Am just back from a not-so-good dinner experience at our neighbourhood eating out Mecca.
I am wondering though, not to make of the whole episode.
For starters, we decided to try out a new restaurant on Oak Tree Road, New Jersey, after some haggling. It's about half an hour away, and the most tempting of places to visit. Buoyed by the idea of at least a dinner to take a from routine, considering we did not make any long weekend plans for Memorial Day, I dreamt of a romantic dinner.
The restaurant is one of those well-established ones in these parts. Hyped for a start. Its ambience is inviting too. We ignored the buffet. And settled for the serviced area.
The young woman waiting at our table waited patiently as we flitted between our choice of dishes. Hubby settled for his non-vegetarian biryani, while I swayed from Idiyappam to `Bendakaya Pulusu'. Our host said their Idiyappam would not come with the conventional coconut gravy, but sauce alone.
So Pulusu or Okra Sambar it was to be.
My hubby asked her something that I could not hear clearly about. But it was obvious he asked her about where she came from.
``I am from Karachi,'' she replied. For her North-east Asian looks, I thought she was from Assam.
``Actually from Nepal,'' she said. And instantly connected. ``A close friend of mine is from Assam, so I thought you're from Assam,'' I said.
And in the small talk that followed, she said dishes other than the Idiyappam were better. I settled for a starter called Punugulu, which I was not aware existed as an Andhra dish till it popped up on that menu.
Imagine our delight when they started off by serving some fried papad with chutney!
Wow! `Hope they do not charge for this!' I thought. Punugulu, actually a spiced dumpling made of rice flour. I remember having eaten this before, not knowing its name. Its a mini-bonda without the stuffing, to put it crudely. Somewhat sour, it tasted alright, but I was delighted to try something different from the same old Paneer Tikkas and Manchurians that I would normally order.
Hubby and I got chatting over Punugulu. And the dishes arrived. The volume was so big we wondered if we can get through with the food.
We did not get through with all the food. As we began eating, hubby's face fell. He struggled through some spoonfuls and said the meat was not cooked well. On my plate, the okra curry tasted somewhat raw, and definitely not like Sambar.
I helped myself to some Raita that was served to him and managed to down some rice into my throat.
When our host watched us not eat much, she came by and remarked. ``What happened? Something wrong with the dish? You haven't eaten much!''
``Meat was not cooked well. Please let the cook know,'' my hubby replied. She instantly suggested replacement. But considering he does not eat much anyways, he refused.
She apologised profusely and said, ``Brother, please accept it. I can pack you another biryani.''
``Non-vegetarian is not allowed in our home,'' smiled hubby.
``I am a vegetarian,'' I pitched in.
She smiled and left. We waited for the bill bit.
And with all the hopes of a romantic dinner drowned by disastrous food, we made some small talk between ourselves, and laughed a little. A gentleman, probably the kitchen supervisor, asked us if everything was good.
Hubby repeated the same comments.
A few minutes later, while I packed the left-over Okra curry to take home, our host brought a brown bag.
``You have to take this and please accept our apology brother! It is vegetarian biryani,'' she persuaded. Hubby became grim. Too embarrassed, he said, ``we don't eat much!''
When she persuaded further, he said he would accept the food only if they took cash in return. But she continued pestering, generously calling him `bhaiya'.
``Aapka din kharab ho gaya. This is all we can do. Please come back to our restaurant,'' she went on.
I tried telling her we would not eat much. ``You can use it over the next two days,'' she did not give up.
Unable to take the oddness of the whole situation, I looked at my husband who was stuck between anger and embarrassment. ``She called you her brother. Just take it. It's okay.''
He reluctantly nodded. And as the host left the table, he tucked in a $10 note under an empty glass.
Even as we left, she and her colleague apologised profusely. As we moved to our car, I tried reasoning with him that it was alright, hinting he looked more grim than he should have been.
``The food was pathetic. I am not a cook, but I eat well,'' he went on.
``It's not her fault. She went out of her way to make you feel better,'' I reasoned.
``I know it is not her fault. I have nothing against her. She was doing her duty well, which is why I left that bigger tip,'' said he.
``It's because of people like her that restaurants like these survive,'' I said.
Will we go back to that restaurant again? ``No way. I am not coming here ever,'' he said. For me, it is more of a confusion.
What do you do about a place that has such wonderful ambience, great interiors and such dedicated people who serve well, but has pathetic food? After all, is food not the driving USP of a food-selling place?
But then, it would have been easy for us to label the place pathetic, if the staff did not serve well. When something goes wrong, the easiest thing is to blame. Instead, the staff went of their way to compensate, almost leaving us feel guilty about mentioning bad food.
Service is a matter of choice. I am not sure if I will go back to that restaurant. But I am bound not to forget the attitude of the staff taking responsibility.
