Fun with Lunch-Time Conniption Fits

Find a line cook that likes a slow day and I'll show you a liar. Sometimes. When your day is filled with buffalo chicken moments, the occasional slow day is just what the doctor ordered and that is exactly what I have experienced this week. Our cafe is driven by two influences: weather and Prince's early work before he changed his name. Okay, maybe I'm exaggerating the influence of Prince. Remains to be seen. But when it rains like today and Tuesday, the cafe gets quiet. So this has been a thankfully peaceful week. And what better time than one characterized by calm than to recall one of my most outrageous customer blow-ups?

You may remember, dear readers, that display plates often find themselves at the center of gastronomical gaffes. I sometimes feel like the plate police, trying in vain to protect the food from theft or the aesthetics from ruin. I thought about getting a badge and a whistle.

During the winter slow period, a middle-aged man came to the cafe with his young son who was big enough to talk but small enough to sit comfortably on his father's shoulders. And this young boy was clearly daring, interested in exploring food not listed on the children's menu. Kudos to the lad and his father for encouraging adventurous eating. But the pressure of satisfying the child's appetites must must have been too much and I was the unwitting fool that provoked the father's wrath.

The cafe was empty one hour into our shortened lunch service. After surveying the menus, the father reached for the display plate and removed it from the folded soup cup lid that kept it at an angle. My first thought: Damn it! Another display plate caper! We can't keep losing these things! I did my best Carl Lewis impression, bounding over to the plate and firmly requested "Sir, please put the display plate back on the counter." And this is what transpired in raised voices:

Irrationally Angry Papa Bear (IAPB for short): You know what, David, it's not a big deal! What's the problem?

David: Sir, I simply would like you to replace the display plate. We ask that customers do not move it.

IAPB: You know, David, you have a lot of rules! A lot of rules! What exactly are you trying to protect?!


David: Well, I'm trying to protect my plate, sir.

IAPB now shouting: A lot of rules, David! He's five years old. How would you suggest he see the plate?

David: Might I suggest picking him up instead of the plate?

IAPB: BLLLAAAAGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH (and then his head spontaneously combusted, ruining my display plate after all)!


Okay, the last part didn't happen and it's a good thing too. I really didn't want to waste my time and product making another display plate.

Your Food is Cold? Your Own Damn Fault!

Taking a single step before the next is a perfectly reasonable strategy in many facets of life. It works well with walking, that's for sure. Fixing a car and following recipes... great idea. But ordering food step-by-step is not only a recipe for receiving a cold meal, it might also attract a violent reaction from your barista or, in my case, line cook. Let me explain.

Contrary to popular myth (and all of you customer and food service pros can back me up in the comments section), the people that serve your food are not idiots. Their brain capacities exceed that of gnats. Many of them can even spell gnat without looking it up in a dictionary. In fact, it is not an exaggeration to say that cooks and waitstaff (but not banquet staff - whole different thing there) possess a very special kind of genius that civilians simply don't understand. A mental capacity for retaining strings of information delivered under sometimes grueling (pun intended) circumstances and translating that information into a hot meal to be enjoyed by all. The only thing that can get in your cook's or server's way is a customer that simply cannot keep up with the pace or, even worse, insists on ordering food item by item by item ad nauseum. I am not exaggerating when I say that item-by-item customers fill me with a fury that boils as hot as the water in my steam trays. We're talking cartoon steam coming out of my ears.

Why is this a problem? Let's start with my top three reasons:

1. Just like a car doesn't like going from 60 mph to 25 mph, neither does a line cook who actually takes pride in working at a breakneck pace. Grinding to a halt to take and prepare an order is physically uncomfortable.

2. It makes your food cold. Now this bothers me for two reasons. First, I actually care about the product that I send out. All cooks do - in spite of everything, we are prideful people and our food matters. The more significant reason, however, is that customers often complain to managers about cold food, even when they caused the temporal drop. There is nothing quite so punishing as being held responsible for an item-by-item customer's shortcomings.

3. Many customers order item-by-item because they presume that's the most I can handle. That presumption is insulting. Offer the benefit of the doubt that the line cook or server can keep up and, if proven otherwise, hold the person accountable. But do not act like I need a sock puppet show to understand something as simple as an order that I have probably heard before.

