Thoughts on what makes a solid dining experience

Mr. Maven and I had lunch out the other day with a friend at a favorite local restaurant as a sort of getting re-acquainted experience. The owners had noticed that I hadn’t been in lately or been blogging about their excellent product. There was no particular reason. Life simply gets busy and we get into ruts.

That’s not to say we don’t have our favorites, and there are definitely reasons for having those particular favorite dining spots. This whole thing got me thinking again about the experience of eating out and what qualities make for a good dining experience - or not.

 

Let’s get one thing out of the way now. I’m really fussy. I notice absolutely everything, and make a mental note - rather like points adding up on the plus or minus side of the ledger. I’m also always making some pretty stiff comparisons, having eaten my way around the world - from a hidden Parisian bistro with a knowledgeable local to the corner Italian joint in New York’s Tribeca to the best that Hong Kong has to offer - again with locals.

I see it this way, if you’re in the restaurant business to succeed, then it’s about wanting to be more tomorrow than you were yesterday. It is about passion. Everything else is just Fast Food.

Dining out, for me, is an intensely personal, unhurried social experience. For this reason, I haven’t been in a fast food restaurant for some decades. Fast food is contradictory to what eating should be about, and McDonalds should just offer tubes with fast hookups to medical ‘ports’ on their patrons bodies. Or shovels.

The same goes for too many sit down ‘chain’ restaurants. I’ll probably get flack about this from a nephew who is executive chef for a very prestigious restaurant group.

Lots of very so-so food. Heaps of steaming stuff. There’s no art or artisanship to it. It’s about filling bellies at a price and nothing more.

But this is what American cuisine has become. This seems to be alright with most Americans, since they’re not really ‘there’ for the food anyway. I used to work for a person here in Reno who preferred to work while mindlessly stabbing a fork at something resembling food. She also thought that the employees would like this too, scheduling ‘working lunches’. I was often AWOL. I was out getting a real lunch.

Nope. I work or I eat. Not both at the same time. When I see people doing this I get a mental picture of George Kastanza (Seinfeld) eating a pastrami sandwich while having sex. He just couldn’t decide where his focus should be. It was hysterically funny on the tee-vee, but not so much in real life.

Working - or having sex - while eating degrades both eating, work and sex. They are all too important on their own merits to be in a mashup with everything else. I prefer to savor each independently.

The other day, the waitress at one of our favorite lunch spots, politely inquired if what I’d ordered “would be enough?” I said that it would, but then told her this - “the food here is so good, so satisfyingly honest, that a little ‘does it’ for me. It scratches the itch” that a mountain of average stuff on a plate couldn’t.

Think of the last time you mindlessly plowed through a bag of chips and still ‘felt hungry’.

My favorite restaurants are ones where the menu is simply an inspiration not the Ten Commandments, and unless the place is slammed, say on a Sunday morning, the waitstaff knows this, because they know me, and they’re totally cool with that.

“Are your going to have your usual today?”

“Well, sort of.”

This is where I take the creative culinary road less traveled - keeping in mind a couple of things:

1- What ingredients are likely to be in the kitchen. A quick scan of the menu should tell you they probably won’t have salmon if there is none on the menu. Don’t ask for jalepenos or salsa fresca in a Swedish place. Have a clue.

2- Then, I take note of how busy they are. Slammed? Then I’m gonna keep it simple. A quieter day? Then I’ll push the envelope.

This is just common sense about the limits of the kitchen and staff. It’s not nice to be an horse’s ass, and set everybody up for failure.

I also involve the waitstaff, looking for their expertise and suggestions. Remember, this is a ‘social’ experience.

Good waitstaff is critical to the experience. They should present at the table within a couple minutes of seating, neat, clean and prepared to answer questions or offer information. Good service is completely unselfconscious. They don’t hover, regale you with chitchat, or ‘high hat’ you.

Oh, I don’t like background music in a restaurant particularly. I don’t expect you to share my musical taste, why do you expect me to like yours? The hum of other diners, the soft clatter of service and bit of noise from the bar or kitchen is enough ambiance.

We were back in a long established pastisserie the other day for breakfast, and I had to hunt down the waitstaff to get them to take our order. And they wonder why we don’t stop in more often?

But let’s get to the food.

