|
Wednesday, October 30, 2002
An article in today's Trib* gives voice to a prevalent plea from those in the industry, namely, "Tell us what we're doing wrong!" Apparently criticisms of crappy restaurants share the same distinction as those of crappy boyfriends -- no acquaitance will tell it to your face until you've broken it off. And getting forthright answers from your clientele seems to be no easier. From the article:
Kharasch encourages his restaurants to hand out cards with a self-addressed stamped envelope -- otherwise, negative comments may get tossed out by servers before they go to managers, or by managers before they go to owners.
That brings to mind an earlier idea we had about combining the comment card and coupon concepts into one package. The idea was to facilitate word-of-mouth with the fringe benefit of customer feedback. But it also solves the problem mentioned above, since no coupon could be redeemed unless the corresponding feedback got logged into the system.
I admit that I'm prone to finding the task of filling out a comment card more trouble than it's worth. An easier channel of feedback, for me, is to give my compliments -- or my beef -- to whomever asks me to my face. I'm fond of restaurants where the manager puts himself out in the open, greeting and schmoozing with customers, keeping open a steady stream of feedback, both good and bad. We should do the same at our place.
*(login: fuck_registration; password: gocubs)
posted by Sandor Weisz at 8:33 PM | Comment?
Wednesday, October 23, 2002
Eight months after I lamented the absence of cheap house wine in America, the Tribune has a story discussing the same void. The writer says that over the past few decades travel abroad has snootified Americans' palates, thus our abandonment of restaurants' generic house wines.
My experience is just the opposite, as it was my European travels that showed me how good bad wine could be. Take retsina, please. Epicurious and others call it "sappy [and] turpentinelike." But if it's enjoyed with friends or family, I'd choose a carafe of it over a glass of the finest champagne.
posted by Luke at 3:42 PM | 5 comments
Wednesday, October 16, 2002
Sandy has noted his opposition to robotic waiters, but there's plenty of other technologies we can deploy. This Tribune story suggests that wireless hand-helds, as we have proposed for our place, cause more problems than they fix, but some restaurants have had success with UltraClenz, a device that does everything short of putting bus boys in stocks to ensure they wash their hands. Then this review of "The Fourth Star," an inside look at New York's chic Daniel, says management uses 16 hidden cameras to monitor diners and allow "chefs to control and observe every aspect of the dining experience." Spooky. Usually the only time hidden cameras are part of my dining experience is when I stop at the liquor store to get some cheap wine for one of Chicago's fine BYO establishments.
posted by Luke at 7:40 AM | 1 comment
Tuesday, October 15, 2002
Dad forwards us a link to this story about Andre Soltner, the 70-year-old legend, formerly of New York's Lutece. "When the restaurant was open, I was behind the stove," said Soltner. "In 34 years, I took four days off, two when my father died and two when my brother died."
Every day he had to get up at six and work past midnight. Lutece was closed Sundays, and in the winter Soltner would drive 120 miles to go skiing, then drive back to New York for a little sleep before going back to work Monday morning.
posted by Luke at 6:42 AM | Comment?
Monday, October 07, 2002
At Levi and Stacey's chili dinner last week, the chili featured peppers recently harvested from their back-porch garden. It was heavenly. Just as there's no greater comfort than that of a homemade quilt, meals made with homegrown food always taste better. I've noted how cool it would be to supply our own garlic or herbs. Now a Chowhound reports that a Chicago restaurant does exactly that, and he has pictures to prove it. Sounds like a field trip is in order.
The Chowhound also has pictures of Yum Thai's "secret menu," written in Thai with no translation. Calvin Trillin writes a lot about trying to divine meaning from the Chinese-only menus in New York, Chinese being to 1974 New York what Thai is to 2002 Chicago (and what Turkish, mark my words, will be to 2004 everywhere else). It reminds me of our trip to Uncle George's in New York and how impressed I was at the Greek-only menu. Maybe we could have an Esperanto-only menu? Pig Latin?
posted by Luke at 2:52 PM | 4 comments
Friday, October 04, 2002
Wednesday night at Rose Angelis, our waiter's delivery had a very strange cadence to it. Not the delivery of the food -- that was just fine, on time, hot, and complete with plate-on-arm balancing -- but his delivery of the night's specials. As he would finish describing an item, his voice would drop in pitch and trail off, auditory code that he was finished with his part of the conversation. He'd stare at us for a second, silent, and a moment before I'd say, "Thanks, we'll think about it," he'd start up again with another special. Every. single. time. It was bizarre. It was, as Sarah noted, like he was one of those interactive video kiosks. Press here to hear our appetizer special. Press here to hear our fish of the day. Except he was pressing them all, on his own, one after another.
