Fat Guy Lays it on the Table

[Fat Guy]

The advertised conventional wisdom of American restaurant reviewing is certainly that a critic cannot simultaneously be objective and have a constructive relationship with the industry. But that conventional wisdom doesn't hold up under scrutiny, and is mostly something critics pay lip-service to because they're not willing to challenge the public perception. There's a fair bit of a chapter of Turning the Tables on exactly this point (Dirk, have you read it?), and of course there are several existing eG Forums topics where it is discussed in great detail.

[Dirk Wheelan]

Dirk, have you had some personal experience that has led you to feel this way. Are you a chef or restaurateur that has suffered at the hands of a writer for example? It would be useful to have some context to your comments.

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Ah! The ulterior motive.

Well no. I just don't accept that it is possible to write objectively about restaurants on behalf of consumers and at the same time endorse developing personal relationships with those whom one is potentially judging. FG is/was a lawyer, would this be acceptable in the courtroom?

I don't think either of these positions is problematic on its own, but I deny that they can be operated in tandem. It's the old question of having one's cake and eating it too.

In Steven's case, I think you only have to look at the classes he has written for the eGCI to know that he is not without culinary skill and knowledge and its that, combined with ambition and his ability to write that has led to the publication of Turning the Tables.

You may be correct, the egci is an area of egullet with which I'm unfamiliar, and FG is certainly a competent writer, and I admire his spirited defences. Nevertheless, lovely boy that he is, he is still wrong on this particular point.

[Fat Guy]

I can live with lovely.

[jamiemaw]

Well no. I just don't accept that it is possible to write objectively about restaurants on behalf of consumers and at the same time endorse developing personal relationships with those whom one is potentially judging. FG is/was a lawyer, would this be acceptable in the courtroom?

I don't think either of these positions is problematic on its own, but I deny that they can be operated in tandem. It's the old question of having one's cake and eating it too.

You may be correct, the egci is an area of egullet with which I'm unfamiliar, and FG is certainly a competent writer, and I admire his spirited defences. Nevertheless, lovely boy that he is, he is still wrong on this particular point.

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I often wonder why the regard ‘restaurant reviewers’ should be so different in their anonymity or potential for conflict than other critics, or for that matter, other journalists.

Take that very mainstream duo, Ebert and Roeper. They speak at film festivals, have relationships with major studio-heads, producers, directors and actors, and yet mittle-America still trusts their judgement. They are certainly not anonymous. While those relationships deepen the extended backrounders they write on the industry, they seemingly do little to detract from the independence of their reviews.

The same holds true for other journalists: without the relationships and industry contacts, there is no story, and, in the case of restaurant reviewing, the writing quickly falls into the finite scope of the New York Times “I came, I ate, I left” school, i.e. coruscatingly drab. That some of their reviewers choose to cross-dress only speaks to other, rather more personal issues. Not incidentally, this type of reviewer, as opposed to say the AA Gill school, has the average shelf life of a plough-horse because they quickly become one.

But let’s start with this premise: there is no such thing as an anonymous restaurant reviewer, at least not after a year. Those who delude themselves with this notion aren’t honest. In Canada, the chief perp is Joanne Kates of the Globe and Mail, who, after 20-plus years, still fools herself. I was speaking with a Toronto restaurateur on Friday who said, “Well, James was in last week, and Joanne the week before.”

There is a tacit contract between reviewers and restaurateurs—while the latter may know that we’re there, doing our business, that they should leave us alone. There is little, if anything, after all, that they can do once the process of dining is commenced. Once anonymity has fled the barn, independence is the order of the day. That’s achieved by a budget, observation, experience and expertise. The ability to write with clarity doesn’t hurt either.

I served on the board of the Webster Foundation for Journalism for seven years and as its chairman for two. Journalistic ethics often dominated the informal discussion before and after board meetings. Not once did I hear financial writers or other investigative journalists chastised for the depth of contacts that they had constructed in order to deliver the back story.

