while yet another caller (who also called during the rush) asks her to check next Saturday (which, oops, simply won’t work for Charlie) and the next (which doesn’t work for Lucy), or making all of her callers wait while she attends to her guests.

I get it: you want to call when it suits you. You are the customer.

But think about it: your host, even multiple hosts, may not have the time to give you the focused attention you might need to score that important reservation while she is managing a complex dinner seating filled with anniversaries, birthdays, food allergies, couples waiting at the bar, flowers for table 41…. Chances are you may hear, “I’m sorry, but there is nothing available,” when maybe, if she had enough time to concentrate, she could figure something out for you. But in the middle of the dinner rush, there simply isn’t time for a proper, creative “table juggle.”

I’m just sayin’.

Me, I call in the morning (9:30 am to 11 am, before lunch). Or between lunch and dinner (2:30 pm to 5 pm). Or at 9 pm after the late reservations have been seated.

But not during the rush.

And never, ever on a Friday or Saturday night. That’s just like sticking a fork in the host’s eye—especially since they expect an industry person to know better.

DO have alternate dates or times in mind

Even if you have timed reservation availability down to the minute, sometimes someone else will beat you to that prime table. Competition is fierce: Never underestimate your competition for those prime spots. It’s best to at least have a couple alternate dates or times that will work for you and your party or you’ll just end up playing the “try this date” game with the host, and those are 10 minutes you will never get back. Enough said.

DO ask to be placed on the wait-list

This is not a fictitious list that we pretend to add you to. We use it, and use it often. People do cancel on the morning of their reservations, and when that happens the first thing hosts do is go to the wait-list. We call the first numbers and work our way down.

So when a host asks for a number, leave one where she can actually reach you.

Don’t give an office number if you will not be there. Sure, she can leave a message after the tone but by the time you receive it, the table may, sadly, be gone. A mobile number, now that says: I want that table.

DO let us keep things fair

Most restaurants have very specific policies about how far in advance they open their books. It’s different for every restaurant; Restaurant Eve has a two month window. That means if it’s a reservation for June 1st you want, it will become available April 1st.

So kindly don’t fuss or pull the “Oh come on, it’s only a couple days away” guilt-trip. Kindly call back. This is how we keep the rezo playing field fair.

And without orderly rules, you know what happens: “Oh, and I can’t take your reservations for Valentine’s Day 2014…”

Nothing personal, but things happen, plans changes, and unfortunately you could even break up. (Some couples don’t even make it through our standard two months.)

DO mention special circumstances

* “I know I’m being kind of picky, but I have to get a babysitter for my newborn and we live an hour’s drive away. I wish we could be more flexible, since we really want a table!”

* “My husband and I celebrated our first anniversary there and we’d very much like to come for our second. Please call us if you have anything open up. Really anything, we’d love to return.”

* “My son’s graduation ceremony isn’t over until 5:30 pm, and our daughter is only nine so she can’t make it much past 10 pm. I know it’s a stretch, but do you have anything for four between 6:30 pm and 8:30 pm?”

Now I’m your rah-rah girl. Now I am rooting for a table to open up for you.

Knowing that prime reservations are tough and revealing the real reason you can’t be more flexible with dining times will go a long way to getting a harried host to fight for you.

It shows that you “get it,” and that you trust that she is doing her best to help you. Your graciousness will make her that much more likely to go the extra mile for you.

As harsh as it sounds, remember that everyone has a birthday and eeeevery one wants to eat at 7:30 pm. And keep in mind, none of these strategies will work if you lie, act demanding or entitled.

So please: always mind that first DO.

If you practice these recommendations, chances are you will see a marked improvement in the reservations aspect of your dining karma.

–Meshelle Armstrong, co-owner Restaurant Eve, Eamonn’s a Dublin Chipper, PX, The Majestic, Virtue Feed & Grain, Society Fair. *Thoughtfully guided by her darling and faithful ex-reservations manager, Kate Ahner*

_____________________________________________________

Original article published in Northern Virginia Magazine

Back of the House: An Introduction

An Insider's Guide to Navigating the Fine Dining World
by Meshelle Armstrong

“There are definite procedures to ensure a positive dining/restaurant experience. It all begins with this idea: Prepare for good dining karma.”

- Restaurant Eve Service Manual

Working the host desk on any given evening, I can immediately tell which of my guests will have the best time and which will not before they have even been seated. Working in restaurants for more than 20 years has given me an advantage here. But anyone who has been set up on a bad blind date can see the tell-tale signs of an experience about to go badly.

