Illustration by Heather Palmateer via Adobe Stock
Growing up, I always felt it was easier to write things down to communicate my feelings. Something about being put on the spot in conversation caused me to flub my words or have those “Man, I wish I had said that instead” moments. It taught me that it can be helpful to sit with words before speaking them. It allows for more reflection and less reaction. In fact, writing this piece helped me realize that the original topic I’d jotted down regarding service was actually a discussion of something larger: hospitality.
Will Guidara, a restaurant guru, the former owner of the acclaimed Eleven Madison Park and author of “Unreasonable Hospitality” (the book made an appearance in the most recent season of the FX series “The Bear” when Carm sends Richie to stage at a three-star Michelin restaurant), says it best.
“‘Black and white’ means you’re doing your job with competence and efficiency; ‘color’ means you make people feel great about the job you’re doing for them. Getting the right plate to the right person at the right table is service. But genuinely engaging with the person you’re serving, so you can make an authentic connection — that’s hospitality.”
I love our restaurants in Richmond, but I want them to have more color. One of the reasons restaurants exist is to dim the harshness of the world. For an hour or two or three, we’re safe inside those four walls. Sliding into the seat at your favorite spot feels like a sigh of relief. Finally, I’m here.
But if I go out to eat at a beloved establishment and my server disappears for 45 minutes after the mains hit the table, if I feel like a nuisance at my go-to lunch spot for not ordering quickly enough, or if I’m asked if I’m ready for the check when I’m still waiting on food to arrive (which happened multiple times while dining at one of the more highly regarded restaurants in the city), the foundation of that safe place is cracked. The outside begins to peer through.
For the third year in a row, Richmond restaurants didn’t receive any nominations from the James Beard Foundation. My gut (and a bit of inside intel) tells me that signs point to service. While awards aren’t the defining end-all be-all, there’s also no denying that being nominated is a sign of excellence. When I dine out in other cities or talk with friends who have returned from recent trips, being wowed by the front-of-house ethos is a common thread, even after we remove the rose-colored vacationers’ glasses. Richmond is wildly loyal to its restaurants, and I often wonder if that dedication makes it difficult to have thoughtful, honest discourse about the dining scene.
The bottom line: We need great service to unlock great hospitality. Great hospitality can outshine a middling meal, but indifferent service diminishes what’s on the plate, no matter how outstanding. When hospitality is absent, dining out can start to feel like a transaction rather than an experience, especially with today’s price tags.
Of course, systemic issues rooted in the industry play a part, but it’s important to think about our purpose, why we do what we do. This isn’t to say there aren’t exceptional restaurants or front-of-house workers in Richmond, or that they should bear full responsibility for guests’ happiness once inside the door, but they do have the power to make someone’s day better and brighter. And that’s pretty special.
Guidara also points out that hospitality is a team sport and that it starts with empathy, or one’s ability to share the feelings of another. So, RVADine, consider this a devoted teammate sharing theirs.