I prefer simple food made with high quality ingredients to the overly elaborate. Frou-frou and odd flavor combinations don’t necessarily equate to innovation. Greatness comes when the chef or line cook thoroughly understands the ingredients to the point that they can allow them stand on their own. I also value authenticity. I’ll avoid the ersatz every time. This is one reason I can’t abide the casino buffet line. I also avoid Fusion or Pacific Rim restaurants most of the time, for the same reason. They’re trying too hard to be everything to everybody.

The very best food I’ve eaten, with the best dining experiences have inevitably been in modest surroundings, with the very best ingredients, prepared simply but with passion and experience. The owner’s goal was to beguile me with his best efforts. Locals, rather than chains, seem to get this.

I’m sad when I know local restauranteurs who have something they do very, very well and they don’t capitalize on it.

Truckee Bar and Grill, on the corner of Moana and Lakeside, does killer house-made soups that you’ll get nowhere else. I love the Cilantro soup, and the Albondigas. I combine a cup of soup with my usual - the half veggie sandwich, and fruit. Who would know unless I mentioned it? We probably eat there on an average of two to four times a week. Seriously. I ride my bike up there for breakfast, and then sometimes we all end up there for lunch on the same day. It’s a little embarrassing but I don’t care.

Here’s my TRBG ‘bike breakfast’ -

What does TRBG do right? Well, besides consistently superior service by Nancy, Linda and Alma, the fruit is always impeccably ripe and fresh. The bread is dense and real. What could be better? The eggs could be moister and fluffier. On the whole, however, it’s perfect sustenance for a cyclist (not too heavy). And, it’s not on the menu. What would I dream for? Grilled fish for breakfast. The price was around $9, with a drink.

Bistro 7 - a bit too pricey for a daily lunch experience, unless you’re on an expense account - still manages to delight and surprise me. Recently, I ordered two appetizers and found that the one, with a bit of tweaking, could make a standout light meal.

The waiter turned me on to this. I initially thought I wanted the grilled asparagus as a side to my Poke Wasabi. He asked if I’d rather have the asparagus with the fried egg on top.

“Oh, yes … I would.”

What did they do right? The waiter was generous with ideas. And this very toothsome idea of a perfectly cooked egg gently encased in a light as air breading, then deep fried is sheer brilliance. It was like opening a birthday present. The yolk was perfectly runny and ooooh, so savory. How would it have been better? Anchovies. Maybe some olives. A bit of shaved parmesan. Oh, and some crusty artisan bread to dip into the egg yolk. And this wasn’t on the menu, either - but engaging the social experience between myself and the waiter produced greatness. The price for my meal - around $18 without a drink.

Why don’t restaurants explore the Fifth Taste more? This dish would have been a great launching point for it. But I digress.

The Poke Wasabi was tamely unremarkable. Fine, if you’ve never spent time in Hilo, Hawaii.

The last, but not least, place we consider a ‘go to’ dining spot is the Dining Car coffee shop at Tamarack Junction. It’s really close to the house. The welcoming, friendly staff - which must have the lowest turnover in town - is delightful. I think low staff turnover says a lot for the operation. It’s very, very consistent, putting out a quality product - for a casino type operation. The Chicken Sausage Gumbo, Tomato Basil  or the Chicken Tortilla soups are favorites. I also suspect they are house made. They could offer a little more variety - just not the yucky Broccoli Cheese, Potato Cheese, Clam Chowder troika. A couple of lighter soup offering would be great.

What do they do right? They offer smaller portions. It’s plain coffee shop food done right. Crisp bacon isn’t burnt bacon in your BLT. They know their product and patrons. The price is absolutely right, with a senior discount. They also know how to appreciate regular patrons. It’s in the little ways, but I always know. They post the daily menu online. They are always ready and eager to work with you - especially on the banquet side. If you haven’t checked into banquets at Tamarack, you’re missing one of the best values in Reno. And some of the best banquet food.

So there you are. A few thoughts on what does it for me when dining out.

Evidently my opinions on food and dining have been noticed by some, and are regarded as not too silly or pretentious. That said, perhaps I’ll start branching out and talk about some other dining spots in the Reno area. Getting out of a rut is a good and necessary thing occasionally.

-maven

Hey, here’s an idea. Let me know what your favorite restaurant is and why you like it.