When a couple’s body language responds to my reception of, “Good evening and welcome. May I have the name of the reservation please?” as if I’m interrogating them or doubt my sincerity, I know that changing their tune will be an uphill struggle. The guests who will love everything and rave the loudest are easy to spot as well. When I welcome them with the same greeting as the previous couple, their response is completely different. Their agreeable ‘ready to go with your flow’ pheromones hit me; I sense their excitement and willing anticipation. It is infectious. The entire staff gets swept up by their eagerness, and even the couple arguing in the dining room softens slightly. These are the guests we live for, the ones who appreciate the whole experience, the ones who come to us prepared, ready to be delighted and won’t be swayed from their intention. Even if a chandelier were to fall on their table, they absolutely would still have a good time. If you are one of these people, know this: you make everything we do worth it. Keep on keeping on and the dining gods will smile on you from restaurant to restaurant.

My main goal is to make all of my guests as happy as these bon vivants, and I really believe the onus is on the restaurant to please you. But try as I might to get everyone from a #6—our restaurant group’s in-house code for guests who arrived unhappy—to a #1 (the happiest of guests) I can only control what goes on in the walls of my restaurant and not the attitude that you bring with you.

I can’t tell you how many times (and it still amazes me) guests arrive at a fine dining restaurant and have no idea where they are. I don’t mean that they don’t know where they are, physically. I mean that they have not done their research. Or, even worse, one or all of them arrives in a bad mood. Double whiplash if the evil forces converge. Chances are these guests, be they a couple celebrating a milestone birthday, or budding socialites, or highbrow wheelers, will soon be penning those 2:00 am letters, rife with their discontent, or, even worse, drunk-blogging on unmoderated message boards.

“What?!” you say. “Cheeky!” Or maybe: “Research!? Why is that necessary? I shouldn’t have to do homework to enjoy the dinner I’m paying for.”

But you would be wrong.

Everyone arrives at a restaurant with expectations. But unless you know what to expect, your evening will probably turn out very differently than planned. Dashed expectations make for a disappointing experience. You’ll be left wondering what all the hype is about and, more importantly, why everyone else seems to be having such a good time.

My intention is not to diss my own very valued customers or mockingly expose the dining challenged. Restaurants, and the people who work there, want to make you happy. It is also our job to set you at ease and make you feel like we are welcoming you into our home. All right, you may be paying to visit our “home,” but we still want you to be comfortable, relaxed and ready to receive the food, wine and the sequences of service we have earnestly prepared just to impress you.

Whether you realize it or not—and many of you don’t—when you consent to the host’s nod as she leads you to your table, you have just accepted your role in an elaborate choreography that not only includes you and us, but everyone else who is dining in the restaurant.

In a perfect evening all of this is invisible and happens without you realizing it. But once someone misses a step, it throws everyone off. This awareness piece, per se, is my way of reaching out to you and being your host even when I can’t be with you at the restaurant.

I wish to share with you the inner workings of the fine dining world to help you navigate your place in the script so this won’t be said about you: “They just don’t get it.”

Now, if you don’t mind playing that unfortunate role or being on the receiving end of that line then okay, may bliss be with you. However, I’ve been thinking of all the dining issues that often take place through the course of the meal—issues that could have been avoided because you planned for good dining. So consider this your own “how-to,” an insiders’ guide to *enlightened dining though improved restaurant karma (© Eat Good Food Group).

I must confess that at times you may not like what you read, nor agree with me.

But here’s hoping we can keep you from starring in your own “that sucked” restaurant story. And I can hopefully keep your fingers from finding their way to those unmoderated restaurant review boards.

I have my own selfish reasons for being so helpful, of course: if I can help you understand how it all really works, ultimately it will make my job much easier. But there is an even greater benefit to you.

By better understanding how restaurants work, you can better learn to enjoy them.

You can start banking restaurant karma before the reservation. Before making that call or launching that Open Table app, just a little bit of research on your part can save you much annoyance and discomfort. So don’t think of it as homework. It’s a five-minute investment to ensure your experience will be the one you intended to pay for—your happiness and debit cards will be in harmony.

Know Who Is Feeding You

Chef’s cooking styles differ. Some are driven by very distinct inspirations. If the tags, “hydrochilled,” “gastro-anything,” or “foodie-trend,” are the buzz words that describe where you want to be, then it’s best to not to dine with us—at least not this time.