I organized and edited a cook book last year with 54 chefs. It was fundraising project. I worked closely with them. But that in no way stole my independence in writing this tough review.

Although there were a couple of other things that I disagreed with in Steven’s book, at least in the unedited review copy that I read (relative service standards in other countries—without explanation; and the overawing New York-centricities of begging for restaurant reservations—these problems simply don’t apply in most of the western democracies), this certainly wasn’t one of them.

If you want to see real conflict in ‘criticism’ look no farther than travel writing, where the budgets of all but the largest periodicals disallow independence of opinion—the notorious FAM trip remains rife.

To be sure, there are many conflicted restaurant reviewers as well, especially amongst weekly give-aways. I discuss it in greater length here.That’s because there isn’t a budget sufficient to divorce the tripartite (reader-consumer, restaurateur, reviewer) and write the post-nup.

[Andy Lynes]

In Steven's case, I think you only have to look at the classes he has written for the eGCI to know that he is not without culinary skill and knowledge and its that, combined with ambition and his ability to write that has led to the publication of Turning the Tables.

You may be correct, the egci is an area of egullet with which I'm unfamiliar, and FG is certainly a competent writer, and I admire his spirited defences. Nevertheless, lovely boy that he is, he is still wrong on this particular point.

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If you are going to make accusations in a public forum about people's competency to do their jobs and wish to be taken seriously, at the very least you should be familiar with their work. Otherwise you could end up looking rather foolish.

[Dirk Wheelan]

If you are going to make accusations in a public forum about people's competency to do their jobs and wish to be taken seriously, at the very least you should be familiar with their work. Otherwise you could end up looking rather foolish.

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I'll bear that in mind should the occasion ever arise.

[Fat Guy]

Jamie, I think the most often cited distinction between restaurant criticism and other forms of criticism is that the restaurant experience is an individually tailored one, whereas most of the other arts are relatively static. The studio arts are almost completely static, most media like books and films and television are totally static and it's not all that easy to manipulate the performing arts for a critic -- I suppose actors and singers have better and worse nights and can really give it their all when there's a critic in the house, but that doesn't approach the level of customization possible in a restaurant meal. So I do think restaurant criticism has some unique challenges. I think, however, that the enterprise of restaurant criticism has not done a particularly good job meeting these challenges because it has conceived of them as more important than they are. Indeed, restaurant criticism may be slowly putting itself out of business by forcing itself into a box that it can't get out of. Instead, I think the limitation just has to be acknowledged openly: that for the most part restaurant reviewers are reviewing the best meal a restaurant is capable of producing. This is the case whether reviewers like it or not -- it has been established many times over (most recently when Steve Cuozzo of the New York Post stepped down) that at least in the major fine dining markets anonymity is a farce in reality and only exists consistently as PR mythology -- so I think it's best to admit it and move forward. What I've tried to do in Turning the Tables is show folks how to get that best meal, because while critics and friends of the house get it automatically it's possible for anybody to, as I say in the book, "become a regular on your first visit." I don't necessarily think people should have to work so hard to get the best a restaurant has to offer. But I didn't create the system. I'm just trying to show people how it works.

[Jonathan Day]

The issue of "compromised food critics" has been discussed for many years on this site. The first thread I found (which contains some interesting points of view) started in 2002; it can be found here. I'm sure there are dozens of other threads about anonymity and conflicts of interest between critics and restaurants.

This thread, however, is about Turning The Tables, which isn't a book of restaurant criticism. In fact, it's a book that Shaw's relationships with restaurateurs and chefs makes him unusually qualified to write, since it's about exposing the inside working of restaurants to those of us who usually go no further than the dining room. An anonymous critic who was unfamiliar with the workings of the business, no matter how "well dined" he was, would be of lesser value to the reader for the purposes of this book.

