Meatloaf, Tobacco & Butane

Ask Tom, and ye shall receive all manner of restaurant gripes

A periodic peek at The Post food critic's e-mail, voice mail and in-box.

CRAVING SOME COMFORT FOOD, John Schwartz dropped by Not Your Average Joe's in Leesburg, where he and his wife live. Schwartz wanted to try the chain restaurant's meatloaf and mashed potatoes, which he had seen on the menu on previous visits. "That's the worst item on our menu," he says a server told him. "It's very coarse, and not many people like it. I suggest you choose something else." And so he did, although he asked the server if she could bring a small sample of the meatloaf. She said she would check with a manager and returned to say the restaurant would not give him a taste.

In his e-mail, Schwartz says, "I'm pretty easygoing at restaurants and rarely make a specific request." He even guessed that the meatloaf might be "pre-proportioned, or that the chef didn't want the meatloaf sampled without its accompaniments." Ultimately, the reader says, he was turned off by the response of a restaurant "we would otherwise visit regularly, since it's near our home."

Alex Poluikis, a server-manager at Joe's, says the restaurant has no policy against offering samples, swears the meatloaf is good and tells me, "If Mr. Schwartz wants to come back, we'll give him a sample." Poluikis's response is in line with what a few restaurateurs at similarly priced dining rooms tell me: Offering a little taste is a sign of goodwill. On the other hand, one restaurateur points out, "Where does it stop?" What if a customer wants a sample of crab cakes or fish, which are among the costliest items on many menus? Meatloaf is one thing, a chef points out, but what if that meatloaf had been beef Wellington -- and dressed up with foie gras and truffles?

WASHINGTON READER KEN KATZ shared his recent wedding plans with me, which included a small dinner for nine people at Michel Richard Citronelle. The hitch? "We see from the Web site that Michel Richard will in fact not be at Citronelle that evening because he will be at the Pebble Beach Food & Wine Festival." Katz says he wanted some reassurance "from one who would know" that a meal sans the celebrated maestro would deliver four stars on the plate.

Having dined at the Georgetown destination more than once while Richard was away, I can attest that the quality of the food does not suffer in the chef-owner's absence. Citronelle's kitchen staff of 30 has been trained well, and the employees know what their boss expects. David Deshaies, the restaurant's executive chef, has been in that role four years, and in the kitchen for a total of seven years.

Customers who pay big bucks to sample the work of a top chef have a right to expect superior food. The truth is, top chefs tend to have a lot on their plates -- and some of them probably aren't cooking even when they're in the restaurant. Richard, who now counts Central Michel Richard downtown and two new restaurants in California in his portfolio, is a presence at Citronelle every day he's in Washington, according to his spokeswoman, Mel Davis. "He hates to be away from his kitchen." Out-of-town trips are limited to no more than two weekends a month, if that, she says.

At this point in his illustrious career, Richard's chief role is inspiring his staff, overseeing quality and creating new dishes, something "you can't do at night" with a full house, Davis says.

"WHY DO PEOPLE think it is okay to bring desserts to restaurants?" asks Mary Abraham Reid in an e-mail. "It seems as if people forget restaurants are in the business of selling food, not renting space," continues the co-owner of Del Merei Grille in Alexandria. The restaurateur says she's had everything from cupcakes to "giant sheet cakes from Costco" come through the doors of her small neighborhood dining room. "I realize we're in the hospitality business," she says in a follow-up telephone conversation, "but I need to pay my bills."

Like a lot of the competition, Del Merei Grille charges a cake-cutting fee ($2.25) that covers the cost of a server's time, dish washing and, sometimes, storage and the bundling of leftovers. Diners are informed of the policy over the phone or at the restaurant. So, what should a diner do if she absolutely, positively wants to bring grandmother's chocolate bundt cake to celebrate a life moment away from home? With advance notice, most restaurants can make, or arrange to order, special requests. The alternative is for the customer to pay the restaurant's plate charge -- or enjoy the cake at home

DURING ONE OF MY recent online discussions, in response to a participant who complained about a server who reeked of cigarette smoke, I heard from a chatter who said he was a smoker and former restaurant worker.

"There are a few things every staffer needs to remember. The most important is: No diner wants to know about" the smoking, wrote the anonymous chatter. "I was terribly paranoid that my customers would know that I had taken a 'break,' so I always employed a few tricks that eventually my co-workers adopted as well." His method included washing his hands immediately; using a mild spray to cover the smell of any residue on the clothes (a light vanilla worked for this individual); and smoking out of view of diners -- "never, ever smoke by the front door," he said.

Having been the victim of a waiter who smoked during his shift, and my dinner, not long ago, I'd add another suggestion: Scope makes a great chaser for Crest.

IN A GENERALLY POSITIVE REVIEW of Marvin restaurant in Washington [Magazine, March 23], I agreed with a dining companion who thought the baby-back ribs smacked of lighter fluid. The assessment prompted Lawrence W. Watthey of Frederick to e-mail: "I can appreciate the need for metaphors and colorful language in reviewing food, but I have to wonder if you actually have a working knowledge of the flavor of lighter fluid and what the circumstances might be surrounding such dedication to palate development."

I must admit, my contact with lighter fluid is limited to its aroma and feel (having stood too close to grill cooks on several occasions). My reference to the flammable liquid is what I imagine the stuff tastes like and what I think readers can relate to. But having recently read a passage in a wine essay about the minerality of chablis, which comes in part from the limestone beneath the French vineyards, I know where Watthey is coming from. To make the comparison, a wine drinker would have to have sampled limestone. I can also appreciate the reader's cheeky humor. Watthey calls himself "a bit of a butane snob."

The regular Dining column will return next week.Got a dining question? Send your thoughts, wishes and, yes, even gripes to asktom@washpost.com or to Ask Tom, The Washington Post Magazine, 1150 15th St. NW, Washington, D.C. 20071. Please include daytime telephone number.