This experience is pretty common. My inspiration for the entry on my last night off before the new work week came during a visit to Dunkin' Donuts on my way home from the City. I stood behind a young man, probably a local college student, who waited about four minutes to receive a nice hot order of hash brown bites (they are delicious). The line attendant walked to the register only to receive a follow-up order for hot chocolate and, I kid you not, I could see in her eyes the desire to leap across the counter and shred the customer like a carrot. Funny, I felt the same thing. I didn't want to wait to order my hash browns!

Getting Sudsy! Volutneering at the Great World Beer Fest 2010

I mentioned at the end of the week that I am proud to be participating in the 2010 Food Network's New York City Wine and Food Festival. Following that theme, I found out today that I will be working one shift at the 8th Annual Great World Beer Fest this Friday between 8 PM and Midnight.

This looks like a very fun event. I found it through a new connection on Twitter (you can find me there too with a little work) and immediate contacted the organizer about participating. Last year, they brought in over 15,000 beer enthusiasts over two days, serving samples from the United States, Canada and all over South America. This is my first beer festival in New York City, so I don't know what to expect. But I will certainly write about it Friday night or Saturday morning. Until then, keep it in mind if you are a fan of hops and barley. Their website is still in progress but it has a lot of the pertinent info.

http://www.brewtopiafest.com/

Food Bank of NYC and the 2010 Wine and Food Festival

More than just my (hopefully) humorous rants about life in the food and customer service industries, I hope to use this blog to promote special events, people or organizations that enrich our community. When I moved to New York in 2009, I started volunteering at special events as a way to meet new people, learn about the city and network. The first such event was the Food Network New York City Wine and Food Festival and I am thrilled to be volunteering again this year, this time helping coordinate set-up for the Grand Tasting. For more information about everything they have to offer, a true foodie's dream weekend, check out their website below:

http://www.nycwineandfoodfestival.com/2010/

Part of what makes this event so special is the exposure, donations and funding that are channeled to the Food Bank of New York City. I have volunteered for two of their events (the Wine and Food Festival and the NYC Marathon) and can honestly say that everyone who works for this organization is a winner. They genuinely appreciate everyone who comes out to support their fundraising efforts. So, please take a look at their website and think about whether or not you might like to support them.

http://www.foodbanknyc.org/

If you are a reader of this blog and would like to share any experiences you have had participating in this event or volunteering for the Food Bank, let us know in the comment section.

This Week's Top Ten Most Head-Shaking Buffalo Chicken Moments

My work week is over and it's time for me to share my top ten most ridiculous, frustrating, or otherwise head-shaking comments (with a little bit of context when needed).

Number 10: "Wow, that chicken looks amazing" (looking at the display plate of our breaded veal entree, clearly labeled on the menu).

Number 9: A customer returns to the line to share a compliment after finishing his meal.  He says "That veal entree was the best tasting chicken I've ever had."

Number 8: A rather unpleasant man ordered a cup of soup and requested a plastic soup spoon so I sent him to our cashier. He returns and exclaims, "I have been coming here for over 15 years and always eat my soup with a plastic soup spoon. I am very disappointed!" My thought bubble: 15 years? Time to try speed dating.

Number 7: Courtesy of Toots, my disturbing stalker… I mean regular "Oh, I would love the entree but without the starch. I'm watching my figure and it makes me a little gassy."

Number 6: Customer to a friend "Hey look, they have pananis! Can you tell me what the daily panani is?"

Number 5: This one happens a lot but is not necessarily worthy of a full blog post. Whenever a customer orders a panini, I ask if s/he would like chips OR side salad. The frequent response, that happened four times today, is "Yes!"

Number 4: A customer asks for a freshly prepared salad from our salad bar. Here is what she requested with a helpful translation "Some of that mixed green stuff (mesclun mix), and some of the orange shreds (carrot), some mushrooms (they really were mushrooms, so kudos!), some of those nuts (actually chick peas or garbanzo beans - your choice), and the brown stuff (balsamic vinaigrette).

Number 3: In a nice change, the customer appeared to read the menu. She turned to me and asked "How do they cook the sauté vegetables?" My snarky response "Very carefully."

Number 2: Customer trying to make small talk says to me "You must love interacting with so many people!" My thought bubble: HAHAAAHAAAHAAA! I laugh so I won't cry.

Number 1: Customer asks another customer what she ordered. Her response "I ordered the quesadiller… I mean quesadill… I ordered the quesadillio."

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Yes, dear readers… a quesadillio. And no, dear readers, my customer was not P-Diddy. She was an older white woman who be the feature player in a future entry on the all too frequent mispronunciation of quesadilla. But for another day. Until then, have a wonderful weekend and please write in if you would like to share any similar experiences.