In any event, Shaw is hardly the only restaurant critic who doesn't operate anonymously and who maintains close ties to chefs and restaurateurs. John Mariani, the Esquire critic, doesn't pay the bills at the restaurants he reviews; he has written a book called The Four Seasons: A History of America's Premier Restaurant, with an owner of the restaurant as his co-author. There's a compromised critic for you.

The issue of "compromised restaurant critics" has little to do with Shaw's book. Why not debate this more general topic over on the other thread?

[Rebel Rose]

I guess a reader's expectations would depend on whether that person is "process" or "product" oriented.

People interested only in an impartial review of a finished product would prefer to read critics who have a "don't touch me" attitude toward their market, and who focus solely on the dishes and service as presented.

"Process" people, like me, are avidly interested in how this food came to be, what the chef's goals are, where the food came from, and how it is prepared. I like food and wine critics who are unafraid to develop contacts within the industry, and delve for background material. They are by far the more interesting writers and are almost always more aware of emerging trends. For me, books like Turning the Tables and Kitchen Confidential are fascinating.

I am only halfway through Turning the Tables. I finished Kitchen Confidential the same week my son began working as a line cook, and I was, well . . . worried!

[jamiemaw]

Jamie, I think the most often cited distinction between restaurant criticism and other forms of criticism is that the restaurant experience is an individually tailored one, whereas most of the other arts are relatively static. The studio arts are almost completely static, most media like books and films and television are totally static and it's not all that easy to manipulate the performing arts for a critic -- I suppose actors and singers have better and worse nights and can really give it their all when there's a critic in the house, but that doesn't approach the level of customization possible in a restaurant meal.

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Well, sure, that's a given. But I would argue, and I'm sure you would agree, that the difference between customization for critic and customer, and I really think what is the point of your book, looks like this:

1. When a restaurant recognizes there is a critic in the house, there are few things they can do to elevate the proceedings on short notice. They can try to shoot some extra plates, but sycophantism doesn't play well: it's easier to 'improve' quantity versus quality. And any experienced critic will recognize upgraded service straight away; as the expression goes, 'in a Vancouver minute' .

When it's all said and done, the forensics of restaurant reviewing are similar to the due diligence required in other businesses, including my own in property development. Ultimately that information should be published in the context of 'full, plain, and true disclosure.' Only then can the back story and entertainment begin.

What I've tried to do in Turning the Tables is show folks how to get that best meal, because while critics and friends of the house get it automatically it's possible for anybody to, as I say in the book, "become a regular on your first visit." I don't necessarily think people should have to work so hard to get the best a restaurant has to offer.

2. Precisely. One of the major tenets of Turnig the Tables, as I recall (Andy is enjoying it so much that he has yet to return my review copy ), is indeed that the customer, with advance notice, can achieve a better dining experience. This, in part, explains the tremendous surge of 'private dining' (incorporating a pre-selected menu and accompanying wines) rooms for groups within larger restaurants. If only the average civilian diner would invest a little more time in pre-planning, the customer-as-victim experience would be diminished. I hope that Steven's book assists to this end.

Many are the times when, in non-review (read: sybarytic) mode, I've organized a celebratory dinner. Inevitably, I want to see a bottle of iced Bolly on the table, and some complementary (as opposed to complimentary) hors'douevres the minute we sit down. This is especially true if I'm trying to get someone to do something that they don't necessarily want to do. Or at least hadn't thought of yet. Again, and quite rightly, Steven points up the value of 'setting the table' in his book.

Joanathan Day  The issue of "compromised restaurant critics" has little to do with Shaw's book. Why not debate this more general topic over on the other thread?

Good point, Jonathan. And indeed the issue of conflict has been thrashed to death elsewhere here. But in deference to Steven, I think it important to delineate the apparently nuanced difference between 1. and 2., as above. The point of the story is that most of the best food writers can and should be encouraged to do both: i.e. review as well as write on the sociology (the W5) of both dining out and food itself. Not unlike London cabbies, guys like him have 'The Knowledge', and, although (as mentioned upthread) I disagree with a couple of staements in Turning the Tables, overall I think it a valuable and practical resource, written by someone who knows of what he speaks.

