Serious diners may revile the open restaurant kitchen as noisy and passé, but the worst behaved among them should thank their lucky stars for the unfortified layout. After all, it's much harder for a server to spit in their food with everyone in the room watching.
But no amount of interior decorating can stop servers from taking revenge on their most miserable customers. Cads who pat their servers' behinds and cheapskates who order water, sugar and lemon instead of paying for lemonade should know their hijinks don't go unnoticed: Even the sweetest-seeming server will punish offenses at the table -- usually smiling all the while.
Spitting gets all the press, but few servers at sit-down restaurants like to mess with bodily fluids: Spitting's considered a rather déclassé and uninspired way of getting back at customers. Savvy restaurant workers aim for pocketbooks, not their guests' immune systems.
In retrospect, it all sounds like something out of one of those strange dreams where everyone you watched on TV during the day converge into one subliminal place -- and Bret Michaels was there, and so was Rod Blagojevich! And Sinbad was taking Al Roker's drink order while Joan Rivers recommended the $100 burger. Oh Auntie Em, there's no place like home!
In reality, it was just another day in the life of a "Celebrity Apprentice."
When Slashfood received word through the grapevine that our very own "Star Chef" Curtis Stone was serving up gourmet cheeseburgers for charity at Burger Heaven on Monday, we had to go and root for the home team.
Professional chefs prepare and enjoy a huge variety of different foods, some familiar to the rest of us, some beyond our usual pantry options, unless you're prone to stocking huitalacoche ( aka corn fungus), beef cheeks and tomato foam.
But even though they possess adventurous palates and have the opportunity to try ingredients and dishes from far and wide, that doesn't mean they like everything they eat. They all have one or two foods that just don't do it for them, their own personal food Kryptonite.
Slashfood asked some of the country's top chefs which edibles top their "thanks, but no thanks" list.
Rachael Ray
The ubiquitous Rachael Ray is famous for transforming all kinds of foods into 30-minute meals, but she has a serious aversion to mayonnaise. "Mayo is a four-letter word to me and I avoid using it when I can. It's all about that texture. I even make a no-mayonnaise potato salad is perfect for picnics since you don't have to worry about spoiling."
Just like heroic epics and Hollywood romances, server horror stories tend to unfold according to a very specific formula: Server meets guests. Guests like server. Server takes order. Server disappears.
While servers who spill coffee on their guests or forget to bring an extra fork are generally forgiven, there's no redemption for servers who vanish. Without their server in sight, guests feel neglected, trapped and exasperated by the entire eating-out experience. It's a rotten situation, which is why most diners who've posted here about terrible service have admitted to at some point wondering where their server went.
Assuming that question is sometimes posed sincerely, I offer here a few solutions to the Case of the Missing Server. Note that these explanations aren't excuses: Great servers don't go AWOL, ever. But there are many rational reasons, unapparent to guests, why servers can't be found. He or she just might be ...
1. Splitting checks. Here's one task that's become more laborious with the advent of computers. To prevent employee theft, most electronic point-of-sale systems are designed to make shifting guest tabs a tricky, multi-step process. Woe to the server who accidentally sticks Seat 3's fried wonton app on Seat 4's bill: On some popular systems, such an error can only be corrected by recombining the entire check and starting over. Creating six separate checks -- and gathering up six pens for signing them -- can take a server off the floor for up to five minutes (which, to a guest waiting for an iced tea refill, feels like an hour).
There's a reason most restaurants keep the kitchen doors closed -- and it's not just because it's so hot back there.
It can be tough for restaurateurs to turn a profit and Slashfood has uncovered some of the ultra-dirty deeds even the best restaurants commit in order to pinch pennies.
Read on for 10 true stories about the subtle, sneaky and sometimes downright disgusting ways restaurants cheat to save a buck -- and how you might be paying the price.
'Cooking With Pumpkins and Squash' By Brian Glover Photography by Peter Cassidy Ryland Peteres & Small -- 2008 Buy it on Amazon
Despite early fall's T-shirt weather and last-summer's-hurrah barbecues, Brian Glover's "Cooking With Pumpkins and Squash" beckoned. Although it largely consists of hot autumn colors and warming recipes, this exquisite cold-weather cookbook could not sit one week in the kitchen before we cracked.
