Tip Top

I’ve been reading another blog fairly often lately – waiterrant.net. It’s written by a waiter in a fairly high-class New York restaurant, who has some of the most amazingly rude and clueless customers. Of course, he also touches on events from his personal life, and his political opinions. He’s a pretty good read, definitely worth going back through the archives.

But reading that reminded me of something that has bothered me for years. Why is a tip always a percentage of the bill? My wife waited tables at Pizza Hut, once upon a time. A check there runs in the $10-$30 range, more or less and depending on the size of the party, so her tips should be average around three or four bucks a table. A friend of ours worked the tables at Bob Evans for a little while, where the checks are probably about that same range, maybe a little higher. Meanwhile, a waiter at Applebee’s, or Friday’s, or Red Lobster is getting tipped on checks in the $30-$100 range – call it an average tip around $10. Is he really working any harder than Rita, or our friend at Bob Evans? “Waiter,” the author of Waiter Rant, is getting tips on checks that probably range from $50 to $500…though that top end probably includes an expensive wine, and one does not usually tip for the full value of an expensive vintage. Still, he’s probably pulling in $25 or higher tips on a regular basis, and sometimes MUCH higher. Is it that much harder to carry a plateful of more expensive food?

While I’m at it, why am I tipping so high, anyway? Let’s go back to Rita and our friend at Bob Evans. A good waiter or waitress can probably handle 6 tables or more at a time. If they all tip correctly (15%-20% for normal good service, more for something special), that means they should be pocketing around 20 bucks an hour in tips. Of course, they don’t always have full tables…and not everyone tips at all, let alone correctly. That cuts into their average a lot – they’re probably lucky to get a quarter of that, which doesn’t quite meet minimum wage.

On the other hand, using those same guesses, the guy at Macaroni Grill is probably making $15 an hour, and Waiter is bringing down $35. And if people really did tip properly, you could double those numbers. Why am I tipping people at a rate that would be more than my own paycheck? And if anybody currently waiting tables is reading…how much do you REALLY make an hour? You can leave your answer anonymously – I’m not the IRS, I’m just curious.

Don’t get me wrong – I’m a firm believer in tipping waitpersons. They really have to be bad to make me drop the tip to 10%...and it takes active rudeness to make me not leave a tip. I have no plans to change that, either. But it sure adds a chunk to the cost of the meal – enough to keep me eating at home more often…unfortunately for Rita, who has to cook!

A Tasteful Hobby

I found a man with an amazingly expensive hobby. We went to a small restaurant in Indianapolis, named Shultz's. It didn't look like much, inside or outside, but my dad had been there once before and recommended it highly. Just as we were seated, the waiter came to take our drink orders, dropping off two baskets of appetizers before we could think about ordering them. One basket contained fried biscuits and apple butter - not an unknown dish in Indiana, where if we can't fry it, it must not be edible. But these had the light, fluffy, smooth texture of store-bought biscuits, cobined with the flavor of homemade, fried to a beautiful and even golden-brown. The other basket held tortilla chips and pico de gallo - again, standard fare, but not done like this. The chips were actual tortilla shells, cut in quarters and deep-fried to a flaky, crispy perfection, then lightly salted and delivered to the table still too hot to eat...though they were too good for that to stop us. The pico was merely very good - fresh, chunky, maybe a little too mild. After all, we were in Indiana, where hot sauce is an import.

I looked over the menu and saw several tempting options, but my father took the choice away from us, and we had a true Hoosier standard - pork tenderloin sandwiches and onion rings. Only five onion rings in an order, hardly enough for a side dish, I thought, but he only asked for two helpings to share between the four of us. When they arrived, I understood. If you take a large onion, cut it in half, then separate the layers and dip and fry the resulting bowl-sized pieces, you get these onion rings. That will, of course, leave several smaller pieces from the center of the onion, which were used to wonderful effect in the french onion soup my son ordered. The onion bits were thick in that bowl...once you made it through the thick layer of melted cheese and croutons. I'm not a fan, myself, but Michael has ordered french onion soup in a dozen places, and was looking forward to going back to Schultz's again, where he knew he could get it the way it should be.

Tenderloin sandwiches, like I said, are a Hoosier standard - I ate them in school lunches, and have fried up the frozen ones you can find in the grocery. I've even had the really good ones, dinner-plate sized, with the better breading, that you find in your better class of home-cooking-style restaurants. But I've never had one before that was not only the size of the plate, but thicker than a ham slice and tender as a good steak. The breading was not the normal cumbs, but a light coating that enhanced the flavor of the pork without covering it. I don't believe I'll ever be able to order a tenderloin anywhere else, ever again - there's just too little chance of finding it's equal.

I looked the prices over, too. About the same as you would expect from a "family-night-out" restaurant chain, like Friday's or Applebee's, or maybe a little bit lower. Of course, that only counts the food we actually paid for, as those unordered appetizers were "on the house." The only explanation is that we had found a restauranteur who truly loved his food, and wanted to share it with the world...and we were fortunate enough to benefit from his generosity. Meanwhile, he was planning to open up another couple of stores, then maybe franchise it out, perhaps eventually introducing a quality pork tenderloin somewhere outside the Midwest.

We went back on Saturday, and found a sign on the door. It thanked the regulars for their patronage, then added "but there were too few of you." Schultz's has closed for good. From Dad's conversation with the owner, it seems that this was his ninth attempt at owning a restaurant, and this one lasted a mere four months. It's got to be an incredibly expensive hobby - opening new restaurants, letting his few customers discover his wonderful food, then being forced to close down again in but a few months. If he ever decides to open number ten, though, and if I manage to hear about it, he can count on seeing me for dinner.