Edited October 2, 2005 by jamiemaw (log)

[chefboy24]

Ambition in food-writing is rarely directed towards making a positive contribution to the common culinary weal, but rather to acquiring and wielding influence.

ding ding ding

we have a winnar!

[chefboy24]

I am only halfway through Turning the Tables.  I finished Kitchen Confidential the same week my son began working as a line cook, and I was, well . . . worried! 

don't worry about your boy, he's very much alive, and i hope you support his decision and that you're proud of him. he'll be fine. (i'm sure of it if he's got a mom who posts on egullet!)

Edited October 4, 2005 by chefboy24 (log)

[oakapple]

The advertised conventional wisdom of American restaurant reviewing is certainly that a critic cannot simultaneously be objective and have a constructive relationship with the industry. But that conventional wisdom doesn't hold up under scrutiny, and is mostly something critics pay lip-service to because they're not willing to challenge the public perception.

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Let us accept arguendo that critics are recognized nearly every time, even where they maintain the pretense of anonymity. (I am not yet persuaded this is true, but I shall accept it for argument's sake.)

This does not necessarily mean that the opposite extreme—constant schmoozing and ingratiating with the very people you're purportedly critiquing—produces objective criticism. I stand second to nobody in my enjoyment of FG's reviews on eGullet. But do I believe he is describing an experience I could ever have with my own money? Most of the time, I do not think so. His recent blow-out dinner at ADNY (see the New York board) is a case in point. No one but FG (or a handful of other people similarly situated) could have that dinner.

Do I enjoy reading his reports? Yes. Do I believe that FG is reporting objectively, when it's obvious he's been heavily comped? Well, notwithstanding his skill and knowledge, I have to be at least a little bit skeptical.

Edited October 5, 2005 by oakapple (log)

[M.X.Hassett]

The advertised conventional wisdom of American restaurant reviewing is certainly that a critic cannot simultaneously be objective and have a constructive relationship with the industry. But that conventional wisdom doesn't hold up under scrutiny, and is mostly something critics pay lip-service to because they're not willing to challenge the public perception.

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Let us accept arguendo that critics are recognized nearly every time, even where they maintain the pretense of anonymity. (I am not yet persuaded this is true, but I shall accept it for argument's sake.)

This does not necessarily mean that the opposite extreme—constant schmoozing and ingratiating with the very people you're purportedly critiquing—produces objective criticism. I stand second to nobody in my enjoyment of FG's reviews on eGullet. But do I believe he is describing an experience I could ever have with my own money? Most of the time, I do not think so. His recent blow-out dinner at ADNY (see the New York board) is a case in point. No one but FG (or a handful of other people similarly situated) could have that dinner.

Do I enjoy reading his reports? Yes. Do I believe that FG is reporting objectively, when it's obvious he's been heavily comped? Well, notwithstanding his skill and knowledge, I have to be at least a little bit skeptical.

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Did you read the book? It is all(not book, but life) about being a regular, me, you, Steven, anyone, who is a regular will be treated to a slightly higher standard at any rest' worth its salt. This is what is discussed in chapter one I believe. I have also found this to be true in my own experience. As for ADNY I am sure Steve can get a reservation quicker then most, but to my knowledge "the aquarium" is open res. as for the food anyone with the $$$ to pay I am sure could make a request to have an extended tasting menu in addition to ala carte orders, at least this has been my experience with a number of rest. (not ADNY I have not done this there and have not dined there in two years or so). Please do not take this personally I am just trying to further the discussion.

P.S. Steve, I thanked you already for the book by PM, but now that I have something to contribute to the thread I will do it publicly. Thanks again for a great read this book should be required reading for anyone who acts like an ass in a rest'.

[TAPrice]

I know I'm going to regret wading into this issue of anonymity. The lines have been drawn. People have been arguing in circles for weeks.

