Priyan R Naik

We went to our usual Chinese restaurant recently, my wife, son, daughter-in-law and I. Ordering dinner in a restaurant ought to be quite simple.  You sit down, look at the menu, decide what you would like to eat and tell the waiter. Yet, when four members of a family sit around a table, even this simple exercise becomes quite complex.  There is something amusing about the way restaurants assess a table. Understandably the staff at the restaurant, try to work out who is likely to make the decisions usually ignoring  the older generation.

Not wanting to scan his QR code for the menu, we ask for a ‘hard copy’. The steward hears ‘hot coffee’ and gleefully announces it is not available. Intriguing isn’t it, when they serve hot soup why not serve hot coffee as well? The steward ignores our question and places the menu in front of my daughter-in-law, even while trying to figure out who is the decision maker among us. Perhaps experience has taught him that the young are more likely to know their way around unfamiliar menus. Or perhaps they have simply noticed who is more confidently discussing the starters, quietly settling for my daughter-in-law. She knows much more about Chinese food than I do and is familiar with the various starters, sauces and combinations. I was asked to choose a few things, which was generous of her, although everyone knew what the final result would be.
I have discovered that I am considerably better at saying what I don’t want than deciding what I do want. Give me a menu and I can quickly eliminate several possibilities. I don’t want anything too spicy, I don’t want something excessively oily, I don’t want too much gravy and I definitely do not want something we have eaten several times before. When it comes to saying what I actually want, however, I get ‘brain-fog’ and am less certain.
The ordering proceeds with my daughter-in-law making most of the decisions and occasionally asking me what I think. This time the steward came out with another suggestion. A seafood festival is on and a persuasive case is made out for ordering lobsters. Curious about his persistence, we politely resist three of his attempts finally settling for honey wrapped shrimps with finely burnt walnuts. It turns out to be a good choice, and I am quite happy to take credit for having agreed to go along with it.
The food arrives and I discover I have been given a round plate while everyone else has square ones, leaving me wondering why I have been singled out for this distinction. Was it accidental, or does the restaurant have a theory about which shape is appropriate for which customer? I ask the waiter, who sheepishly says he can replace the plate. I do not insist. A round plate gave me a topic for discussion.
The final complication comes with the bill. The waiter appears uncertain about who to hand it over to? He looks around before my son takes charge and picks up the tab. By then, I am beginning to think that ordering dinner involves far more decision-making than I had imagined. There is the menu, the suggestions from the restaurant, the family’s preferences, the question of who is actually choosing and, finally, the question of who is paying?
Yet there is one decision on which we all agree. The waiter has been unusually friendly throughout the meal, and his good service deserves recognition. We leave  a generous tip. As for the complicated business of ordering dinner, I am quite happy to leave most of it to the younger generation. I will continue to do what I do best: explain what I don’t want and okay what eventually arrives.

Priyan R Naik