Fay Maschler - Biting Talk - Don't Call Me Lady

And I can pour my own wine, too, thank you. When you eat out for a living, writes WFI's columnist, petty annoyances can become intensely irritating

Reporting on restaurants for the London Evening Standard is my livelihood and I love it. Even after 31 years of going out to eat on the job, I get a little adrenaline rush as I sit down at a restaurant table, look at the shining cutlery, the sparkling glassware and the white napery that set the scene for a meal to arrive.

Of course, there might be no tablecloth. A glass may have water spots. Chopsticks might replace knife and fork. A squeezy red plastic ketchup container in the shape of a tomato might herald a different kind of meal; still I can get excited. But I am not so Pollyanna-ish, dim or greedy that I don't find that certain elements and aspects of restaurant behaviour drive me wild. You probably have your own list. This is mine.

1. You arrive at a conventional dining time and find a more-or-less empty restaurant. Short of the arrival of the Charge of the Light Brigade, the room is not suddenly going to fill, yet the person leading you to a table chooses the worst in the room. This has happened to me so often that I begin to think there must be a restaurant manual floating around which advises on filling the tiniest, most undesirable tables first. Usually, all you have to do is ask to move and you can, as long as you don't mind a look from the manager/waiter of 'What does it matter to me where you sit?'
2. As a woman hosting the meal, you ask for the wine list and choose a bottle. The wine is brought, shown to a male guest and poured for him to try. Given the prominence of women wine writers and buyers nowadays, this seems a curious anachronism on the part of waiters. Maybe it is sometimes just misplaced gallantry.
3. You are chatting away to your companion, and have just embarked on a spectacular piece of gossip of mutual interest. Just as you reach the telling detail, the waiter interrupts with 'Who's the veal?' It is not rocket science to remember who ordered what. It could be incorporated into the graphics of an order pad. And while I'm on the subject, we have all those times on which the waiter interrupts to enquire 'Is everything is all right?' Of course, the waiter is not interested in listening to the answer and if you replied, 'Actually no, the food is disgusting and I have just discovered that my friend here is sleeping with my husband' he or she would probably say, 'That's good'.
4. Is the sea salt and the coarsely ground pepper that is left in little bowls on the table thought to be wholesome and organic? It is just deeply unhygienic.
5. The little freebies - those dishes that arrive 'compliments of the chef' - fool no one. They have all been costed into the price structure and are ready-plated; their delivery giving the kitchen more time to prepare the courses to come. They are the same for everyone and, as such, often don't fit in with the rest of your order or the wine you've chosen. They can spoil the appetite for the dish you really wanted. They are false magnanimity.
6. Wine pouring should not be used as a means of attrition and manipulation. Bottles taken to a far corner of the room or put in a communal ice bucket - giving you cause to fret in case another table benefits from your lashing out on a bottle of Meursault - take away control of how you want to pace your drinking. As does the waiter who tops up glasses of wine and water after every single sip, usually filling the glasses much too full.
7. When two or more women eat out together, why are they invariably addressed collectively as -ladies', as in, 'Would you ladies like a drink?' A man and a woman out together are not interrogated as a lady and a gent.
8. It is sometimes claimed that the music in restaurants is for the benefit of the staff, which makes it odd that they seem deaf to its allure, often letting one tape play over and over. This same insensitivity to noise applies to banging doors, creaking hinges and pinging tills.
9. In an ambitious haute cuisine restaurant, predicated on the best French food and complete with a service brigade with as many ranks as the army, why does the maitre d'h�tel have to translate and explain every dish on the menu as if the customer has never eaten anything like these assemblies before? And even though your ears will have switched off and your brain closed down while he does so, is it really necessary for him to describe in full the dishes finally chosen when they are brought to the table and the silver cloches are whisked away?
10. Restaurants are part of a business that is sometimes referred to as the hospitality industry. Getting the member of staff who speaks the least English to answer the telephone to take a booking for a meal gets the event off to a shaky start. The species I call -the deskbat' who likes to open a dialogue with the customer by saying 'Have you got a booking?' while staring grimly at a ledger, looking as if attempting to decode Linear B, perpetuates the idea that restaurants are not there for the pleasure of customers. A warm welcome and friendly behaviour is so absolutely, utterly important. Many successful restaurants have got by for a long time on not very much else.

Which restaurant practices really get up your nose? We'd love to hear from you. Write to us or send an email to food@jbcp.co.uk.