Ok, before anyone asks, yes I have read the book. It was about six weeks ago, which feels like about six years ago, so I don't claim to remember every word.

It's also worth noting that I spent the last six months reviewing restaurants for the New Orleans alt-weekly. When I started reviewing, it seemed obvious that a reviewer should be anonymous. That's how the NYT did. That what my editors wanted me to do. I wasn't really in a position to argue. It was also really cool having credit cards under assumed names.

Steven, however, is increasingly winning me over to the idea that anonymity is overrated. Not completely, but I'm getting there. I do think that critics would be better if they were more engaged with chefs and restaurants. There were times when I felt constrained in the type of features I could write because of my need to remain an anonymous critic.

While I like his vision of what the non-anonymous critic could do, I don't think his arguments are very convincing. Steven has said that anonymous reviewing is some kind of anomaly. I don't really think that's the case. Book reviewers for major papers must show that they have no connection to the author (I believe a recent reviewer for the WaPo got in trouble for failing to disclose a relationship). I come from an academic background, and no scholarship is taken seriously (except for legal scholarship) unless it was reviewed by anonymous readers. Food critics have adopted some odd code of ethics.

I'm also not won over by this idea that it's easy to become a regular. I ate out a lot for my job. Often I would eat at a place once a week for three weeks. Despite spending plenty of money and being perfectly polite, only the small family-run restaurants ever began to treat me like a regular.

It's true that I didn't completely follow Steven's advice. I didn't introduce myself to everyone in the room, but I just wouldn't be comfortable doing that. I'm sure lots of other people wouldn't either.

My guess is that certain people are more welcome as a regular than others. You probably have to exude a certain air of having money, which I'm sure that I never pulled off. Just spending lots of cash, and even bringing friends and picking up the check, just won't do it.

I'm willing to bet that things might be different in New York, where the staff are probably more sophisticated. They might be on the look out to cultivate regular customers.

The one reason that hasn't been advanced for anonymous reviewing is that it keeps the writers honest. Reading papers from smaller markets, my sense is that most critics are happy to post their photos next to the review. They probably also throw their weight around and expect comps.

As I said, I'm still on the fence. When I look at travel writing, however, I see where food criticism could go. Lots of pieces puffing up placing that were visited on junkets. Food criticism wouldn't have to become like that if anonymity were abandoned, but it certainly could.

I should also say that Steven's book is about a lot more than anonymous reviewing. I wish we could talk about some of the other aspects of the book.

[Fat Guy]

This does not necessarily mean that the opposite extreme—constant schmoozing and ingratiating with the very people you're purportedly critiquing—produces objective criticism. I stand second to nobody in my enjoyment of FG's reviews on eGullet. But do I believe he is describing an experience I could ever have with my own money? Most of the time, I do not think so. His recent blow-out dinner at ADNY (see the New York board) is a case in point. No one but FG (or a handful of other people similarly situated) could have that dinner.

Do I enjoy reading his reports? Yes. Do I believe that FG is reporting objectively, when it's obvious he's been heavily comped? Well, notwithstanding his skill and knowledge, I have to be at least a little bit skeptical.

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Let me try to clarify two points:

First, you could have that meal. Every dish we were served was a dish from the printed menu available to all customers. Anybody (you do not have to be a regular, though regulars are given priority) can book the aquarium for a group of 5-8 people for $500 per person, which includes an extended tasting menu plus wines with each course. Typically, when reporting on a chef's cuisine for the first time, I ask to be served only what is on the menu. Once I've worked my way through a menu, I'm happy to experience off-menu cooking as well, in order to see what a chef is capable of.

Further to that point, let us recall this part of William Grimes's four-star review of Alain Ducasse at the Essex House:

Perhaps the most audacious exercise in this vein was a two-part chicken dish concocted by Mr. Elena for a tasting menu offered in the chef's room, a small private room just off the kitchen that regular customers can book.

