Chef & Texts = Demise of Service

Pampered Chefs, Smart Phones Bring Customer Frustration

by Rick Eichhorn

2020

One of the best overall restaurants I ever worked for was the Moonraker.  Located across the street from John Wayne Airport in Irvine, CA, the restaurant was considered a “specialty” restaurant in the Reuben’s chain.  When I started there in the 80s, the menu was basic steaks and seafood, with prime rib and broasted chicken.  A management team of three well-trained people were in charge of the entire restaurant including all the hiring, the inventory, and the ordering. The cooks—and they were “cooks”—were well trained, and the food always came out in a timely manner.  Nothing fancy was happening on the cook’s line.  Just expertly cooked steaks, broiled seafood, simple sautés, and Johnny-on-the-spot manning of the fryer.

So the food was consistently very good, but what made this restaurant great was the service.  First off, it started with a world-class training program.  The restaurant had designated trainers, that wore a different color name tag, that had a proven track record.  These designated trainers constantly went to refresher seminars, and they were the only ones that trained.  It wasn’t like the new kid showed up for their first day and the owner would say, “Well, Charmagne usually trains but she called in sick, so I’ll stick you with Betsy.  Just don’t pick up any of her bad habits.” 

At the Moonraker, during the first day of training the new hire simply followed the trainer as she/he explained everything they were doing and why.  This protocol was never broken.  Unlike today, the trainer never started using the new hire as their “bitch.”  As the week went on, the new hire became more and more involved with the service until the new hire was doing everything—and I mean everything—and the trainer was following them and giving critiques in the side station.  Meanwhile, everything about proper service was taught: Never stand at one spot when taking an order, rather, go around to each customer, never leave anything on the table that the customer will never use (prebus), don’t clear one plate—clear the entire table when everyone is finished, don’t drop a check until requested, offer appetizers and wine, place utensils such as soup spoons on table before serving the course, round trip service, communication, how to put in tickets to kitchen to get the right food at the right time, the idiosyncrasies of each cook, etc. etc.

And although the Moonraker was always busy and doing great sales, some of the Reuben’s were floundering, so the brilliant company executives sitting in their corporate office decided to make some changes.  They hired a chef for each restaurant.  The chef completely took over the kitchen, and the management team became less significant.  At the Moonraker, the kitchen went from running like a smooth, well-oiled machine, to a Chang Che horror flick with a ranting maniac playing the lead role.  Menu items went from sautéed scallops and shrimp scampi to convoluted pastas with ten thousand ingredients.  Ticket times went through the roof.  Plates started having sprinkling of herbs and pepper around the rims to make them look artsy (I guess), but customers just thought they were dirty.  The broiler cook became distracted and steaks started getting mixed up.  With the kitchen in disarray, management started spending more time back of the house—helplessly questioning the chef but with no real power—and less time out front.  Service suffered.  Business dropped off.  Today the Moonraker is an IHOP.

But that’s just one story.  I went on to work at great restaurants with great chefs and/or owners that had unbelievable food.  Trouble was, the food, although in the right hands was incredibly delicious, the ingredients and preparations were becoming more and more complicated.  As the chef/owner became in charge of the restaurant, it became more important that the server know how to explain the food than know the mechanics of service.  Chefs wanted “ambassadors” for their food, and though they gave the service mechanics a sprinkling of spicy lip service, they really didn’t have a deep understanding of all dimensions involved in proper service.  Sure, they might’ve had one course and a nifty textbook on service while in culinary school; but come on, seasoned servers take years to develop, and then they become the ones needed to pass on their experience to the newcomers.  And the old timers, the real pros, are fast dying off.  And let’s face it, most chefs would rather tackle an untrimmed artichoke than a prickly customer.  Most chefs only want to come out of the kitchen to hear a fat sot lavish praise about how they’ve never had a carrot-ginger-lemongrass-sassafrickingfrassafrasspoopoo broth so well balanced that they thought they had died and gone to Caligula food orgy heaven.

So that sets the stage, then came the final nail in the coffin of the ghost of service past: The Smart Phone.  Why an owner would ever even allow cell phones into their restaurant is beyond me.  Trouble is, most chefs and owners can’t part with their own cell phones, so I guess they turn a blind eye; or, if chef didn’t bring or forgot their phone they want to be able to turn to a server for a quick answer to trivia or drink recipe.  Today, it’s common to pull up a stool at the bar only to have the bartender buried in his/her texting.  They’ll attempt to get your order right while not breaking a typing stroke. Or, seated at a table, your server will drop off your panko-breaded scallops, forgetting the side of Romesco sauce, but you’ll never get her attention or see her again ‘til the check, because she’s busy texting her mother in the side station telling her to stay out of her life.

Now, I’m a diehard foodie.  I love the food revolution and all the great food that is available even in small Midwest towns.  But I do mourn the death of service.  Truth be told, I’d be willing to bet that the old Moonraker, with its limited menu of delicious, well-prepared food, along with the spot-on service, would be a great success today.

Egg Versus Chicken

A True-life Fable About Pesto

by Rick Eichhorn

One Sunday, while prepping brunch next to a woman named Rose who approached cooking with equal parts joy and consternation, Chef Ryan casually prompted her for an opinion about his ingredients for an omelet special.  You see, Ryan had two fish tubs of chicken breasts that he needed to use up, and he was planning on grilling those for the filling, adding Jack cheese, and then topping the omelet with a somewhat spicy tomato-pear salsa.  Rose winced.  It seemed, to her, putting chicken into an omelet was something akin to an act that falls somewhere between incest and cannibalism.  At first, Ryan didn’t quite see it that way.  Then he thought about a turkey-spinach omelet that he had recently devoured at Bob Evans.  It sounded good, but when it came, the turkey and the eggs had the less-than-magical effect of bringing out the worst in each other.  To him, the eggs began to taste like sulfur, the turkey became gamey.  Sure, he was starved, and he ate it, but it left a foul taste in his mouth for at least a day.  So Ryan wondered, is fowl foul in omelets?  With turkey on his brain, now he couldn’t even picture the chicken cuddled neatly into the fluffy eggs.  Plan B: Run a Chicken ala King ladled over the club’s homemade biscuits for a brunch special and go a whole different route for the omelet.  Ham and eggs are a natural, as is a nice pesto.  The end product?  An omelet filled with Black Forest ham and Fontina cheese and then topped with a saucy spinach-walnut pesto.  A Green Eggs and Ham Omelet.

Spinach-Walnut Pesto

4 cups clean, dry, fresh spinach

¼ cup toasted walnuts

1 Tablespoon minced garlic

½ cup parmesan cheese

Juice of 1 lemon

Dash hot sauce

Olive Oil

Salt and fresh-ground pepper

Pulse first four ingredients in a food processor and then slowly add olive oil with processor running until smooth. Add cheese, lemon, hot sauce, and S & P.  Continue adding olive oil until a somewhat loose, yet saucy consistency is achieved.