You too can piss off a chef
Foodies (enjoy, sorry) are very grown up lately. From a couple of years here and a little because today every gastronome is a medium (or so the gurus say) and every enjoyer a dangerous food critic armed with his little notebook, his blog and his iPhone with Instagram to the bars of photos of plates (and kittens) with Amaro filter.
That we are (we think we are, wow) important, wow . That because we release four nonsense on Twitter we go for the lives of the heirs of José Carlos Capel or Don Carlos Maribona. And that is not like that". This -exactly this- a good cook friend told me after dispatching the last customer at six in the evening, cooked after three gin and tonics and a couple of phone fights with the relative. "You are unbearable" she released me. No hot cloths. And I, who owe myself to the cause (to eat well, the only one that interests me) signed that "You are unbearable" in my Moleskine and started to pull the thread I spoke with two more professionals (another cook and a room manager, two in Madrid and one in Valencia) of this sector so given to easy epics and mid-afternoon dramas . You will forgive me not to publish your name, but the answers to the question: What things do you not tolerate from clients?
1) Make a reservation, don't show up and don't even call. The number one complaint light years ahead of the rest. The maximum degree of tocapelotismo to which a client can arrive: leave planted the cook. At the altar at two in the afternoon (with the restaurant full) that's how good the slamming door feels in the kitchen: René Redzepi and his team explain it best.
2) The fucking -sic- mobile. The mobile has reached inexplicable dimensions. And there are times when the room seems like a symphony of Marimbas, Twitter mentions and WhatsApp groups thundering mercilessly. But the saddest thing is not that: the saddest thing is to see how a dinner for two ends up being the story of two guys glued to their smartphone . Without even looking at each other's faces.
3) Talk to your table and to the tables next to you. The decibel level that a table of buddies can reach (emphasizing the masculine character, I have my doubts here) after four drinks is comparable to what would come out of a hotel room with Nicolas Cage, Belén Esteban, Torrente and four grams of farlopa There is no point that embarrasses me more than this.
4) Fragrance at discretion. Or those chonis (and not so chonis) that stink up the room with their perfume preventing any slight hint of enjoyment before the aromas that are planted on your table and at neighboring tables. And a note: cheap perfume almost always translates into a loud table (point 3). That's how predictable we are, folks.
5) The impatient. (Rude, I add) Or that client who starts eating in the middle of explaining the dish, that one who is peeling whatever you have to say and whose only objective is to gobble up the manduca . If you want a sandwich, go to a sandwich bar.
6) Tips. The taboo subject. Either you tip or you don't tip, as easy as that . "What we can't stand is the diner who leaves 20 cents and makes it very clear that they already charge enough with these prices!" The burden of conscience is repaired at twelve o'clock mass -or wherever you do it- but not in the restaurant.
7) The gourmets (the clever ones) with reason in their mouths. The wine "expert" who has taken a couple of tasting courses, the "understood" customer who, after listening to the sommelier's advice, denies him the major, the stuffy gourmet who cooks better than Quique Dacosta and corrects each dish ("He lacks a point of cooking, and perhaps with a lobster fumet around here...") as if his life depended on it. The one who spares your life for doing your job.
8) Digital vendettas. We all have a bad day, Susana (not her real name) tells me, days when we know the service is lousy; because we slept badly, because yesterday we signed the divorce papers or because they cracked us with the 303. So few hurt as much as coming home and seeing that horrible day is crowned with a devastating review on Tripadvisor (who says Tripadvisor says 11870, Verema, Google+ Local or the third party social network). Especially if it was the first time he stepped foot in the restaurant.
9) The Kings of the Mambo. The resounding businessman with Rolex, class E and beloved with a flat in Chamberí. The typical one who leans back on the couch and makes it clear from the first minute that he is far above you. The one who thinks - which he is very clear about, moreover - that with his money he can pay for everything. Even your dignity.
10) Those who crack a dinner of a hundred turkeys with a Coca-Cola. That they do no harm, okay, but they would have to be guillotined first and their bad taste later.
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