We've talked extensively about important qualities for our waiters. I didn't think it'd be necessary, but here's another one: Don't talk like a freakin' robot. Be human. Recite the specials like they're juicy pieces of gossip you can't wait to tell your new friends at the table. Waiters are meant to personalize the dining experience, and we should only hire the ones that fully understand this.
posted by Sandor Weisz at 9:36 PM | 2 comments
Tuesday, October 01, 2002
There's a great narrative in this week's Reader, told by Fern Taylor Bogot, who happens to be a Inspiration Cafe volunteer. Bogot is describing a photograph taken at a 2000 Passover meal:
The person who is eating on the left, her name is Ina. She's a chef who has an incredibly positive reputation in Chicago. In a few months Ina is opening a new restaurant, and I'm going to help her. We'll feed many people and make them very happy ...
Our restaurant will be called Ina's. It'll be Ina's recipes, Ina's menu. We'll have somebody in the kitchen creating that stuff, and we'll both be in front, welcoming people and schmoozing. But I'll also be in the back working with the community: whether that means the governmental community -- 'cause Ina's got friends in high places -- or whether it means the unions, because they're in the neighborhood, or the housing projects, 'cause they're in the neighborhood, too, or the new loft people or the wholesalers or the truck drivers or the corrugated box plants or the police station. All those people are different communities, and they'll all be eating with us.
When I used to go to Sterch's on Lincoln Avenue, I was always in awe of Bob Smerch -- that people would come into this bar and pay money just to be in his presence. I like the idea that people will pay money to be in my presence. I don't have the energy to have a garden party or a dinner party every week. But having a restaurant, having someone in the kitchen who can create French toast for Table Three because I suggested it to them, that will be wonderful. Make people happy, work with the community: Sounds a lot like our philosophy.
Speaking of good reading, I just started Calvin Trillin's excellent "Tummy Trilogy." If Trillin hasn't been acknowledged as the patron saint of all things Chowhound, he ought to be. After spending so much time reading the Chicago Chowhound board, reading Trillin feels like discovering a great river's secret headwaters. It's amusing to read his marvel at a computer wonk, circa 1974, who has created a database of 400 -- 400! -- New York restaurants. (He concludes that the database is a complete failure. "There was no provision for schmaltz. Nothing was said about French fries ...I decided to give the machine at least one try. 'Tell the thing to type out the name of a three-star French restaurant with moderate prices and a headwaiter who believes that accepting tips is unethical,' I said. Lamport said the computer was not programmd to do that.")
In one chapter he talks about restaurateurs he's known. His father had a place ("Mainly as an outlet for his poetry.") and now his cousin Nardy has one ("He uses it as an excuse to publish a newsletter about the customers."). Trillin talks about the dreamers who, like his relatives, think they're cut out for the business:
An amazing number of people ... want to open a restaurant. They know a couple of remarkable recipes and they like to meet people and it all seems so easy that the failure rate for new restaurants is 65 percent the first year.
On Sunday evenings in [Fats] Goldberg's Pizzeria, a lot of people talk to Fats about their ideas for starting a restaurant ... "People have a funny idea about what owning a restaurant is like," Fats says. "Their idea of running a restaurant is naming it after themselves and then coming in to buy a round of drinks before they go to the theater." The note about Trillin's father reminds me of our ideas for a daily menu. In his case, it was a new couplet every day, something along the lines of "Mrs. Trillin's pecan pie, so nutritious and delicious/ Will make a wild man mild and a mild man vicious."
Could we write a poem every day?
Of course we could - ay!
If we name our place Infinite Jest (my current favorite nomen-nominee) we could do a daily limerick:
We're two men of infinite jest
We haven't a minute of rest
Our place makes us busy
But the food makes you dizzy
It's unparalleled in its zest
posted by Luke at 9:44 AM | Comment?
[ HOME ] [ ARCHIVES ] [ ABOUT ] [ CONTACT ] [ DONATE ]
|
|
«
chicago blogs
»
|
