B is for...
A "friend" sent me a message yesterday to say I wasn't writing a dictionary it was more like an encyclopedia.
So I retrieved a dictionary from my "library" and checked the word pedantic.
Huh,
funnily enough there he was........
....smart arse.
So I retrieved a dictionary from my "library" and checked the word pedantic.
Huh,
funnily enough there he was........
....smart arse.
B is for...
...Botherers. Restaurant botherers come in all shaped and sizes. The most common are the God Botherers of course. A pamphlet is not a tip and soup is not an acceptable main course. Others include the guest botherer. Have you ever sat in a restaurant happily minding your own business enjoying your food and the pleasant conversation when the slightly odd looking couple on the table next to you make eye contact? For the love of all that is right in the world don't acknowledge them, don't nod, don't smile, and if you want a moments peace for the rest of the meal don't speak to them. It starts with a simple, "How's yer food?" and ends up two hours later swapping phone numbers and pictures of the kids etc. I've seen many a good meal ruined by the people next door all for the sake of being polite.........
it's also for...
...Blood. It's not blood it's myoglobin. So when you send your steak back because it's undercooked tell the waiter the myoglobin is pouring out of it, that'll confuse the hell out of him. Actually don't.....Some things are better when they are cooked rare, lamb, steak etc and somethings will kill you, chicken for one. No one wants a nice rare/bloody chicken breast.
and...
...Back of house. This is where the cooker jockeys, kitchen porters, and general psychotics work. Only the brave/foolhardy enter this world of pain, misery, and constant abuse. Anything and everything is fair game in the back of house, your mother (whore), your sister (whore), your girlfriend (whore), your football team (gay whores), your dog (whore) anything. It's like a young offenders centre but with knives and fire. The heat is unbearable and there is a constant cacophony of noise from fans, ovens, dishwashers, radio (happy hardcore etc) and the ceaseless barking from the head chef. It's a testosterone filled world of machismo and then they all go home wearing their nice lemon and pink jumpers. Odd place, best avoided......
as well as...
...Bookings. My definition of restaurant booking seems to differ widely with that of the dining public. I define it as being the time the gusts wish to arrive for something to eat and drink. That being the case we like to have the table ready for that time with the previous occupant being told to feck away off so that we can accommodate the lovely table of four booked for 8pm. But to the dining public it means nothing. It's more of a suggestion, a hint if you will, to the time that they might turn up at. 8pm shouldn't be considered the time that the guests will arrive but rather the starting point from when they may or may not arrive. Being a control freak I really hate tables being late, I'll give you 15 minutes leeway then the next punter to walk in gets your spot and when you do show up I'll take great pleasure in pointing out the time and seating you beside the toilets......
and not forgetting...
...Bacardi. Terrible rum, don't drink it.
...Bacon Bits. If the menu lists bacon flavoured bits anywhere just put the menu down, pay for your drinks, apologise, and leave. It's not real food!
...Brazil. Brazilian beef has sneaked it's way into Irish kitchens not that they, the chefs, will tell you that. Brazilian beef comes from Brazil and it's not some sort of well shaven meat. Insist on the locally reared stuff.
...Bar. This is where off duty waiters live. Leave them alone and don't speak to them. They don't have to be nice to you now and will probably be grumpy/drunk.
...Botherers. Restaurant botherers come in all shaped and sizes. The most common are the God Botherers of course. A pamphlet is not a tip and soup is not an acceptable main course. Others include the guest botherer. Have you ever sat in a restaurant happily minding your own business enjoying your food and the pleasant conversation when the slightly odd looking couple on the table next to you make eye contact? For the love of all that is right in the world don't acknowledge them, don't nod, don't smile, and if you want a moments peace for the rest of the meal don't speak to them. It starts with a simple, "How's yer food?" and ends up two hours later swapping phone numbers and pictures of the kids etc. I've seen many a good meal ruined by the people next door all for the sake of being polite.........
it's also for...
...Blood. It's not blood it's myoglobin. So when you send your steak back because it's undercooked tell the waiter the myoglobin is pouring out of it, that'll confuse the hell out of him. Actually don't.....Some things are better when they are cooked rare, lamb, steak etc and somethings will kill you, chicken for one. No one wants a nice rare/bloody chicken breast.
and...
...Back of house. This is where the cooker jockeys, kitchen porters, and general psychotics work. Only the brave/foolhardy enter this world of pain, misery, and constant abuse. Anything and everything is fair game in the back of house, your mother (whore), your sister (whore), your girlfriend (whore), your football team (gay whores), your dog (whore) anything. It's like a young offenders centre but with knives and fire. The heat is unbearable and there is a constant cacophony of noise from fans, ovens, dishwashers, radio (happy hardcore etc) and the ceaseless barking from the head chef. It's a testosterone filled world of machismo and then they all go home wearing their nice lemon and pink jumpers. Odd place, best avoided......
as well as...