It made all the difference for one night!
I am wondering though, not to make of the whole episode.
For starters, we decided to try out a new restaurant on Oak Tree Road, New Jersey, after some haggling. It's about half an hour away, and the most tempting of places to visit. Buoyed by the idea of at least a dinner to take a from routine, considering we did not make any long weekend plans for Memorial Day, I dreamt of a romantic dinner.
The restaurant is one of those well-established ones in these parts. Hyped for a start. Its ambience is inviting too. We ignored the buffet. And settled for the serviced area.
The young woman waiting at our table waited patiently as we flitted between our choice of dishes. Hubby settled for his non-vegetarian biryani, while I swayed from Idiyappam to `Bendakaya Pulusu'. Our host said their Idiyappam would not come with the conventional coconut gravy, but sauce alone.
So Pulusu or Okra Sambar it was to be.
My hubby asked her something that I could not hear clearly about. But it was obvious he asked her about where she came from.
``I am from Karachi,'' she replied. For her North-east Asian looks, I thought she was from Assam.
``Actually from Nepal,'' she said. And instantly connected. ``A close friend of mine is from Assam, so I thought you're from Assam,'' I said.
And in the small talk that followed, she said dishes other than the Idiyappam were better. I settled for a starter called Punugulu, which I was not aware existed as an Andhra dish till it popped up on that menu.
Imagine our delight when they started off by serving some fried papad with chutney!
Wow! `Hope they do not charge for this!' I thought. Punugulu, actually a spiced dumpling made of rice flour. I remember having eaten this before, not knowing its name. Its a mini-bonda without the stuffing, to put it crudely. Somewhat sour, it tasted alright, but I was delighted to try something different from the same old Paneer Tikkas and Manchurians that I would normally order.
Hubby and I got chatting over Punugulu. And the dishes arrived. The volume was so big we wondered if we can get through with the food.
We did not get through with all the food. As we began eating, hubby's face fell. He struggled through some spoonfuls and said the meat was not cooked well. On my plate, the okra curry tasted somewhat raw, and definitely not like Sambar.
I helped myself to some Raita that was served to him and managed to down some rice into my throat.
When our host watched us not eat much, she came by and remarked. ``What happened? Something wrong with the dish? You haven't eaten much!''
``Meat was not cooked well. Please let the cook know,'' my hubby replied. She instantly suggested replacement. But considering he does not eat much anyways, he refused.
She apologised profusely and said, ``Brother, please accept it. I can pack you another biryani.''
``Non-vegetarian is not allowed in our home,'' smiled hubby.
``I am a vegetarian,'' I pitched in.
She smiled and left. We waited for the bill bit.
And with all the hopes of a romantic dinner drowned by disastrous food, we made some small talk between ourselves, and laughed a little. A gentleman, probably the kitchen supervisor, asked us if everything was good.
Hubby repeated the same comments.
A few minutes later, while I packed the left-over Okra curry to take home, our host brought a brown bag.
``You have to take this and please accept our apology brother! It is vegetarian biryani,'' she persuaded. Hubby became grim. Too embarrassed, he said, ``we don't eat much!''
When she persuaded further, he said he would accept the food only if they took cash in return. But she continued pestering, generously calling him `bhaiya'.
``Aapka din kharab ho gaya. This is all we can do. Please come back to our restaurant,'' she went on.
I tried telling her we would not eat much. ``You can use it over the next two days,'' she did not give up.
Unable to take the oddness of the whole situation, I looked at my husband who was stuck between anger and embarrassment. ``She called you her brother. Just take it. It's okay.''
He reluctantly nodded. And as the host left the table, he tucked in a $10 note under an empty glass.
Even as we left, she and her colleague apologised profusely. As we moved to our car, I tried reasoning with him that it was alright, hinting he looked more grim than he should have been.
``The food was pathetic. I am not a cook, but I eat well,'' he went on.
``It's not her fault. She went out of her way to make you feel better,'' I reasoned.
``I know it is not her fault. I have nothing against her. She was doing her duty well, which is why I left that bigger tip,'' said he.
``It's because of people like her that restaurants like these survive,'' I said.
Will we go back to that restaurant again? ``No way. I am not coming here ever,'' he said. For me, it is more of a confusion.
What do you do about a place that has such wonderful ambience, great interiors and such dedicated people who serve well, but has pathetic food? After all, is food not the driving USP of a food-selling place?
But then, it would have been easy for us to label the place pathetic, if the staff did not serve well. When something goes wrong, the easiest thing is to blame. Instead, the staff went of their way to compensate, almost leaving us feel guilty about mentioning bad food.
Service is a matter of choice. I am not sure if I will go back to that restaurant. But I am bound not to forget the attitude of the staff taking responsibility.
It made all the difference for one night!
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