Most Hospitable/Gracious Restaurant Practices

Just so happens that I’m reading 3 titles about the server profession:

Your Table is Ready by Michael Cecchi-Azzolina
I bounced off this one 1/2 way thru-- he’s a legend in his own mind but now that I’ve finished the 2nd one I’ll give it another shot.

Waiter to the Rich and Shameless: Confessions of a Five-Star Beverly Hills…
by Paul Hartford
It’s a non-stop litany of “OMG, I’m serving famous name!” The author uses “gracious” & “graciousness” a lot. I finished it-- with a lot of skimming, gets too repetitive. I did like it.

Waitress: a memoir by Angel Woolery
I’m about 1/3rd thru it & like it the best of the 3 so far. It’s all short bits of both horrible & gracious behavior from the customers & graciousness from her.

All 3 are available in Kindle Unlimited.

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There was a restaurant in Korçë, Albania that accepted about four different currencies for my dinner, since I didn’t have enough lek.

n.b. their baklava was brilliant. Seemed like it had some barley in the phyllo, but I’ve got to be mistaken.

While scanning the drinks list of a restaurant in Boston, I noticed a port at $45 a glass, and it happened to be one that one of my guests brought to a NYE dinner a few weeks before; it was superb! I discussed it briefly with the waiter, then asked for a main course recommendation. He suggested Baeckeoffe, a specialty from Alsace. He said that the chef was from Alsace and made it only occasionally. So I ordered it.

I was less than pleased with it as it was a few tough pieces of meat swimming in a thin, tasteless broth, and covered with a pastry top. When the waiter asked for my opinion, I told him what I thought of it. At that, he looked alarmed. He said that it was the chef’s pride and joy, the chef sometimes came out to get the diner’s opinion, and that he’d be really mad if I said I didn’t like it. So he proposed that he’d give me a glass of that port free, to lie to the chef if he did come out. For that port I could be bought, so I agreed, and enjoyed the port. The chef did not come out.

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This was back in 2001 or 2002 - my mother and I went to Ireland. We mostly ate in local pubs, but one place we stayed was the Cashel House Hotel in Cashel, Connemara, Co. Galway, because I wanted one “nice dinner”.

Back then, Mom would have a single drink before dinner; on very very rare occasion, two. Prior to our dinner, we went into a small, beautiful dark wood bar near the dining area to have a before-dinner drink. We were the only ones in there, so the bartender was chatty, as was Mom.

Since we were in Ireland, she wanted a Jameson’s whiskey, which she’d often have with her late husband. She savored it, telling the bartender she was enjoying it in Ireland more than she did in the States. The bartender asked if she’d like to try another brand so she’d get a good round of Irish whiskeys. She waffled on it, but I told her “Go on - we can sleep in tomorrow!” So he brought over a small pour of another whiskey. After tasting it, her eyes got huge and said “Oh, Linda - you need to try this!” When I sipped it, I was floored at the smoothness and delightful taste. I looked at him and said it was amazing.

When I went to pay the bar tab, I noted that there were only two drinks on the bill - Mom’s original Jameson’s and my glass of wine. He winked at me and said the extra whiskey for Mom was on the house, as he enjoyed seeing her enjoy her drink so much. I made sure to tip him well, even without knowing the price of the gifted whiskey.

I later looked up the price of the glass he gave her - it was somewhere around $50 USD (somewhere near $85/glass in today’s dollars). Suffice to say, it was one of the many nice occurrences we had from very nice people we met while in Ireland. And Mom slept VERY well after two whiskeys that night!

Unfortunately, the name of the gifted whiskey is lost to the ether, unless Mom wrote about it in a little travel diary she kept while we traveled through western Ireland and up the coast to Northern Ireland. I’ll have to see if I have that in my things of hers.

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Your story captures perfectly not only the power of hospitality, but why it’s so powerful. Even if it’s a universal or common gesture, it’s deeply and personally felt in the best of ways. It’s something that goes straight to the soul memory, where the inhospitable can never go.

How would you feel if tomorrow you were driving through Cashel? I bet your heart would leap, and your feet force you back into that bar. That’s what hospitality does.

That’s why restaurants’ petty annoyances (and people’s defenses of them) irk me so…

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Very nice dinner by the looks of it. And a bargain at €60.

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IIRC, I had lamb (because…HELLO! Irish lamb!) and Mom had salmon (another HELLO!). The meal was certainly less than that amount in 2002, but it was still more than the meals at pubs along the way. I was astonished to convert the €60 to USD and see it’s about the same - $64.50 in today’s dollars.

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If/when I go back to Ireland, it would be a guaranteed stop along the way for a night’s stay.

The fact that I still remember their hospitality 20-some odd years later shows that good memories stay with you, especially when it happens with someone who is no longer with you. As you said - it went to and stayed in my soul memory.

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Way way back in 1990 on my honeymoon. The Rabbit Hill Inn in Lower Waterford, VT. It also happened to be my birthday. The inn chef found out and made a special chocolate cake for dessert that evening, just for me.

More recently, the local bakery (Moonbelly, Sacramento, CA) makes the BEST croissants. I’ve taken to stopping in a couple of times a month to pick them up as a weekend treat. One of the staff recognized me, said “The croissants JUST came out. We shouldn’t sell them 'til they’ve cooled a bit, but I’ll give you yours if you PROMISE to wait 30 minutes before you eat 'em…”

Actually, now that I think of it, any place where I’ve become a recognizable ‘regular’ always seems to get me just the tiniest little perk like that to make a day brighter. At my old place, the Chinese joint across the highway would throw in an extra couple of almond cookies (Jennie Low’s, Novato CA). The sandwich shop near my old office always gave me the warmest possible roll because they knew I loved them that way.

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Now that’s real class.

Amen! We used to go out with a couple that ended up being too cringey to stay in contact with because they routinely looked for or made up reasons why they should be comped for something. Too embarrassing by half. And they were horrendous tippers, too.

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I visited Chicago for the first time last fall, on business. On one of the evenings, I was at a quiet bar in the Loop, and after having the cocktail I ordered I asked the bartender if I could try a shot of Jeppson’s Malort, as I’d heard enough about it to want to try it. After confirming that I really wanted it, he gave me the shot gratis, and after I drained it he was impressed enough to offer me a free shot of Mexican Fernet-Branca. (Which I didn’t like, because I don’t like Fernet. When I said I liked the Malort better, he said no one had ever told him that before.)

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I love the practice of avvinare: preparing or seasoning the glass for wine. First saw it at del Posto in Manhattan, where they also had a small stool for handbags placed next to the diner’s chair. Another lovely touch.

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This speaks as much about you as it does these generous hosts/purveyors.

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