Welcome to Talk to Tom, the dining advice column that aims to point you toward good meals, steer you from the dross and solve your pressing restaurant queries. Look for a fresh Q&A every Thursday in this space.
Questions and comments can be submitted to TalkToTom@notus.com. Submissions may be edited for length and clarity.
If I get comped for something, like a drink or appetizer, and it wasn’t because something was wrong, how should that be reflected in my tip?
There are a couple of schools of thought on the matter, and my answer depends in part on a diner’s relationship with a restaurant. One response is to tip as if you ordered the item. What server won’t appreciate that?
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More often than not, however, something gratis is going out to a guest who is celebrating a special occasion or who makes regular appearances. In those situations, industry pros tell me, the gift should be considered what it is: a gesture of hospitality that requires no more reciprocation than a “thank you very much.”
Restaurants deal with leftovers differently. Do you prefer to box unfinished food yourself or have staff take care of the task?
Some places want diners to do the job, because diners know exactly what leftovers they want. (I’ve heard stories about customers getting upset because, for instance, cleaned steak bones and tiny garnishes weren’t included in their bags of leftovers.)
Personally, I appreciate places that handle the matter behind the scenes; that’s part of hospitality. Have you ever tried to transfer a big piece of unfinished meat or slippery noodles from plate or bowl to take-out container, sometimes without proper serving utensils? Not so easy, or neat.
I also like it when a server instructs you to retrieve your leftovers at the host stand, on the way out, versus plopping a bag on your table or the floor while you’re still there. At the fun new steakhouse Ox & Olive in Georgetown, servers give you a playing card to remember food to go. Guests pick up the bags that match their cards from a cute wooden “tree” at the entrance.
It feels like tasting menus are getting long again.
Ah, you must have heard me grouse about the time I sat for over three hours at a D.C. hotspot and ended up taking home 99 percent of the pastry chef’s multiple desserts because I simply couldn’t eat ONE. MORE. THING. While much of the food was very good, the flurry of dishes felt like a forced march, as though the chef wanted to pack all his ideas into one epic seating. By the end of the night, I felt as if I had dispatched a Thanksgiving’s worth of food and drink (and wished I had stretch pants on). My one-word review would have read, “Uncomfortable.”
But I digress. The opposite of that night occurred just last week, at Rooster & Owl on 14th Street Northwest, where chef Yuan Tang offers what might be my favorite tasting menu in D.C. One, it’s four courses, with multiple choices. Two, the cost is $125, a value given the quality, creativity and competition around town. Three, the meal is paced perfectly, so there never seems to be a rush or a lag. Two of us were in and out in about 90 minutes. We left sated but not stuffed, and eager to return.
Tang’s new menu speaks to the season and makes me wonder how, for instance, cantaloupe might be rethought as dan dan noodles, crab fritters would taste with spiced honey, pork skewers could be embellished with fish sauce gastrique, and mango sticky rice gets fused with a pavlova. My long history with the upscale mom-and-pop forecasts that everything will be on point — and my recent reunion proved as much.
My pet peeve continues to be loud restaurants. Why do so many of them sound like boom boxes?
In many restaurants, the culprit is in the design: lots of glass, metal and exposed brick, sometimes in combination with bare concrete floors and high ceilings. Hard surfaces reflect sound, rather than absorb it.
A packed dining room increases the noise, too, as customers raise their voices to be heard, a phenomenon known as the Lombard effect. The problem is exacerbated when restaurants crank up their playlists, thinking loud music creates a sought-after buzz. Open bars and kitchens, with their distinct sound effects — espresso machines, clanging pots, ice bins — also contribute to the noise pollution.
Restaurants can lower the volume by installing acoustic panels, curtains, rugs or even artwork designed to sponge noise; adding more space between tables; selecting softer finishes; and measuring sound levels rather than relying on instinct. (There are apps for that, don’t you know.) An average of between 65 to 70 decibels should be the aim.
For their part, diners ISO peace with their meals should consider eating on the early side, asking for tables on the perimeter of dining rooms — and letting their voices be heard by management. Wouldn’t it be great if more restaurants offered something along the lines of a designated music- and phone-free time period for people who don’t want to read lips or shout throughout dinner?
Research has shown that excessive noise can shorten restaurant visits and increase stress — not exactly agreeable outcomes for anyone.
My grandson is about to turn 18. We’re in Baltimore and steak is on his wish list.
A big birthday (your progeny can vote now!) calls for something special. The place that leaps to mind is the family-owned Prime Rib, launched in 1965 and as popular for its ambience — tuxedoed servers, live piano, retro supper club look — as for its succulent, signature cut, which diners should order cooked medium-rare and eat with grated horseradish.
It seems service is inevitably worse in a restaurant that’s slow. Your take?
You’d think a slow dining room would translate to more customer attention, but that’s not necessarily the case. A busy restaurant creates momentum and buzz; in a nearly empty one, staff can become less focused because there’s no rhythm to the service.
To control labor costs, during slow periods restaurants might schedule fewer workers — servers who might then take on multiple tasks, including answering the phone, greeting and seating guests, busing tables and maybe bar tending. Management might also ask them to help with duties like stocking, napkin-folding or food preparation, which can distract them from their primary job of looking after customers. Morale also takes a hit in a slow restaurant, with servers worried about tips and schedules. Places that struggle to attract business might have a hard time hiring and keeping good workers.
To be clear, good restaurants can be slow for reasons unrelated to quality. Bad weather and traffic jams, for instance, can wreak havoc on reservations and walk-in customers.
Given high prices, my rant is restaurants that charge for bread service. It immediately turns me off. I long for the bread baskets at Le Diplomate or Obelisk.
The reality is, the complimentary gestures at those establishments cost a lot, in terms of labor and/or money, and this in an industry with particularly thin margins. At Le Diplomate, the beloved French brasserie on 14th Street Northwest, chef Greg Lloyd tells me the amenity — a basket brimming with slices of baguette, rye wheat boule and cranberry-walnut loaf, served with lightly salted whipped butter — costs the restaurant $250,000 a year. As for the fixed-price Obelisk, Esther Lee, the chef-owner of the intimate Italian townhouse in Dupont Circle, says her grissini and other breads aren’t so much about the expense of ingredients, but the time it takes the small business to produce them in-house.
A bread basket is more than a way to stave off hunger before the first course. It’s a way to signal care and craftsmanship — a welcome handshake, if you will. Gratis bread baskets haven’t exactly gone the way of pay phones. I’ve been offered them at restaurants as diverse as Ristorante i Ricchi and Joe’s Seafood, Prime Steak & Stone Crab downtown, Filomena Ristorante in Georgetown and Et Voila! in the Palisades. (Readers, help me grow this list, which I can share in a future column.)
To cut waste, the owner of I Ricchi, Chris Ricchi, says her gratis schiacciata, baked in the restaurant and adding to the Tuscan experience, is preceded by a question: Would you like bread? At Et Voila!, the Belgian restaurant offers the first basket free and charges $3.50 for a second.
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