Welcome to Talk to Tom, the dining-advice column that aims to point you toward good meals, steer you from the dross and solve your pressing restaurant queries. Look for a fresh Q&A every Thursday in this space.
Questions and comments can be submitted to TalkToTom@washingtonsun.com. Submissions may be edited for length and clarity.
What’s up with the extra charges on menus these days? Just give me honest menu prices!
Few things upset diners more right now than getting a bill with items they didn’t order — the credit card processing fee here and the “kitchen wellness” surcharge there. The terminology for surcharges isn’t standardized and customers are often left to wonder what the real cost of their meal is going to be.
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Restaurateurs say they want to be transparent with customers, since the cost of food, labor — everything, really — has gone up. Diners tell me they feel nickel-and-dimed by what they see on their check.
I sympathize with both camps.
There are several reasons operators don’t want to simply raise menu prices. One, they want customers to know exactly where a fee is going, meaning it’s for something specific. (Businesses pay about 2% to 3% of a credit card transaction, for instance.) Two, they worry about how a price change affects competition from nearby restaurants and delivery services. Three, changing prices means reprinting menus, updating websites and other systems.
Ultimately, no restaurant wants to be the first on its block to charge $40 for roast chicken.
“I think there is a distrust of restaurants generally and a lack of respect as a blue-collar industry which puts us in this situation,” says veteran D.C. chef Amy Brandwein of the neighboring Centrolina and Piccolina in CityCenter. “Other industries decide their prices and consumers don’t analyze the cost of an iPhone, for example. Because food is something that most people can ‘make’ it leads to an unfair comparison.”
How can we put a stop to restaurants that send out entrées on the heels of appetizers?
Aren’t we all tired of places where servers ask diners to order everything at once, “so the chef can course things out,” only to have the whole shebang come out at once?
Been there, hated that.
One way to head off the problem is to politely tell your server from the start you’d prefer the main course be brought after you’ve finished your appetizer. Then, if your entrée arrives prematurely, say something immediately rather than accept the plate (which can cause a second problem by crowding the table).
Not long ago, I was at a restaurant where servers brought everything we ordered simultaneously, expecting us to make space for the pileup on a small table. Instead, I asked if the staff could return the entrées to the kitchen, because otherwise, we would have had to surrender a votive and flowers — part of the ambience — in the process. They complied.
There are exceptions based on expectations. Nobody supposes tapas purveyors or dim sum parlors — small plates specialists — should adhere to similar pacing, for instance.
I’m coming to town and staying in Georgetown. I’d like to eat there, too.
You’re in luck. The historic neighborhood, which lost some of its appeal as a place to eat over the years as hot spots opened in Penn Quarter, 14th Street NW, Union Market, Shaw and elsewhere, is enjoying a second act as a dining destination in the District.
It was already home to a number of impressive restaurants: Chez Billy Sud for bistro fare, L’Avant-Garde and Lutèce for refined French, My Little Chamomile for Turkish, River Club for Italian/Lebanese/Spanish — fusion that works — and the Levantine-inspired Yellow café from the admired chef Michael Rafidi of Albi fame. The area has only gotten more appealing in recent seasons with the arrival of Ox & Olive for steak, Brasero Atlantico for Argentinean flavors and Alfie’s for northeastern Thai.
My most recent visits to Georgetown prompted me to put My Little Chamomile and L’Avant-Garde in my restaurant rotation. The former, from Turkish chef Cagla Onal-Urel, showcases small plates and a vegetable-driven menu. I like to go with a group to sample the lot. Double up on the Istanbul native’s sublime manti — sheer, beef-filled dumplings draped in tangy yogurt freckled with dried mint and sumac — and any new idea the chef picked up from her summer back home.
As for L’Avant-Garde, where Sébastien Giannini heads the kitchen, you can see where the owners poured $3 million to open several years ago. The low-ceiling bar and dining room are beauties. Picture ribs of wood stretching across the walls, cab-size semicircular booths, marble coasters for your drinks and lighting that flatters. The prized seats embrace a view of a crackling fire, an especially seductive touch as summer segues into fall. Among the standouts at dinner were a pastry-crowned lobster bouillabaisse and thin, golden veal cutlet finished with gribiche sauce and served with peerless french fries that nearly finished me. You can’t stop at one (or 10).
I want to try Ethiopian for the first time. Where should I go?
Silver Spring, Maryland. That’s where you’ll find Beteseb Restaurant and a physical menu shaped like a round of injera with colorful photos of some of the dishes you can order. (Injera, you’re about to discover, is both a sour, sponge-like flatbread and a utensil for wrapping around Ethiopian stews and salads.)
The 50-seat storefront is nicely dressed with walls in a shade of yellow lentils and a silver-toned silhouette of Addis Ababa. The signatures include a dynamite vegetarian sampler and kitfo, Ethiopia’s fiery answer to steak tartare, as well as a favorite dish of mine: boiled, ground beef tripe spiked with jalapeño, the spice blend mitmita and cardamom.
Beteseb translates from Amharic to “family,” which is pretty much how the staff makes you feel while dining there.
Hey Tom! I’m so glad to be able to enjoy your work again. Of the many server vocal tics we are enduring these days, the question “Are you still working on that?” particularly gets me steamed. It evokes such an awful image.
Copy that, servers? Consider this your PSA for the day.
There’s the option of simmering in silence, but if the question bothers you enough to write to me, you might consider (gently) correcting them with something that falls easier on your ears. As in, “Working sounds like a task, and this is joyful,” or, a cheekier approach: “Working is for field animals. But if you’re asking if I’m finished eating, yes, I am, thank you.” Said with a smile, the response serves as a playful correction.
There are plenty of polite ways for a server to ask if someone is done eating. “May I remove your plate?” is one. “May I take this out of your way?” and “Are you all set with this?” work better than “work,” too.
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