Sunday, May 14, 2006
Teaching a Pig to Sing
I hate reasoning with dickweeds.
I recently went out to dinner with some longtime friends to a cafe that's getting local media attention for the freshness and creativity of its menu. I arrived early, as usual, so I could speak to the manager or chef about my dietary restrictions.
The chef's first words to me? Not "Hello" or "Welcome," but "We cannot accept the responsibility..." He then goes on a little rant about food allergies.
OK, immediately my hackles are up. If I hadn't seen one of my friends walk through the door at that moment, I would've walked out. So instead of waiting for all of us to arrive and decide on a new place or abandon my buddles, I decide to discuss the menu calmly with the chef. (My natural inclination is towards drama-queen-storming-off, so you know if I'm calm, I'm pissed.) I can tell he's worried about my going into seizures, scaring away his customers and then suing his ass into bankruptcy.
I shoot a sidelong glance at the specials board. Hmm... Wild Mushroom Risotto. I love risotto, and if it's made correctly, it shouldn't have gluten. Here goes:
"What I have is not an allergy. I'm not going to go into anaphylactic shock and scare away your patrons." He's visibly relieved.
"Tell me about your Wild Mushroom Risotto. Do you make your own broth or do you use a packaged or canned broth?" Uh-oh, he's getting defensive. Of course, he makes his own broth.
"OK, then it looks like we're in good shape. What else is in the risotto besides the mushrooms, broth and rice?" Shallots and wine? "No problem, then. That's what I'll have."
He looks a little stunned, like he was preparing for a fight and then was denied the chance to battle. He backs off and mutters that yes, he'll use a fresh pan to make my dish.
I had to laugh when I looked at the menu later: "Our chef will cheerfully accommodate any special requests."
I recently went out to dinner with some longtime friends to a cafe that's getting local media attention for the freshness and creativity of its menu. I arrived early, as usual, so I could speak to the manager or chef about my dietary restrictions.
The chef's first words to me? Not "Hello" or "Welcome," but "We cannot accept the responsibility..." He then goes on a little rant about food allergies.
OK, immediately my hackles are up. If I hadn't seen one of my friends walk through the door at that moment, I would've walked out. So instead of waiting for all of us to arrive and decide on a new place or abandon my buddles, I decide to discuss the menu calmly with the chef. (My natural inclination is towards drama-queen-storming-off, so you know if I'm calm, I'm pissed.) I can tell he's worried about my going into seizures, scaring away his customers and then suing his ass into bankruptcy.
I shoot a sidelong glance at the specials board. Hmm... Wild Mushroom Risotto. I love risotto, and if it's made correctly, it shouldn't have gluten. Here goes:
"What I have is not an allergy. I'm not going to go into anaphylactic shock and scare away your patrons." He's visibly relieved.
"Tell me about your Wild Mushroom Risotto. Do you make your own broth or do you use a packaged or canned broth?" Uh-oh, he's getting defensive. Of course, he makes his own broth.
"OK, then it looks like we're in good shape. What else is in the risotto besides the mushrooms, broth and rice?" Shallots and wine? "No problem, then. That's what I'll have."
He looks a little stunned, like he was preparing for a fight and then was denied the chance to battle. He backs off and mutters that yes, he'll use a fresh pan to make my dish.
I had to laugh when I looked at the menu later: "Our chef will cheerfully accommodate any special requests."
# posted by Peggy @ 9:29 AM 