Take Off the Blinders... A World of Trays Awaits!

Cue creepy horror flick music

An unsettling phenomenon is sweeping through the cafe. Like a disease with multiple hosts, it travels on tour buses and in cars, through the MTA and Metro North. It may not be Bubonic but it is a plague… on my patience. Yes, I'm writing about patron tunnel vision.

Patron tunnel vision refers to the inability of some guests, possibly a bit overwhelmed by the menu, our charming decor, that handsome fella standing behind the line, to survey their environment and use that information to their advantage. Okay, I know I'm overwriting but hang with me.

We all know that ordering food takes more than skilled chefs and an appetite. In a cafe setting, it requires silverware, trays, cups, straws, a cashier… you get the idea. And every cafe worth its salt is organized with ease of dining in mind. For example, before a customer can reach my line, s/he must walk past a rack with trays and silverware, a soda fountain, cold beverage cooler, and a display with sandwiches and desserts. So why do I have so many customers make it to the line without any of these essentials? Immediately in front of the entrance are two checkout lines with POS system, desserts, and salty treats. So why do I have so many customers offer me money for their food?

This is a clear case of tunnel vision (the inability to see beyond the center field of vision). Sidebar: I remember the first time I wore contact lenses, the thrill of having sharp peripheral vision again, or maybe for the first time. I don't know why anyone would ever give up their peripherals - they're a gift and oh so useful when purchasing multiple food items.

So how does this play out? Here are a couple examples of a tunnel vision situation and my often snarky reaction.

Scenario 1: The Food Offering

Today, a single patron silently placed his sandwich, beverage and side salad on the counter at the back end of my line. He seemed so earnest in expecting me to ring him up but the question remained… with what? My response: "No thank you, sir. I'm not hungry quite yet. But if you would like to purchase these items, I recommend visiting the cashier."

Scenario 2: The Money Offering

A couple days ago, two separate customers offered me payment for their food. The first asked, "Can I give you money for this?" My response, "You can but you would still have to pay the cashier behind you."

The second customer spoke not a single word, instead waving a $20 in my direction. Already frustrated, I pointed to the cashier with the thought bubble "Wow, $20 and I didn't even have to climb the pole."

Scenario 3: The Cantankerous Tray-less Wonder

The cantankerous tray-less wonder is usually an elderly patron or an adult leading a group of children, someone who orders more food than can reasonably be carried in two hands, and has a tendency to make ridiculous demands based on ridiculous expectations. For example, this patron expects that I have a stash of trays hiding underneath my line, which might be a good idea if I want to corner the market and charge people per tray, but something tells me I would soon move from cafe line to unemployment line.

This charming individual can't request a tray without either snarling like a junkyard dog or whimpering like a neglected puppy. How many times have customers barked at me "I want a tray! You don't have any trays! Where are the trays?!" Again, I only ever point them in the right direction. But my favorite was last week when an overwhelmed customer exclaimed in a most passive aggressive way, "Well, I think I'll have to take multiple trips because I can't find any trays anywhere. it's really unfortunate but I'll make it work. My response, " Try right behind you."

Searching for New Food Blogs

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Do you know of an interesting food, wine or drink blog that you think I might like? Send me a comment so I can add it to my blog feed. Thanks!


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It's the Display, Dummy!

We all know the expression "A picture is worth a thousand words." Well, in the food business, a display plate might be worth a 50 covers during a slow to medium lunch service. The concept behind the display plate is simple: allowing the patrons to feast their eyes on one of the daily specials, entree or appetizer, will increase sales and enthusiasm. Not only does it work, but it's fun to get creative with the plate in the morning before service. Any professional cook will confirm the importance of aesthetics and the fun that can be had with plating.

But what happens when those display plates look a little too appetizing?

Yesterday, I witnessed two of the most common answers to that question… either the food on the plate disappears or the plate itself starts to (or does) disappear entirely.

I'm not sure what goes through the heads of these customers. Here's

Scenario Number 1: The Disappearing Food Act.

We're in our slow season but the lunch rush between 12-2 can be busy enough that I might have 6-12 people on line at any given time and I can't pay close attention to all of them at once. Helping the first three customers on line, I noticed out of the corner of my eye an older gentleman with two companions eye the display plate for our entree that included two pieces of mushroom flan. Enticed by the three-hour old food, the man removed one of the pieces of flan from the plate and motioned toward his mouth. Catching him in the act, I moved down the line and requested that he not eat food from the display plate. His response? Put the flan in his mouth and tell me "Too late." Adding insult to injury (the plate, not me of course), he didn't even show the courtesy to finish chewing before he spoke!

