"What will you be having this evening," I asked, knowing full well that the couple had not so much as acknowledged the menus on the table. I do that as a friendly sort of hey-I-have-things-to-do-so-please-consider-what-you-want reminder. Otherwise, people get so wrapped up in examining the art pieces or swirling their expertly decanted wine that they forget they have to order dinner.
Maybe it is a result of our doing everything else for them; we take their coats, push in their chairs, and pour their wine. By the time ordering food comes around, I believe they expect we will go ahead and do that part for them too. Hell, we might as well wipe their chins when they have finished.
After a puzzled look from the gentleman, he seemed at last to comprehend the question. "Oh. Yes. We'd like an appetizer. Preferably something with a lot of meat," he joked, and we all shared a hearty laugh. That type of humor, though, had ceased provoking a genuine laugh from me around the time I waited my fourth table.
I had endured several years of the same jokes, recycled and spit at me with such regularity that I had my own, equally unfunny responses prepared. It is true that I often find myself grumbling about unpleasant guests, but the 40-something couple before me was especially irritating, bordering on intolerable.
To start, the man's necktie was ridiculous. Sir, do you know where you are, I thought. We require a Windsor knot at minimum. If you cannot complete the basic task of tying a respectable knot, please spare us looking at it and eat somewhere else. Or is that our responsibility as well, immediately following removing and checking your coat?
Not to be outdone, his charming wife wore a pair of wedges, those awful shoes that are a cross between high heels and cork board. Originally intended as heels for women who cannot walk in heels (my own theory), wedges have become a fashion trend in recent years, one that both horrifies and baffles me.
Again to myself, I fumed, Something with meat? Maybe you could have read the goddamn menu we have so generously provided. "Well, I can definitely recommend the Saigon Rolls. Jam packed with meat," I offered, this time out loud, shamelessly lowering myself to this pair's wretched level of unintelligent humor.
"Oh, great! What are Saigon Rolls," he prodded. A fair question, I suppose, for someone who has never dined here. They obviously had not, as evidenced by the disgracefully simple knot of his necktie. Anyway, it was no trouble to describe the dish; I can relay every small detail about Saigon Rolls in my sleep (and I have been told that I do).
"Great question! Saigon Rolls are Vietnamese style spring rolls. Braised pork, plancha grilled rib-eye, and soy butter Maya shrimp are combined with baby bok choy, Chinese red cabbage, and hoisin marinated shiitake mushrooms to create a perfectly balanced roll. They are flash fried in a combination of sesame and peanut oil until crispy and golden brown. They are served on a bed of arugula and Korean seaweed and finished with a wasabi vinaigrette and fresh salmon roe."
The couple stared at me, bewildered at what complex and unintelligible language I had subjected them to. Noticing their discomfort, I decided I must press on. Yes, I had other things to do, but this clownish duo with their basic four-in-hand tie knot and astonishingly unsophisticated footwear could not be anymore clueless. I hated them. So, I continued on, adding a touch of my own type of humor.
"We also have a very special offering for this weekend only. Pulled Alaskan King Crab steamed and then baked in a kimchee aioli, tossed in our chef's own spicy pterodactyl glaze, and served on a house-made seaweed and mint leaf crust."
Completely lost now, this Beau Brummel of penny loafers ordered whatever it was I had just described. He had most assuredly done so only so that this torture could be ended immediately. Alas, I had not finished illustrating to the abominable tandem of clientele just how out of their element they had ventured.
I went on, "Or, if you are in the mood for something a little more traditional, this time of year we offer the Legumes et de petoncles. A seven cheese fondue accompanies this beautiful medley of seasonal vegetables and green tea marinated Scandinavian salt water scallops, aged in a local P.O. box for four weeks and then stir fried with mango and jalapeno salsa.
"I think we'll just have that one you mentioned before," he interrupted, reeling at what he thought he had just heard me say.
Quite intentionally failing to acknowledge his decision, I offered yet another suggestion. "But my personal favorite is the bocadillos para perro grasso. Locally sourced cadaver dumplings filled with minced North American husky and truffles that we have submerged in the Chicago river. The dumplings are steamed in small adobe huts and served with a sweet potato and Peruvian pumpkin mousse. Finally, the dish is drizzled with a Smeagol reduction sauce and achiote seed oil for a pleasant, peppery smokiness.
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