Money saved is money earned. And money tipped, well, that's money gone. And, Winstead's, I wish I had my $5 back.
I get it. I asked for 12 sandwiches. That's a large order. That's why I was glad to leave a tip. However, that was before I had to tell my father-in-law that he didn't have a burger because we were one item short. I didn't check the bag. That's on me. I left you a tip. That's also on me. But the regret I feel? That's all yours, Winstead's.
How would you feel about getting baby carrots while you were out trick-or-treating? What if they were scary carrots?
bag. They're a treat perhaps only Bunnicula could love. You might as
well put a sign on your house that reads: "Please egg us." This may be
worse than giving out pennies or a toothbrushes. The only thing saving Scarrots is that they come with glow-in-the-dark temporary tattoos.
The sun is shining and diners are enjoying the chance to eat outdoors. But at restaurants across the city, servers are forced to shoo away people who are not dining out.
Today, one server gets a chance to take aim at people who see restaurant patios as public spaces. It'll be anonymous, because these types of rants are often followed by a manager explaining that the server's last paycheck will be
mailed home. Below are situations our server has encountered, the excuses he hears ad nauseam and the responses he'd love to give.
But I'm just waiting for the rest of my party... Then go in and talk to the hostess like you would at any other restaurant. I don't need to enjoy your half of a cell phone conversation as I attempt to recite the daily specials.
We're just snapping a quick picture.... You're not Ansel Adams and this is not a national park. Save the cheesecake photos for at home, so my guests don't have to struggle to keep down their meal while watching your attempts to look sexy.
While there are an endless number of food holidays -- today is apparently National Hazelnut Cake Day -- most of them have no real connection to the day on which they fall. It's time for that to change. With three simple steps, America can have a definitive set of food holidays that will provide more fodder for food blogs and better highlight some of the uniquely American foods.
Trim the Fat. We need to get rid of extraneous food holidays and clear marketing gimmicks. Instead of making every day a food holiday, I think we're looking at somewhere between once and twice a week. National Hazelnut Cake Day, you won't make the cut. Especially when tomorrow is National Rocky Road Ice Cream Day.
America has a lot of different foods, but how many are worth their own holiday? Asking the simple question, "Am I excited to eat this today in the name of celebration?" should provide a simple answer.
I spend time in lines every day. It's one of the few occupational hazards of being a food blogger. And because most lines end with a single cashier (except for the multi-headed cashier monster at QuikTrip that is the single most efficient checkout in the universe) that means I have a lot of time to think about how things might go more quickly.
Truth is that we -- customers -- are the problem. Though we have nothing but time to prepare for the exact moment of ordering, it still seems to fluster so many. There are those of you on the phone, who seem genuinely shocked that we are occupying your mobile office while you check e-mail. Some of you suddenly discover you don't know what you want. Others, perhaps out of Midwest politeness, refuse to move forward despite an open register and a slight head nod from the cashier.
| It's creamy, but isn't cream |
Fat City reader Lorraine likes cream with her coffee.
Real cream, she says, not the little containers of unrefrigerated God-only-knows-what. She was particularly irked about a restaurant such as Eggtc. at 51st and Main, which aspires to be a high-quality breakfast joint but wouldn't give Lorraine the real stuff -- you know, from a cow.
I prefer my coffee black, but even if I wanted something milky in my brew, you couldn't get me touch the mysterious white liquid in those little plastic tubs. I mean, it's about as natural as mascara: mostly sugar and vegetable oils ... and sodium caseinate to give the product "a creamy look and feel." According to one website, sodium casienate "is obtained from fresh and pasteurized skim milk by acid coagulation of the casein, neutralization with sodium hyroxide, and drying in a spray dryer."
Isn't that how they make paint?
(Image via Flickr: bearbacksnack)
| Glamour night: Dinner at Red Lobster, then Prom! |
My favorite prom customer was the cocky Shawnee Mission East kid. His date was beautiful -- her hair teased, curled and sprayed into something resembling the Himalayan mountains -- and they were dining with three other teen couples. All the other young patrons ordered soda before dinner, but when it was his turn to order he lowered his voice and said, "I'd like a rum-and-Coke, please."
I asked to see his I.D. and he blushed. His date giggled nervously and the rest of their party grew silent. Without missing a beat, the teenager looked up at me and said in a much less-theatrical voice: "Do you have chocolate milk?"
But there are always the exceptions, such as the expensively outfitted pair who left me a thirty-five cent tip on a $70 tab. I followed them outside and threw the tip tray at them; it gave them a good story to tell at the after-party, I guess.
Most servers I know, past and present, have a prom night story to tell and most of them are pretty funny. But that doesn't mean they were laughing at the time. In fact, I used to cringe when I saw the hostess escorting a prom couple to one of my tables. I would glimpse the petals of the girl's corsage and think, "No tip from this deuce." And I was usually right.
(Image via Flickr: tobyotter)
| Hungry? Foo you! |
The problem what? It's the appetizer you ordered that was never turned in, the dinner directions that were ignored ("Can I have the steak medium rare, please?"), the dessert never served. It's usually a communication screw-up between server and kitchen and it can happen easily on a busy weekend night when servers get flustered or the kitchen gets swamped.
One recent Sunday, at the nearly empty New China Tom's Chinese Restaurant at 2816 West 47th Street in Kansas City, Kansas, I was dining with two friends who ordered starters -- they were great -- and dinner. I ordered dinner too: a dish called Eight Treasures that the waitress had recommended. Twenty minutes later, a server brought one dinner. Ten minutes after that, the second meal arrived. The waitress not only never brought out the Eight Treasures, but we didn't see her again until she brought out the check. She seemed miffed when I requested that she deduct the cost of the Eight Treasures from the tab. "You mean no one brought it out to you?" she said, feigning surprise.
One of my companions said it was the best answer he'd heard since the day he asked a restaurant manager why he hadn't seen his waitress for the last hour and the unflappable manager told him, "Oh, she's crying in the bathroom."
Curbside service is not Chili's bringing pizzatizers to your idling minivan. Curbside service is walking up to a taco truck to get food that you can walk with and eat on the street -- something that doesn't much exist in Kansas City.
I think Kansas City only has one legitimate food truck in existence, the Jerusalem Cafe Truck (a 2009 Best Of Kansas City Extra for late-night eats). The other contenders are either stationary or not consistently around.
There's Fresher Than Fresh Snowcones in an old Shasta trailer on the West Side and Lulu's at the Ward Parkway Mall -- but both are parked trailers (for now). The S'mores cart and hot dog/sausage carts make appearances in the Crossroads and outside the Sprint Center for events, but neither are cruising regularly.
So hipsters and those with food-handler's licenses, I'm looking to you. I don't care if it's cupcakes or Korean barbecue or simply a sub shop on wheels, I'll be waiting at the curb.
[Image via Flickr: pheezy]
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