STATEN ISLAND, N.Y. — Now that we’ve hit this milestone of birthdays — the Big 5-0 — it reminds of such celebrations in the restaurant business.
In our place, the former American Grill, part of the drill when training new servers and busboys was the stern “talk” about conversations with guests — no politics, no religion and no answer to anything remotely resembling the question, “How old do you think I really am?” For all of those topics, honest answers most likely offend.
This sentiment hopefully lives on now with another generation. My older son, Andrew, recently helped a friend as a busser at a catered birthday party. The guest of honor put our son on the spot with something along the lines of “How old do I look, kid?” Guarding our son against such precarious moments, my husband and I had earlier sat Andrew down to the birds-and-the-bees of working the front-of-the-house in a restaurant. As a result, he thankfully responded to the woman, “You don’t look a day over 29.” (Whew.)
Menu from the American Grill.Pamela Silvestri
Back in the day, birthdays at the American Grill rolled with our own version of “party,” more like a quiet riot. If we knew it was your special day, we’d type up a menu with your name and “Happy Birthday!” and dessert would have the same written in chocolate on a plate. These generally were hushed celebrations — no sparklers or train of clapping servers filing from the kitchen — unless we knew for sure the birthday girl or boy welcomed some version of the ol’ cheer.
Part of that muted mirth stemmed from something we learned over the course of doing business. One consideration happened on Sept. 11, 2001. It was a day on which which anniversaries and birthdays still went on, but it hardly seemed a time to be festive. Going forward, we just stopped the singing. And that led to a permanently tuned-down tradition at the restaurant. For better or worse, the practice was lauded particularly by one customer of Mennonite descent, who found the song shameful and boastful. Well, somewhere in there a happy birthday medium came to be.
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But, yes, there is the whole embarrassment factor of the “Happy Birthday” sung in a restaurant.
In high school, my St. Joseph Hill Academy pals would dine at Chi-Chi’s in New Dorp because of the way they did the whole shebang — sparklers in fried ice cream and an army of servers in a conga line coming through the dining room to YOU, the red-faced, bashful young creature thrust into the limelight for the performance’s duration. Even if it wasn’t your birthday a friend might put the happy birthday hit in motion just for the free dessert — or the hilarity of the surprise on an unsuspecting pal. (Tee hee.)
Restaurant workers are wise to juvenile tricks these days. Does this make them hardened to such celebrations as a result?
In the movie “Waiting,” a scene in a dysfunctional family-friendly restaurant plays out where the deed is illustrated as a pure chore, interrupting the normal flow of meal service. In one instance, the hostess tells the manager that some “old woman” wants the crew to sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to her grandson. The hostess says, “His name is Timmy...and he’s 8 years old!”
The crew claps loudly while parading to the table with a reworked military drill. And one of the waiters projects a “yeahhh” toward the bashful boy that sounds more like a man screaming an obnoxious cheer at a football game.
The “Waiting” actors chant, “I don’t know but I been told... someone here is getting old. Good news is dessert is free. Bad news is we sing off key.” With that, the gaggle of staff yell “Happy birthday...TO YOU!” And the meek child loses it and cries. I guess we’ve all had our screamers tableside belt out the ballad.
One of my most memorable birthdays in a restaurant happened at LeCirque 2000 in The Palace Hotel. It was a magical evening between the details of service and social scene. The memory doesn’t stick out for any particular celebratory ritual by the staff but for a coincidence in choice of clothing. My outfit that night was a white blazer and black slacks, something vaguely similar to what the busboys wore. So when I walked through the restaurant people would ask things like, “Can you tell me where the restrooms are?” or “Can I smoke at the bar?”
That was something to make a restaurant person smile — without the hassle of a song.
Pamela Silvestri is Advance Food Editor. She can be reached at silvestri@siadvance.com.
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June 27, 2021 at 05:01PM
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