Perhaps on an 18 month medical mission to Habana the customer stumbled upon an old bartender who made drinks for Papa and Papa, in between punching journalists and stroking cats, taught him the Secret of the Low Carb Mojito. Perhaps the customer was a Castro-era exchange student and just prefers acerbic cocktails.Anthony Bourdain, much maligned but always entertaining, writes and speaks eloquently about submitting to the house. Checking your preconceptions at the door. The theory allows for asking the manager to turn down the music, but asks you to leave your cd's in the car. Alerting the server of your allergy to peanuts is sensible; requesting every sauce, dressing and glaze on the side is tedious. If you just want to give orders perhaps you should stay home and hire a cook. And waitress. And bartender. Or you could walk into a restaurant/bar and let them serve you. That requires trust and an open mind.
Back to the habana-phile. We can only hope there were three people at Table 1 otherwise the low carb mojito would be off set by the decidedly high carb beers.
And of course the rum has its own nutritional baggage, but what's striking about this request is the wrestling with reality. This is a simple drink, with simple ingredients: rum, muddled mint, lime and sugar, finished with soda. Take away too many of the ingredients and the drink ceases.
Having smirked at the special order I still appreciated the challenge. And I was happy to see the low carb glass returned a few minutes later, empty. Must have been good.
Overheard
"I know a little about the stereos."
- DL un-ironically troubleshooting the house hi-fi.
"Where'd you go to high school?" CR
"Lowell." New Guy
"That's all Asians and Jews." CR
"Actually, I'm Jewish." New Guy
"So you know what I mean." CR, not PC but would give Asians and Jews the shirt off his back.
"I would like a glass of diet wine - but pink or red won't go with my outfit, so make it white, OK? And do you serve french fries? NO?!?! Ok, then a bowl of pasta - supersize it please - and don't forget to bring me the parmesan cheese - and remember to leave the bowl at my table. And the bread, please with lots of butter - NO! not olive oil, BUTTER! Thanks you sweetie - what's your name? Justin, well Justin you are cute...I'm glad you're serving me...now you can ask what my guests would like..."
ReplyDeleteYou get the idea. Part of the drill with a restaurant is the customers share the staff. We are rightly criticized for spending too much time on any one table. But it goes both ways. If the customer monopolizes the server's time they are effectively stealing it from another patron.
ReplyDeleteAs for J. he has developed something of a cult following. A month ago a woman tried persistently to give away her twin, 20 year old daughters. When he declined she asked me to intervene on her/their behalf, going so far as to show me a photo. He has another groupie who owns a bar in the neighborhood. She enters and immediate;y starts asking, "Where's J?" If he's not working she refuses to believe it, instead wandering around the room calling out his name as though he were a lost dog.
For the record, J's loyalty to his girlfriend is admirable but silly. Everybody knows you don't turn down twins especially with the mother's approval.