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Big Pork for Leslie
Money might not buy love, or even happiness, but it will buy you just about anything you want at a restaurant. On a nightly basis I deal with a number of customer requests, some more reasonable than others. There are, of course, the ubiquitous sauce-on-the siders, those who are allergic to garlic and black pepper, who don't want any salt or butter and who can't eat starches. But then there are the customer's whose requests become not the exception but the expectation; requests made on a regular basis by repeat customers. The more flagrant of these customers become characters in the novel of a restaurant; they provide a source for humerous stories and fodder for future legends. Their whims are catered to because they are regular customers, and no restaurant turns away good business. Every Sunday since the restaurant has opened Leslie comes in for dinner at 6:30. Precisely. She studies the menu, she asks questions, and then she orders the same thing that she has been ordering every Sunday until the menu changes. After 224 consecutive Sunday's it's probably not necessary to repeat the special instructions as we all know them by heart. Leslie will ask for a soup de poisson, boiling hot. She wants a salmon pizza that is not on the menu, and a side dish of her own invention: mushrooms, sautéed greens, grilled fruit, and almonds that have no butter and little oil and are kept separated on the plate. Her entrée, usually pork or venison, must be the largest cut we have. "Big pork for Leslie" is what usually comes in on the bottom of the ticket. I myself have somehow obtained the responsibility of Leslie's entrée and side dish; I work on Sunday and she orders from my station. I must profess that I enjoy catering to her demands--meeting all of them is quite a challenge. Without fail she will complain about something. Without fail she will return the following Sunday to order the same thing. While Leslie always comes in on Sunday, sorbet boy's appearances are a bit more scattered. He comes in once a month or so, and always dines alone. He orders a full four course meal and enjoys it to the fullest. Although it is not common practice in our restaurant, he requests sorbet to cleanse his palate--in between every course. After the appetizer and the salad, after the main course and as a prelude to dessert, sorbet boy is served a small scoop of sorbet. It matters not what flavor we happen to have; melon, gin and tonic, even chocolate will do just fine. Regular customers like Leslie and sorbet boy are what make a restaurant unique. We cater to their requests because we appreciate their business, because they are loyal clientele. While their requests may be unusual, they're out there every week eating in our dining room. And perhaps most importantly--our jobs would be pretty boring without them. --Michelle Vernier |
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