Recently, I’ve noticed the same few questions revolving in my mind repeatedly. Why are we so afraid to commit to anything? Why, as American diners, are we so cowardly? Can’t we find ourselves in unexplored territory anymore? Questions regarding this fear of gastronomical and mixological commitment first emerged while recently visiting my varied local watering holes. I enjoy writing in bars, the ones where mustachioed men in vests and bow ties are twisting lemon rinds above odd glasses so that the oils are dispersed in the air, falling to rest in the cocktail. I equally connect with the seedy joints wherein flies are the norm and the barkeep’s skills involve either pouring a shot or refilling a pint glass, those dimly lit places where the smell of pall malls and vomit linger in the air and fall to rest in the outdated carpet. A $14 Manhattan or a $4 shot and beer, I adore them equally and regularly notice the same behavior regardless of my location. People want to try before they buy. More than once I’ve sat next to someone was asking for “just a small taste” of the traditional serving of absinthe (water slowly dripped over a sugar cube, falling into a glass of the spirit), an arduous task to which the bartender surprisingly obliges! Maybe he was afraid of a bad review in retaliation of his potential refusal of the Costco-like sampling, could it be that his supervisor told him to carry the attitude, “The answer is YES, now what is the question?”, or is it possible that he hopes for a larger tip by making the extra effort? Regardless of his motive, this practice of pandering and answering to every needy, self-righteous customer’s beck and call are complete insanity. I resist a strong urge to stand up out of my stool and shout, “Just commit and order full glass! Why not take a chance something that you haven’t tried before, but don’t dip your toes in the water, dive in!” Nine out of ten times, they’ll cringe while sipping the anise-laden sample of fading emerald liquid and settle for their usual choice of light beer with a dollar for tip, stating, “Eww, black licorice is disgusting!”. Unfortunately, heinous and selfish acts like these aren’t reserved for bars alone.

We’ve replaced our quest for genuinely decent service and quality cuisine with expectations that mirror our modern day society. It seems now that we are conditioned to feel justified in destroying an establishment’s reputation when our experience there isn’t completely sublime. Sadly, it comes as no surprise how frequently you witness a fellow diner declare to a manager, “My wife needs a fifth refill on her diet Pepsi and we haven’t seen our waiter in over 10 minutes, I really don’t think we should pay full price for this kind of service.” or something to that degree, always swiftly followed by a discounted check and a slew of apologies. It seems now that people love to play the role of the assorted judges they’ve seen on the same regurgitation of over-dramatic competitive-cooking television. Thoughtlessly, they issue so little as half a star to a mom and pop restaurant simply because the cook couldn’t produce the pseudo-critic’s vision of what the mythical medium-well cheeseburger should look like. You overhear, “Umm Waiter, I’d like the salmon taken off of my bill please, it didn’t go well with the fried brussels sprouts that I substituted the roasted carrots for.” You have to understand, this due to the fact that those fried brussels sprouts were created and meant solely for the accompaniment of the bone in ribeye, they weren’t meant for his/her salmon, but if that customer is anything like the average entitled American diner, she’ll inevitably make such a fuss about it that the staff will be forced to make the modification to their dish or prepare for the hellish scorn of the resulting bad yelp review. I ask again, why are we so afraid to commit to anything? We are hurting our culture, we are making our chefs and bartenders suffer, damage is being done to our dining experience, and for what? Sauce on the side?

If you enjoyed this brief description of one of my many encounters with the fallacies and beauties of the food and beverage world, please make me aware of your interest and I will happily share more. Thank you for using your spare time to read today.

-Scott Carter