We blame Glover's seductive prose: "Some flavors stand out as having a real affinity with squashes and pumpkins of all shapes and sizes; their nutty sweetness works well with salty tastes such as goat cheese, feta and olives..." His understanding of squash's potential as an adaptable base -- to be spiked with other bold ingredients and not merely to be devoured on its own -- intrigued us.
Though many niche cookbooks devoted to a particular ingredient can be characterized as too centric toward their subject, "Cooking With Pumpkins and Squash" reveals refreshingly complex recipes with unexpected flavors. "Light bites" recipes like Grilled Zucchini, Halloumi and Fava Beans with Tomato and Mint Dressing expertly showcase and complement the light, springy flavor of summer squash, while heartier entrées like the Pumpkin Risotto with Pancetta and Sage suit the rich, silky texture of pumpkin and butternut squash.
See what we tested and find out whether the book's worth buying after the jump.
British-born, New York-based freelance journalist Mark Ellwood has spent most of his life traveling the globe in pursuit of the finest fashion, furnishings and food. In this brand new series for Slashfood, he highlights the distinctive regional cuisines of his adopted country.
Photo: image415, flickr
Rhode Island is like a gourmet Galapagos, a tiny patch of water-hemmed land that's evolved a separate culture from its surroundings. There are state-specific brands like Del's Lemonade and Autocrat Coffee Syrup, Rhody recipes for jonnycakes and stuffies and even localized tweaks on American staples; only in Rhode Island could clear clam chowder come with an add-to-taste jug of heavy cream to placate visiting Bostonians.
Given locals' culinary passion, it's no wonder this is where the diner was invented by Walter Scott in 1872, who piled up a horse-drawn wagon with pies and sandwiches and stationed it in front of the Providence Journal offices.
How did the smallest state in the union -- barely 1,000 square miles of land -- develop such aggressive, idiosyncratic tastes? In part, thanks to its origins.
"We have this very independent spirit; it's historic, going right back to Williams," explains Linda Beaulieu, author of "The Providence and Rhode Island Cookbook." Indeed, Roger Williams founded the outpost as a rebellion against the Massachusetts Bay Colony's hardline conformism, and that rebellious independence has ricocheted down through Rhode Island's history -- and menus. "Chain restaurants don't do well here at all. In fact a year or two ago, the Red Lobster closed -- people just didn't support it."
Stuffies and quahogs, anyone? Explore more of Rhode Island's culinary offerings after the jump.
"What the hell is that?" is the first question many non-Texans ask when they see the goopy Southwestern cheese dip chile con queso (queso for short and pronounced "kay-so"). The prevalent and heralded form of queso is a mixture of Velveeta and Ro*Tel canned tomatoes and chiles. It's usually orange, flecked with red and green chiles, and a crust forms when the dip begins to cool. At the risk of being run out of town: What's so good about that?
When queried, this writer's wife, a Texas native, her relatives and friends answer along the lines of "it's just so good!" Queso is good; so is cow's brains. Queso is creamy and spicy and won't run off a tortilla chip like other salsas. Crucial to understanding the dip is the facility with which it is prepared. Ready in five minutes, it's a fiesta favorite. Are there Texans at a party you're hosting? Whip out the queso and welcome the adulation. "It's just so good!"
Another reason is Lone Star pride. "Texans have a special place in their hearts for queso and Ro*Tel. Both originated in the state," says Mike Locascio, vice president and general manager at ConAgra Foods, Ro*Tel's manufacturer.
Cool and creamy broccoli soup. Photo: Brent Ridge, Beekman 1802.
Brent Ridge and Josh Kilmer-Purcell are the farmers and innovators behind Beekman 1802, a 200-year-old estate and farm in upstate New York. We'll be running recipes, photos and tales from the farm as their crops come into season.
When we were younger, our moms had to work really hard to get us to eat broccoli. First they became magical, miniature trees. Then once we wised up to that, it had to be camouflaged with something like melted Velveeta or ranch dressing.
Now we don't think broccoli needs much adornment at all. In fact, we are so prone to picking and eating it right in the garden that it often never actually makes it to the kitchen.
Our heirloom broccoli and an amazing recipe after the jump.