Phase 1 began with the opening of a pastry-sealed cocotte. When a cloud of truffled steam dissipated, it revealed four spheres about the size of a squash ball, each one a huge black truffle wrapped first in a cabbage leaf and then in pancetta. Part meatball, part stuffed cabbage, the deluxe balls functioned as outriders on a plate otherwise dedicated to a chicken breast, with large coins of black truffle slipped under the skin, and fat little fingers of boudin blanc, a textural marvel of sheer silk in a gossamer casing that popped with each bite. A thin coating of Albufera sauce -- liquid foie gras flavored with port and Madeira -- elevated the dish to luxury status.

To me, it was interesting to read about Grimes's experience of a dish not on the menu. I never got to have the dish, but it showed us something about the chef's abilities.

Second, I certainly think that when a chef has a known writer (or a fellow chef or any of a dozen species of VIP) in the private dining room he's going to provide some extra supervision to his line cooks. Which is to say, I'm sure I experienced the best possible performance of the kitchen on that night. People should know that when critics are recognized (which is most of the time anyway) they are writing about a restaurant at its best -- the version of the dish that isn't overcooked or otherwise technically flawed. That's just the way it is, and I happen to think it's valuable to read about restaurants at their best. It's not like there's any statistical rhyme or reason to visiting two or three times in order to establish a sampling of on and off nights in the kitchen.

The point you raise, however, is about comps. I definitely get some comps. A lot of the time I don't even know how I'm going to be billed: I almost always (unless there was a specific press invite) go to a restaurant prepared to pay full freight, sometimes I do, sometimes I get charged the basic menu price for an extended tasting and sometimes I get comped (in which case I leave a gratuity -- and at ADNY that gratuity can be the cost of lunch at Jean Georges). I've probably spent $5,000 at ADNY over the past five years and I've probably had $5,000 worth of comps. This has allowed me to sample ADNY's cuisine far more often than I would have been able to otherwise, and to report on them here and elsewhere, and to bring Ellen along to take photos -- and of course I've enjoyed those extra meals tremendously; I do what I do because I love it and dining is much of the pleasure. But the day I fail to report objectively because I've been comped is the day I retire from food writing. Every chef who extends an invitation or comp to me knows or should know the score: I'll say what I like and I'll say what I don't like.

[MobyP]

It would be interesting to run a poll of how many people were influenced to try ADNY because of your reports. Perhaps you (or they) could begin to extrapolate a positive dollar value to the restaurant of all that comped food.

[Fat Guy]

Publicity is usually cheaper than advertising, so chances are that comped meals for journalists (which are almost cost-free, like giving away empty seats on airplanes) are going to be one of your best investments . . . if your restaurant is good. If your restaurant isn't good, you can comp until you're blue in the face and it's only going to get you so far: the reputable writers who have any sort of influence (Mariani et al.) aren't going to say your food is good unless they believe it is, and even if you can trick a few bottom-feeders into writing good things about you all you can do is get a few people to try the restaurant once -- if it sucks they're not coming back.

A place at the Ducasse level is going to be particularly dependent on comps as a means of getting the word out, because there are only a few media outlets that will subsidize $1,000 meals for their writers, even fewer that will do it more than once and even fewer freelancers who will do it out of their own pockets. In a comp-free environment, only the New York Times, Gourmet and a few other major publications will cover the restaurant. By making the issue of comps into a moral issue, these well-to-do, established publications create a barrier to entry for underfunded newcomers and smaller, alternative publications. (A separate issue that we can explore elsewhere is the hypocrisy of the non-reviewers at these publications taking comps anyway).

