Dining Out By Dave Barry Philadephia Inquirer Magazine - October 23, 1983 Americans are starting to dine out again, as they react to the economic upturn and the toxic mold growths bonded to the piles of unwashed dishes left over from the economic downturn. The problem is that many of you have gone so long without dining out that your only concept of a restaurant is McDonalds's. I'm afraid you're going to go to a really snotty restaurant and do something stupid, such as ask the wine steward for your free "Return of the Jedi" glass. So let's take a moment here to review the proper way to behave in a restaurant. When you arrive, you will be greeted by a person dressed in an outfit like the one Fred Astaire wore in all those movies where he danced on tables. This is your maitre d', and you should tip him Ł5 the instant you walk in the door. He will then ask you the traditional question, which is "Do you have a reservation?" You may answer "Yes" or "No". Either way, he will scrutinize a piece of paper in front of him as though it has something to do with the restaurant, although it actually lists the rosters of all the Chicago White Sox teams since 1946. Then, no matter how empty or full the restaurant is, he will say, "Your table will be ready in 10 minutes." This traditional restaurant jest always draws an appreciative snicker from the employees hunkering back in the gloom, wearing grease-stained rental uniforms. The maitre d' will then ask, "Would you care to wait in the cocktail lounge?" The correct answer here is "Yes." If you answer "No thanks, we'll just wait here and eat these little mints," you will get your table about the time the United States establishes permanent colonies on Neptune. In the cocktail lounge, you will be monitored by infrared devices, and as soon as you have ordered, but not received, your second round of drinks, a uniformed person will inform you that your table is ready. Tip him Ł5. The maitre d' will then lead you to a table right next to the screen that the waiters duck behind to blow their noses. Tip him Ł10. Your waiter will then sidle up to your table and say, "My name is Bernard and it will be my pleasure to serve you in an obsequious manner tonight." Tip him Ł5. Now comes the part where things have really changed since the last time you ate out. In the old days, menus were easy to understand. They looked like this: Meat ............. Ł5.95 Fish ............. Ł4.95 Chicken .......... Ł3.95 Spaghetti ........ Ł2.95 In those days, you'd mull over the menu for a while, and then you'd say, "I'll have the meat," or "I'll have the fish," and the waiter would say, "Excellent choice." It is much more complicated now. Your modern restaurant menu is written in French and Middle English. You'll see maybe two dozen items like this: Pleuve en Voiture =========================== (Scrumpets in Harrow Sauce) Ł26.95 While you are sitting there staring at the menu and trying to avoid letting on that the only word you understand is "menu", the waiter will make the following speech: "Tonight we are out of everything on the menu, but we do have some very nice specials. For our appetizers, we have an excellent Tete de Chou au Sucre Flambe, which is a head of cabbage covered with sugar and set on fire. We have a very fine Poisson Sacre Bleu, which is a Norwegian fluke minced into very small pieces and stirred until dawn with attractive utensils. We have a very nice Quelle Dommage, which is a mussel defiled in a lemon sauce. We have a superb Papier du Chien dans la Cage, which is..." This speech will go on for maybe 10 minutes, after which you should tip your waiter Ł10 and say, "I'll have the meat." Next the wine steward will hand you the wine list, and help you make your selection: You: "How is this Ł12-a-bottle wine?" Wine Steward: "We use that primarily as a disinfectant." You: "Oh. Well, then, we'll have something expensive, please." Wine Steward: "Excellent choice." When the wine steward returns with your wine, he will pour some into your glass. You should take a little sip, then nod in a meek and grateful fashion, unless the wine is unsatisfactory, in which case you should still nod in a meek and grateful fashion, because if you complain, he will stab you repeatedly in the eyeball with his corkscrew. Tip him Ł15. The first food course to arrive will be your salad. Your modern high-class restaurant salad does not contain tomatoes or cucumbers, nor does it contain those wide, smooth healthy-looking leaves of lettuce you purchase at the supermarket in spheres. Your modern high-class restaurant salad consists of a few fronds of a darkish, kelp-like plant that has clearly forgotten everything it ever knew about photosynthesis. Nevertheless, you should make every effort to choke it down (using the extreme left-hand fork), because your main course, especially if it has a French name, is going to consist of maybe two square inches of a thickly sliced food substance, accompanied by a sprig of parsley placed there by the kitchen staff as a test of your common sense ("Look!" they shout, crowding around the kitchen window. "He's EATING it!"). After your main course has been served, your waiter will wait until you have placed a wad of food in your mouth, then he will sidle up and say, "Is everything to your satisfaction?" Your should nod and smile in a meek and grateful fashion and try to say, "Just fine, thanks," without letting any partially masticated food dribble onto your clothing. Then slip him a fiver. The size of the tip you leave at the end of your meal depends on the quality of the service. Ordinarily, you should leave between 15 and 20 percent of the cost of sending three children through the University of London medical school, but feel free to increase this amount if the waiter has performed any special service, such as not spitting in your food.