You’re Such a Good Cook You Need to Slap Yourself

Okay. I’m sure you are a phenomenal cook! You should have your own show on the Food Channel, your own restaurant and all that jazz. But in the mean time, you’ve come to eat at the restaurant that I work at. And I need to enlighten you on a few things as far as how (and by whom) the food is prepared.

Point of Enlightenment #1: I do not cook the food that you eat at my restaurant. In fact, I pretty much can’t cook at all! So, when you go into an elaborate dissertation about the way the cook should have seasoned the meat, the way they should have diced the vegetables, the way you always marinate things and so on and so on-Halt! Cease and desist! It means nothing to me! Literally nothing. I know less than zero about marinades, seasonings, dicing or slicing. Perhaps if we’re discussing a sandwich I can hold up my end of the conversation. A good ratio of Sara Lee lunch meat to Kraft singles is something I consider myself to be a bit of an expert on. But as soon as we delve into the area of sandwiches that contain grilled meats and toasted buns (as all of our sandwiches do), then that’s it, I’ve got to tap out.

Point of Enlightenment #2: See, here’s the thing. I can list all of the ingredients in the foods we serve, because they force us to memorize them as part of the hire-in process. I can tell you that we grill everything on a flat top grill. Stuff like that. But of you want to debate the various methods of how the cook goes about conducting said grilling, again, that’s a tap out on my end. What you really need to do is talk to the cook. But you can’t, because that isn’t allowed at just about any of your typical sit-down restaurants. They don’t let you march back to the kitchen and give the cook a crash course on cooking things the way you do it at home. Sorry.

Point of Enlightenment #3: It doesn’t matter how much of my time (and the time of the other tables around you in my section; more on The Customer Who Believes They Are the Only Customer in the Restaurant in another post) you take up with a detailed explanation of how you cook steak that you expect me to go back and relay to the cooks- you’re just wasting your breath along with my time (and that of the other hungry customers). I’m not going to tell the cook the instructions you just gave me, because s/he will laugh at me at best, or tell me off in a worst case scenario. I’m not in the mood for either reaction, because the ultimate result will be the same. S/he will cook your steak according to the rules, regulations, and specifications of this restaurant. That is the job of a restaurant cook! If you want it medium, you’ll get it medium. But if you want it mediumish with a hint of med well, beaten three times on one side and five on the other, with a dash of Lawry’s seasoning, a soupcon of paprika and a kiss of honey, then go home and make it that way! I’m sure it will taste awesome.

Point of Enlightenment #4: I cannot stand there and monitor your steak so that it comes out in between medium and med well. A customer actually asked me to do that. I told her that we could do her steak medium, which for us is pink all the way through, or we could do it med-well, which is a thin strip of pink in the middle. She informed me that she wanted it to be in-between those two. When I informed her that the cook could only do one or the other, she demanded that I stand at the grill and stop him when the steak was in between medium and med-well. She was serious. I painstakingly and politely explained to her that was never going to happen, and then went in the back and had a serious laugh about the misguided sense of over-entitlement that people can have. Here’s the deal: most restaurants do well, med-well, medium, med-rare, and rare. Period. If you want med-med-rare, well, see the italicized statement above in point #3.

Folks, here’s the bottom line. I work in the service industry. I want to make you happy, I truly do. But our cooks are not personal chefs, and if you are such a diva that you need one, I suggest you find a way to afford one. And if you can’t stomach a meal unless it tastes like your food or the sumptuous eats your momma always makes, then don’t go out to eat. Because your momma doesn’t expect a tip.