Things I Don’t Get — Restaurant Edition
Or as Durante Would Say — Stop Da Music!
I love eating out (alas, I can’t afford dining out) — steakhouse, seafood restaurant, burger joint, diner, Italian, teppanyaki — I’m easy. But there are things about the restaurant experience I just don’t get.
Music
There was music at feasts in ancient Rome (it was a good time to be a lute player), and in fancy restaurants, there used to be a pianist playing soft music in the background. Then somebody decided that every restaurant should have music.
But this is not quiet piano music. This is some talent-challenged guy (it’s always a guy) caterwauling with his amp dialed up to 11. The excruciating decibel level makes conversation impossible (and can burst eardrums).
And bear in mind (which is better than a bear chasing you) that restaurants are cacophonous to begin with — high ceilings with exposed ductwork, and hard surfaces that amplify sound. Add loud patrons and your head can explode even without music.
Speaking of loud patrons, I’ve noticed that in a loud group, there is always an alpha blaster — a guy with an operatic baritone or a gal with a shrieking laugh. Anyway, why does anybody enjoy the “music” experience while eating?
And it’s got to be depressing for the performer, bellowing his heart out with nobody paying attention.
And in some restaurants, the music experience is even more horrific than the talent-challenged guy caterwauling with his amp dialed up to 11. An Italian restaurant we patronize has a rotund middle-aged fellow butchering Sinatra songs at your table!
And a Mexican restaurant we patronize features the world’s oldest mariachi player bringing his guitar to every table and bawling out songs and encouraging everyone at the table to howl “Ay, ay, ay, ay.”
And once we had the misfortune of going to a restaurant on karaoke night. So we had to endure patrons with less talent than the talent-challenged guy, all caterwauling into a hand mike with the amp dialed up to 11.
Can’t I just eat in peace?
Eating Outside
Everybody wants to dine outside. Why? You have to contend with bugs and wind. And that’s if the restaurant has a nice patio overlooking a vineyard or water. But every hole-in-the-wall eatery now has a “patio,” often in a parking lot, where traffic noise and fumes bedevil you along with the bugs and the wind.
My wife and I went to a restaurant called Bahama Breeze. There was a long covered patio, on which patrons were jammed shoulder to shoulder. It reminded me of the old fad of stuffing telephone booths,
And of course, there was a talent-challenged guy caterwauling with his amp dialed up to 11. And it was hot and humid. These people had to be suffering (they sure weren’t socializing). We ate inside where it was blessedly empty and blessedly quiet.
A few years ago we went to a restaurant in Manhattan. The restaurant was on a traffic-choked, crowded street, but there were tables and chairs in front of the restaurant — on the sidewalk!
So patrons gagged on noxious fumes from cars and trucks and had their brains turned to guacamole by the din of traffic. And yet there were patrons! Needless to say, we dined inside.
Ciabatta Bread
Every sandwich is now served on ciabatta bread. I have nothing against ciabatta bread but it’s not good for sandwiches. The crust is hard and the bread is very chewy. Can’t I have a nice Kaiser roll?
Well, chacun à son goût, as they say. Actually, I never heard anybody say that. But as long as I can get to a restaurant before the music starts, and as long as I can dine in air-conditioned comfort, I’m happy.
But what’s with these point-of-service tablets on your table that bully you into tipping 30%? Well, that’s for another rant.