Want to really confuse your server? Leave a 15-percent tip.
There's nothing more ambiguous than the 15-percent tip, which could just as well be a "thanks for nothing" grat from a miffed diner who always leaves 20 percent or a sincere show of gratitude from an infrequent restaurantgoer who thinks 15 percent is still the going rate for good service. Only the tipper knows for sure.
Fortunately for servers, fewer customers today seem to fall into the latter category, which is now mostly populated by the very old and very stubborn. Surveys show the vast majority of Americans have transitioned away from the 15-percent standard which ruled the food and beverage industry for decades, with the national average tip rising to 19 percent in 2008.
Even as a little boy I was a champion of diversity. I didn't care if the onion was white, yellow or red. I liked them all. My favorite meal at grandma's house was her onion sandwich: thin slices of onion, two slices of bread and a generous layer of Duke's mayonnaise.
Fortunately for all of you, my tastes are a little more sophisticated now, though sophisticated and simple are not mutually exclusive when it comes to good recipes. Have you ever thought about combining savory caramelized onions, tangy blue cheese and sweet, juicy slices of apple? I hadn't either, until our friend (and former Martha Stewart Everyday Food editor Sandy Gluck) made the suggestion. The result was a delicious and decadent onion tart that will impress every single person at your table.
Chardonnay is one of the most-planted wine grapes in the world (second in whites only to Arien, a Spanish variety, according to Jancis Robinson's "Oxford Companion to Wine"). The grape behind both crisp, acidic Chablis and rich, creamy California Chards can be made into some of the most expensive (Champagne) and least expensive (Two-Buck Chuck) vinos in the world.
As with people, Chardonnay is full of surprises.
After the jump, five Chardonnays under $15 that showcase the grape's full range of flavors -- and a question for my fellow oenophiles.
It's practically raining zucchini in the month of August, but there are only so many nights you can serve it sautéed. Since zucchini has a mild flavor and plenty of liquid, it's ideal for sweet recipes because it helps baked goods stay moist, like applesauce does.
Since seeing the mounds of butter and melted chocolate oozing across the screen in "Julie and Julia," I've been craving an indulgent chocolate dessert. So I made this rich, dark molten cake that's crusty on top and soft and melted in the center. Adding a little zucchini is a great way to skim back a little on the fat and sugar.
Get Jennifer's Molten Chocolate Cake recipe after the jump.
Hanna Raskin's first waitressing job was at a small Greek diner in Michigan. In the 15 years since, she's worked at a chop suey joint in Mississippi, an exclusive Arizonan country club, a vegetarian eatery and an Irish pub. She currently picks up odd shifts at a seafood eatery in the North Carolina mountains, where she cracks crab legs for helpless tourists. This is the seventh in a series of posts.
At my restaurant, each server is issued a service-station style workshirt with his or her name neatly scripted above the left breast pocket. It's a homey touch (albeit one that's largely subverted by my colleagues' propensity to wear someone else's shirt.)
Most servers aren't all that eager to reveal their names to their customers, since there's nothing more irritating than hearing someone repeatedly shriek your name when you're standing 20 yards away. The most undignified aspects of serving seem somehow even more demeaning when paired with one's own name (as in: "Hanna, will you clean up this mess my son made?" or "Hanna, I want you to cut the crusts off my sandwich.")
Worse still, a name is just a gateway drug for prying patrons, who figure that once they're on a first-name basis with you, they're welcome to inquire after your education, age and marital status.
Brent Ridge and Josh Kilmer-Purcell are the farmers and innovators behind Beekman 1802, a 200-year-old estate and farm in upstate New York. We'll be running recipes, gorgeous photos and tales from the farm as their crops come into season.
We can almost taste the sugary goodness of our sweet corn already. Those poor non-gardeners have no idea what true corn should taste like. Even when purchased in a farmers' market, it's never at its peak. Sweet corn begins converting its sugars to starch from the moment it's picked. Some estimate that 80 percent of its sugar is converted within the first four hours.
So only we gardeners can truly sing the praises of our ears. While it's hard to improve upon the near-perfect taste of corn on the cob with a little salt and butter, we think we've come pretty darn close with this "corn chowder" salad.
Recipe and a bit about our heirloom corn, after the jump.