Nope, not our style. But if you didn’t know that, unfortunately you’ll spend the whole evening wondering when the kitchen is going to start their side of the theatre by having a waiter spray some dehydrated food “mist” into the air or pop a “side of crazy” into your mouth. And when it doesn’t happen, there it is: dashed expectation. You expected something different, we didn’t deliver. Not because we didn’t want to, or that we lack ability. It’s simply not our thing. The cooking style of our particular kitchen is ingredient driven, not contrivance based. Gizmos are fun and do have their place. Don’t get me wrong, I like eating bacon suspended from a wire as much as the next “show-me-something-new-so I-can-tweet it-first” diner. But even if the world’s best pork belly—fed only on acorns, massaged by the Queen of England, cooked expertly—were served by the most gracious and attentive waiter on a plate, instead of the high wire act, you would be deflated.

And that translates to a letter, or worse an anonymous online review: “I wasn’t that impressed with the menu.”

And now the team of chefs are grossly offended, the hosts flag a not-so-good profile about you, the managers reprimand the wait staff, the owner begrudgingly writes a response letter, and everyone complains to fellow industry mates about the people who “just don’t get it.”

No one wins.

Except for that everyone-loves-them couple—remember them?—who did their research.

Plan To Dine, Not Just Eat

This, too, might seem like a “huh?” statement, but I promise you it is not. For example, dinner for two in Restaurant Eve’s Tasting Room takes at least three hours. It’s a multi-course menu; the pace is intended to be leisurely. Even if you aren’t indulging in a tasting menu and plan to order a la carte, it is always worth asking the reservationist how much time you should plan to allow. Otherwise you just might miss out on a signature yum-yum that takes 20 minutes to make.

Sadly, I’ve seen too many celebrations cut short, guests trying to rush through their courses because the babysitter has to leave by 9:00 p.m.. No matter how special the occasion or how delicious the food, it is almost impossible to relax and enjoy your dinner if you are dining under a deadline.

All that relaxing during dinner feels like it is just taking forever if a later commitment is on your mind. You begin to glare at the couple next to you as they happily chat up the sommelier about their first trip to Bordeaux, and perhaps they should have him select a grand cru from the region because that’s where they got engaged. The sommelier is happy to oblige and share his knowledge of the terroir because, of course, this is his thing. He recently left your table to allow you time to peruse the wine list, because of course you couldn’t possibly be ready. The wait staff are all smiles as they approach you with the glorious amuse course, Hamachi flown in from so-and-so, and all you are thinking is: “What!? We’re not even on the first course!?”

And that translates to a letter, or worse an anonymous online review: “Service took too long.”

And now the team of waiters are grossly offended, the hosts flag a not so good profile about you, the managers reprimand the kitchen, the owner begrudgingly writes a response letter and everyone complains to fellow industry mates about the couple who, “ Just don’t get it.”

No one wins.

Except for … um, that couple who did the research.

Parking Matters

In an ideal world every restaurant would have valet service or a garage next door, and some restaurants do.

Find out.

Because spending 20 minutes searching for street parking, circling and circling, realizing you are going to get a ticket because you don’t even have any quarters, then hobbling over cobblestones in your fancy shoes after you’ve parked in Siberia, can get any evening off to a bad start.

Now you are agitated. You were already running behind to meet your date, who’s now been waiting a total of 30 minutes, and your heels are scuffed from being caught on the cobblestones. (Which, by the way, a guest once complained was our fault.)

The restaurant, too, is in a bit of a predicament. The timing delay has now caused a significant hiccup in the designated seating choreography—the diners who are to occupy the table after you need a table ready when they arrive on time. The host begins the shuffle dance, so it will be yet another few minutes until you are finally seated.

And that translates to a letter, or worse an anonymous online review: “I didn’t have to run around like a maniac, get a ticket and ruin my shoes, because my table wasn’t even ready.”

And now the team of hosts … Well, you know what happens next.

Any one of these scenarios could serve as strike one against the restaurant. And through the course of dinner, as I’ve seen happen again and again, you are subconsciously preparing yourself to find strike two.

It’s human nature. Being a dinner myself, I’ve done it, too.

These are some of the consequences when you neglect your restaurant karma.

No one wins.

Except for that over the moon, everyone loves them couple who are savoring the perfect oysters, onions and osetra they looked forward to all week, knowing it was a house specialty, not worrying about their ticketless car parked in the nearby garage, laughing with the sommelier and toasting each other with champagne since the babysitter isn’t expecting them until they decide it’s time to go home.

Their perfect evening didn’t just happen. It was a direct result of being prepared and having an attitude that creates good karma.

The day I realized this, all my dining experiences changed for the better. And yours can too.


–Meshelle Armstrong, co-owner Restaurant Eve, Eamonn’s a Dublin Chipper, PX, The Majestic, Virtue Feed & Grain, Society Fair. *Edited for truth and consistency by Kate Ahner, my old reservations manager
_____________________________________________________________
Original article published in Northern Virginia Magazine