...Bookings. My definition of restaurant booking seems to differ widely with that of the dining public. I define it as being the time the gusts wish to arrive for something to eat and drink. That being the case we like to have the table ready for that time with the previous occupant being told to feck away off so that we can accommodate the lovely table of four booked for 8pm. But to the dining public it means nothing. It's more of a suggestion, a hint if you will, to the time that they might turn up at. 8pm shouldn't be considered the time that the guests will arrive but rather the starting point from when they may or may not arrive. Being a control freak I really hate tables being late, I'll give you 15 minutes leeway then the next punter to walk in gets your spot and when you do show up I'll take great pleasure in pointing out the time and seating you beside the toilets......
and not forgetting...
...Bacardi. Terrible rum, don't drink it.
...Bacon Bits. If the menu lists bacon flavoured bits anywhere just put the menu down, pay for your drinks, apologise, and leave. It's not real food!
...Brazil. Brazilian beef has sneaked it's way into Irish kitchens not that they, the chefs, will tell you that. Brazilian beef comes from Brazil and it's not some sort of well shaven meat. Insist on the locally reared stuff.
...Bar. This is where off duty waiters live. Leave them alone and don't speak to them. They don't have to be nice to you now and will probably be grumpy/drunk.
Take notes......there is a test coming.
It will be "C" next time.
Probably not tomorrow as I have pure blog gold booked for lunch, 40 pensioners on a day out. It doesn't get any better/worse than that........
Probably not tomorrow as I have pure blog gold booked for lunch, 40 pensioners on a day out. It doesn't get any better/worse than that........
28 People trying to get Manuel's attention:
Brilliant! I'm loving this encyclopedia of waitering stuff.
More!
damn, sam beat me to it! but yeah, ditto what she said, sugar! this is good stuff! ;-) xoxo
sam: 24 more to come......
savannah: ta ta......! ps love the tunes today...
I'll have £5 @ 6/1 on the first puddle being under table 4.
p.s. remember to speak loudly and in a condescending manner whilst making eye contact, the chefs like that. You could also do it with the old dears.
bbb: Funnily enough I like serving very large groups of old people.....I mean they CAN be good craic....not all though....
Belfast Baps.
mj: yeah but not in a restaurant......only very special places.....like my kitchen
I take a piece of that action! Put me down for $10 on table 7!
PS- Don't forget B for Brown Nosers.... the fecks who say they know the Owner/Manager/Owner's family/President/Queen/yadda yadda yadda to try and get free stuff and comps. Hey kiss ass....pay up and shut up like everyone else!
blondie: arse.....I'll get them in somewhere else.....
Big bottomed Belfast blokes.
mj: bollocks......
Ya Big Bollix.
Right. I'll Bugger off.
mj: Bout time....c is going to be fun eh.....crikey
Too late about the Bacardi. There's lots of it here in Canuckland.
on the subject of blood - beef/lamb rare = good
chicken rare = bad
what's with serving pork pink? They eat their young goddamnit...cook the hell out of it i reckon.
B for "aur wee britney'n'chantelle want fish fingers, like"
witchypoo: just say no.......no.......just say no...
paddy: step away from the rare pork.......pork shouldn't be pink....but shouldn't be overcooked and dry.....moist is what you are looking for......but no blood....
sheepo: balls......
B is for...
Bust... as in X% of restaurants go bust.
Banana fritters... as in do you not do banana fritters?
Bouncer... as in, "No, sorry, we don't need b.., I mean security staff... ahem, would you like something to eat, on the house like, as you're here?"
You've just reminded me of a time when we caught the eye of the older couple at the next table. Big mistake. The wife jokingly introduced her hubbie as 'Genghis Khan' and it went downhill from there - turns out he was a Holocaust-denying, racist, gun-toting wanker, who then went on to advise me that I shouldn't marry my future husband as his liberal views would surely see us come to a sticky end.
All we'd asked was what they thought was good for pudding.
B - (insert B word of choice), as in those who eat their entire meal and then tell you that it was horrible and off and disgusting and can they please have it for free? all this despite the fact that every time i checked on them, made small talk, and the like, they thought everything was divine. B is also for the baseball bat i've often wished i carried to beat them with when they start with that shite.
in other news, i heard on the radio today that a study out of california found that paying someone a compliment is just as good as leaving them a tip.
i laughed for a really long time.
Lmao.. your back of house description had me trying to smother my laughter with a pillow..
We're not all *that* bad.. Honest.
Well..
conan: banana fritters eh....ah the 80's were great.......
jen: dirty horrible bastard! him .....not you......obviously....
daisy mae: cant get drunk on compliments....pfft
yoyo: yes......yes you are......
Oh do i have a story about sitting next to that slightly odd couple... it's too torturous to tell in full, but suffice it to say the man took his teeth out and put them in his shirt pocket to eat his steak and the woman ended up eating off my plate and trying to kiss me on the mouth as I tried to get away (but I was trapped by the table arrangement) AHHHHH!
healy: email it to me and I'll post it next week.......I need a guest blogger for next week.......DO IT!
ACTUALLY, it's Linkin park the chefs listen to in these parts, and at the end of the night they stop cussing and go wait outside for their parents to pick them up..
Our BOH has taken to yelling "Titties!" every time a female employee walks in the kitchen. Embarrassingly enough, I date one of them...
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