I do think there's potential for loss of objectivity when writers are dependent on comps. That potential for undue influence is reduced significantly, however, for writers who do a few things. Probably the most important one is to keep in mind, always, that the veracity of your writing is your stock in trade -- anytime the temptation "they were so nice and generous to me, I should write something flattering even though the place wasn't even worth writing about at all" creeps up on you, you've got to remember that you have a long-term relationship with your readers that you'll wreck if you lose your objectivity. (I also happen to think you'll wreck that relationship if you pander to your readers, but that's another issue). Another is to talk about it openly, not necessarily every time you mention a restaurant but, in general, writers who accept comps shouldn't be pretending they don't. (Likewise, reviewers who are identified most of the time shouldn't be pretending they're anonymous.) And it's helpful to have enough of a budget and resources so that comps can't ultimately control your choices -- so long as you can afford to go to any restaurant at least once without the expectation of a comp, comps remain a way to expand your range.

And hey, some people are going to discount what you say if you're not anonymous and if you're taking comps. That's life. I just wish those people would take a few minutes to try to understand the arguments, and at least move away from the shallow view that money and recognition are the be-all-end-all issues underlying journalistic objectivity. Because a writer can be recognized and take comps and still produce high-quality, honest work, while another writer can strive for anonymity and always pay with the newspaper's credit card but still be a lousy, unobjective, ignorant, biased reviewer.

[mikeycook]

I would like to commend the author on an excellent book, one of the few that provides new insight into the restaurant dining experience.

I am particularly happy with the section about becoming a regular at a place, something that I have started to do (as suggested I won't tell where), but I had a question. I have made some reservations through Open Table and some not at a particular restaurant, which I have now dined at about 5 times. I know I am starting to be known at the restaurant because I called a couple of days after my last visit to schedule my next one and they indicated they remembered me from a couple of days previous.

After I thought about it, though, I realized there was no obvious way for the restaurant to know that I had dined with them a few times previously by making reservations through Open Table without me telling them, as they did not take my email address or anything other information that would make me particularly identifiable (my name, John Cook, is not exactly unique.) Am I correct in thinking that or do restaurants try to reconcile Open Table with phone reservations?

[markk]

Some members who are restaurateurs can undoubtedly give you a more precise answer, but a restaurant that's on Open Table has the Open Table reservation system running on their computer, which is how they take reservations themselves (well, the two sets of reservations would have to reconcile, of course, and Open Table needs to know when they've taken tables out of inventory for reservations they make themselves for people who call in directly. So when you give your name on the phone to a restaurant and they put it in to book your table, your entire Open Table history with them appears.

This has happened to me once or twice - I've called places where years earlier I had dined via an Open Table reservation, and they've said "I see you last dined with us three years ago" or something like that. So that's how they have all your info and dining history.

I would like to commend the author on an excellent book, one of the few that provides new insight into the restaurant dining experience.

I am particularly happy with the section about becoming a regular at a place, something that I have started to do (as suggested I won't tell where), but I had a question.  I have made some reservations through Open Table and some not at a particular restaurant, which I have now dined at about 5 times.  I know I am starting to be known at the restaurant because I called a couple of days after my last visit to schedule my next one and they indicated they remembered me from a couple of days previous.

After I thought about it, though, I realized there was no obvious way for the restaurant to know that I had dined with them a few times previously by making reservations through Open Table without me telling them, as they did not take my email address or anything other information that would make me particularly identifiable (my name, John Cook, is not exactly unique.)  Am I correct in thinking that or do restaurants try to reconcile Open Table with phone reservations?

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[mikeycook]

That makes complete sense and if someone's name is relatively unique, they can certainly ask if you have dined before, but if someone's name is fairly common, i.e. John Smith, how can a restaurant tell the John Smiths apart? I was just looking at the signup form for Open Table and did not that phone number was part of the registration. I am guess I would assume that this is a primary key and that they could ask for a phone number and match up, but as I recall, a lot of restaurants don't even ask me for a phone number (they just ask me to call and confirm). Is there another key that I'm not thinking of?

Some members who are restaurateurs can undoubtedly give you a more precise answer, but a restaurant that's on Open Table has the Open Table reservation system running on their computer, which is how they take reservations themselves (well, the two sets of reservations would have to reconcile, of course, and Open Table needs to know when they've taken tables out of inventory for reservations they make themselves for people who call in directly.  So when you give your name on the phone to a restaurant and they put it in to book your table, your entire Open Table history with them appears.