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Scenario Number 2: The Disappearing Plate Act

As if watching patrons take cold food off the plate and munch to their heart's content isn't bad enough, sometimes I look out at the counter and see that the entire plate (or bowl) is gone. This happens more frequently than I care to admit - we must have lost a dozen ceramic bowls during the holiday season to patrons overcome with desire for our winter cobbler. But yesterday, the act was disrupted and my exchange with the customer went like this:

David (watching a customer remove the display plate from the counter: Excuse me, ma'am, can you please set the plate down?

Customer: Is this one mine?

David: Well, you haven't ordered anything yet, so no, it isn't. Would you like the entree?

Customer: I want a cup of soup. But I'll take this instead.

David: That's a display plate. I'll prepare a hot entree for you in just a moment.

Customer: Can I have this plate? It's very pretty.

David Thought Bubble: Where did I go wrong in life?

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Most days, I just shake my head, roll my eyes and move on to the next person. But this time, I took a bit of pride in making such a beautiful display plate. Go David!

Welcome Cafe Regulars

I'll put it out there - I love this blog and look forward to writing every entry. I am very pleased to begin inviting some of my regular customers (you will never find them as a buffalo chicken subject) to see how I walk the line behind the scenes. It's my day-to-day interactions with people like them that make the more frustrating moments a bit easier. So, to all of my regular customers who take the time to read this blog, welcome! I would be honored to see you all as regular followers or just see a few words in the comments section.

Cougar Cafe, Or, Why I Will Never Flirt with a Waitress Ever Again

Hello, my name is David and I'm a recovering server flirter. I was notorious in my day, no cute waitress was safe from receiving a hearty portion of my supposed charm. A couple times in college and grad school, I deftly wrote my name and number on the check, always a bit surprised when no call came. But no worries, I'm sure it had nothing to do with me.

Actually, it had everything to do with me and how completely irrelevant I was to the cute waitress. I understand that now. I also understand just how creepy the flirtation can be and will never be so rude as to burden a waitress or hostess with my banter. Yes, I am paying my penance at what has become the Cougar Cafe. And, no, readers… I do not want any of these cougars to bite.

What started as an isolated incident or two has become a regular occurrence on the line. One, two or three women between the ages of 50-75 (yes, 75 seems an accurate guess) come into the cafe, place their orders, and try mercilessly to flirt with me. I get it - I'm a stud. And please understand, I have no problem with older women in general. The day Jody Foster walks into the cafe and asks for my number (unlikely for so many reasons), I will be all over it. But with these customers in these circumstances, it's a little bit gross.

Ignore for the moment my feelings of helplessness, knowing that a negative response might undermine my commitment to providing good customer service and a pleasant dining experience. The feeling of dirtiness that someone is objectifying me, which honestly, I wouldn't mind if it came from some of my younger more appealing patrons. Part of what makes this so unnerving is just how bad these women are at flirting. Take, for example, my most regular stalker… I mean patron. I call her Toots.

Toots a middle aged woman of slender build who frequents the cafe sometimes as often as four days per week when I have shifts. She does not dine with us on Sundays, my day off. In addition to the usual batting of eye lashes, inappropriate comments about my eyes, smile or physique, and her desperate attempts to interpret our menu as one designed only with her in mind, Toots has the unfortunate habit of telling me just which foods wreak havoc on her bowel. In her more flirty voice and smile of course.

No joke, these exchanges are downright nasty.

You will hear more about Toots in what will be a sadly regular feature called The Toots Chronicles. Until then, here are a couple of the most memorable pickup lines delivered by some of my most seasoned patrons.

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David: Would you like anything else?
Customer: How about your phone number, sweetie?
David: Anything else on our menu, perhaps?

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David: Hi, what can I get for you today?
Customer: Well, dear, is there anything on the menu as delicious as you?
David: Try the chili.

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David: Two small cups of the mediterranean vegetable soup. Anything else today?
Customer: You know, you have very beautiful eyes. Do you have a girlfriend?
David: Some crackers, perhaps? Maybe a half sandwich?

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Customer: You know, you are so cute I could just eat you up.
David: I think your entree will be sufficient, ma'am.