Personal essays
The importance of noticing
Arrival
Saturday night I checked into the Inn and thought I should eat something before I went to bed.
The last thing I’d eaten was the picnic breakfast the hotel in Cordoba had packed for me but that was a bus ride, five train rides, and a flight from Madrid to London ago.
The Inn’s pub was half full (or is that half empty - I never remember) and so I asked the hostess for a table for one or a spot at the bar.
She looked perplexed.
“I’ll have to ask the manager,” she said.
The manager came over, surveyed the half empty (half full?) dining room and said, “I think we can accommodate you.”
He seated me and asked if I would like some water.
He returned with a pitcher and noticed that there was no drinking glass at the table. He fetched a glass and asked if I was ready to order.
I asked what he recommended. He didn’t know. They’d changed the menu a few months back and he wasn’t sure.
Not a good sign.
I’m writing this because the following night I made a reservation for one at Sindhu and noted that I would like the tasting menu if they offered it for a table of one.
I arrived a few minutes early. One waiter seated me and another appeared with the tasting menu listing saying, “I believe you requested the tasting menu.”
I said I did but I was trying to decide among the various options. After a brief discussion, the waiter recommended the pescatarian version.
Bread
Back at the pub, I started with a small order of baguette with butter.
A waiter arrived with the bread basket and started to leave when I said, “excuse me.”
He turned expectantly.
“May I have a plate and a knife for the bread and butter?”
I don’t know if his look of surprise was because I’d asked or because they hadn’t been there already. I was amazed that he hadn’t noticed.
At Sindhu we started with a basket of papadum and two chutneys - one mango based and the other tomato based. Whenever my water was less than half full (more than half empty?), someone appeared to fill it. When I was done with any course someone appeared to clear the plate and replace any fork, knife or spoon that I’d used.
I say “someone” because it wasn’t always the same person. The entire staff was trained to pay attention and respond.
The main
I ordered the chicory and blue cheese salad at the pub. I would call it endive and blue cheese.
When I prepare it the large pale endive leaves are arranged on the bottom like flower petals and the walnuts, blue cheese, and either apple or pear slices are arranged in the middle. The effect is of a pretty flower. Often for additional color and contrast I’ll use add some red endive in the middle of each of the larger endive leaves.
This was not their approach. They added the ingredients in some random order. In the end all of the ingredients were there but they were arranged in the most unappealing way with the pale green leaves piled on top obscuring the rest of the ingredients.
I’ve worked the salad and dessert station at a really nice restaurant and felt this was deliberately bad.
The next night at Sindhu I did that obnoxious thing where I took pictures of every course.
The main was a halibut with a cream sauce that the waiter poured out of a conch shell. I know. A bit much - but really effective. On the side was a cup of rice, a cup of black lentils in a cream sauce, broccoli, and a beautiful naan.
How do I know it was a cup?
They were presented in one cup metal measures like I have at home. At the pub this might have felt tacky but in Sindhu it felt just right.
I know this is a whiny, “first world problems” kind of a post, but it’s amazing how simple it is to pay attention to the needs of your customer and how important it is.
Here I am recommending Sindhu in Marlow to you. Oh, and they were way more than half full.
Essay from Dim Sum Thinking Newsletter 288. Read the rest of the Newsletter or subscribe