This has happened to me once or twice - I've called places where years earlier I had dined via an Open Table reservation,  and they've said "I see you last dined with us three years ago" or something like that.  So that's how they have all your info and dining history.

I would like to commend the author on an excellent book, one of the few that provides new insight into the restaurant dining experience.

I am particularly happy with the section about becoming a regular at a place, something that I have started to do (as suggested I won't tell where), but I had a question.  I have made some reservations through Open Table and some not at a particular restaurant, which I have now dined at about 5 times.  I know I am starting to be known at the restaurant because I called a couple of days after my last visit to schedule my next one and they indicated they remembered me from a couple of days previous.

After I thought about it, though, I realized there was no obvious way for the restaurant to know that I had dined with them a few times previously by making reservations through Open Table without me telling them, as they did not take my email address or anything other information that would make me particularly identifiable (my name, John Cook, is not exactly unique.)  Am I correct in thinking that or do restaurants try to reconcile Open Table with phone reservations?

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[Fat Guy]

A restaurant that doesn't ask you for a phone number probably isn't using OpenTable. A restaurant using the OpenTable software uses name and phone number to identify guests. The online and in-house systems are reconciled in real time, at least that's how it has worked in the restaurants where I've observed the system in action -- and I assume it's uniform. Online, OpenTable also asks you if it's a first visit, and there's a notes field that you can use to send a shout-out to the restaurant if you're concerned they won't figure out that Joe Smith is the Joe Smith who comes all the time and asks for Table 34.

[Bux]

A restaurant that doesn't ask for your phone number may well have caller ID on their end. Perhaps it's my imagination, but I could swear I've been recognized before I've even given my name. I've often wondered if a restaurant cares if you make the reservation directly or through OpenTable. As Shaw noted above, OpenTable's strength may be less the opportunity to attract diners via the OpenTable site, than it is just using their software.

[Fat Guy]

They prefer that you make the reservation directly, because there's a fee for each online reservation. The upside of the online reservations is that on nights when they wouldn't be full they might get a few extra covers. But if someone has a choice between online and by phone, restaurants prefer by phone.

Caller ID is standard on most restaurants' phones, but it's also of limited utility. I didn't keep a log, but in looking at a whole lot of calls coming in, the overwhelming majority seemed to be from cell phones (mostly with no name information attached), office PBX systems (with the ID showing the main line in an office) and hotels, whereas when people leave a number they tend to use their home number or their direct dial office number (although OpenTable can accommodate multiple numbers associated with one record). It is occasionally the case that the reservationist actually gets your name and number with the incoming call, but chances are that information has not been keyed into OpenTable yet when the phone is answered -- OpenTable doesn't interface with the phone system the way telemarketing systems do. Most likely, if the reservationist recognizes you from caller ID, it's because he or she actually remembers who you are.

Another tidbit: restaurants that deal with a lot of no-shows will sometimes demonstrate favorable treatment towards people calling from home from local numbers -- they'll find a table for you, whereas they'll tell someone calling from a hotel or from out of town that they're fully committed.

[KatieLoeb]

Another tidbit: restaurants that deal with a lot of no-shows will sometimes demonstrate favorable treatment towards people calling from home from local numbers -- they'll find a table for you, whereas they'll tell someone calling from a hotel or from out of town that they're fully committed.

Which is how it should be done. A former employer of mine insisted on taking any reservation from any concierge at any time, even if it inconvenienced the local regulars. I thought that was stupid and told them so. What good is it to make a good impression on an out of town visitor that may never come back to your restaurant again?? It's nice that all their friends and colleagues back in Dubuque heard about their lovely meal in Philly, but so what?? Where's the utility to the restaurant? Every guest and reservation is important, but if it's about preferential treatment, then the locals should definitely be getting it.