//features//
Spring 2020
Spring 2020
I Love Dressing up to go Dining
Meredith Harris
I wrote the following piece in January 2020. I was completely oblivious to the impending public health crisis that would decimate communities and leave a scar that may change how they function forever.
Many of the losses from Covid-19 are calculable. Over 100,000 lives lost. Forty million jobs lost. These statistics help create a shock value, and computing the data helps to present a fuller picture of the issue at hand.
But there's a point at which viewers become numb to numbers. Numbers represent a specific quantity, yet when overused, they can lose their value. The difference between words and numbers takes shape in the reality of human experience. We cannot live our lives as statistics; we must embrace the stories that have shaped us. Storytelling substantiates the human experience due to its ability to evoke memory. The emotional connection that words impart illuminates the human necessity to equally value qualitative data alongside quantitative.
Keeping communities safe must be the priority of all global leaders at this time. Yet the coronavirus pandemic has accentuated the importance of the economic well-being of communities. Comparing the statistics of the job market alongside mortality has come under fire particularly between political parties. And comprehending these statistics as the lives of individual people makes the entire situation even more dire.
All businesses require computation, as their success depends upon a calculable profit. Yet many businesses, particularly bars and restaurants, focus heavily on their social function, often leading to the demise of their profitability. Up to 90% of new restaurants fail within a year. Yet the industry continues to expand, innovate, and thrive, because the experience of dining is important to the social fabric of communities. Restaurants are the compromise between words and numbers; they serve to create memorable experiences, but cannot function without a profit.
Many industries have suffered as a result of the virus. It comes as no surprise that the restaurant industry has been “cancelled,” in part, due to its aforementioned weakness of accounting. However, I am confident that the industry will return stronger. I’m curious to see how it will be reshaped by the ongoing embrace of tech, the battle between cost and sustainability, and its efforts to function more inclusively upon its reemergence. While we can’t experience dining at this moment, we can reflect on the successes and magic of restaurants past, and plan for how they might function in the future. Now, please enjoy my lamentations:
Fast-casual restaurants, pick-up, and delivery have minimized the experience of dining. Meals have become more focused on convenience, and as a result, people care less about physical restaurants. When society reshaped the restaurant into a casual setting, it took away its glamour. A sandwich shop, casual it should be. But to devalue the experience of dining or remove it entirely, and give prominence to take-out or delivery, will ruin the industry’s M.O.
We should not forgo going out and set ordering-in as the norm. Delivery in particular reduces interaction on all fronts. You can order-in and have food delivered by a person who has neither heard your voice nor seen your face. Millennials and Gen-Zers? They love that. Yet they forget the fact that they are eating a meal for which a chef slaved over the recipe, a purveyor tirelessly provided the ingredients, a receiver confirmed the food’s quality, a line cook carefully executed the dish, and a delivery person eventually transported it to their door. The delivered dish is further fueling the disconnect between the diner and their curiosity towards their food.
People are paying greater attention to the quality of their food, but less attention to the restaurant experience itself. The lack of care towards one’s dining experience has harmed the ability for actual restaurants to survive alongside to-go spots. And within an actual restaurant, the value of its food might be up to a 10, yet its diners can dress down to a 5. Even customers’ interactions with their servers and maître d's have declined in terms of respect. We can't all be Alinea or Eleven Madison Park. Not every server has the opportunity to know which forest their chanterelle mushrooms were foraged from. Yet we need to preserve the dignity of dining so that we can stay invested in the holistic process and experience of eating. If we eliminate interactions with servers and kitchens, will we reduce our interactions with each other over food?
Not so long ago, the definition of dining implied an experience available only to the rich. Yet dining today varies significantly in terms of price range and environment. No matter where a restaurant stands on the spectrum, all deserve the respect from diners to play their part in their meal. Considering one’s appearance, no matter what feels comfortable and special to the diner, and demonstrating respectful behavior acknowledges the effort the restaurant exerted to create a heavily thought-out experience. Society may no longer treat flying on planes as a case for formal attire, and decreasingly does so for Broadway plays. However, if diners return to indulging with style, maybe they will recognize the value of the experience in which they are taking part.
I love dressing up to go dining (that's the name of the article!). I love caring so much about how special the meal I am about to experience will be, so much so that I make the effort to leave my house and even dress-up for it. Chefs that continue to serve quality food deserve to be celebrated. And the experience that a restaurant fosters is a lot more fun when its diners demonstrate their appreciation.
Why shouldn't a moderately priced restaurant be something to dress up for? When did people stop caring and recognizing that the food in front of them didn't just appear? The well-oiled machine that comprises the workforce of a restaurant works tirelessly for the experience that they help to create every day. Like a theatrical performance, working in a restaurant each night is like putting on a show. If we want dining to continue to be a social experience, we need to support the restaurants who are invested in telling stories and creating memories. Now go put on a nice outfit, walk out of your house, and start experiencing your food.
PS: The act of dining may not be possible at the moment, and delivery has become a lifeline for restaurants. Please support restaurants as much as you can, so that the opportunity to dine returns once this all dies down. If anything, do it for my sake.
//MEREDITH HARRIS is a junior at Barnard College and The Jewish Theological Seminary with restaurant industry experience, and she serves as a Senior Editor for The Current. She can be reached at mnh212@barnard.edu.
Photo Courtesy of Karsten Moran for the New York Times
Many of the losses from Covid-19 are calculable. Over 100,000 lives lost. Forty million jobs lost. These statistics help create a shock value, and computing the data helps to present a fuller picture of the issue at hand.
But there's a point at which viewers become numb to numbers. Numbers represent a specific quantity, yet when overused, they can lose their value. The difference between words and numbers takes shape in the reality of human experience. We cannot live our lives as statistics; we must embrace the stories that have shaped us. Storytelling substantiates the human experience due to its ability to evoke memory. The emotional connection that words impart illuminates the human necessity to equally value qualitative data alongside quantitative.
Keeping communities safe must be the priority of all global leaders at this time. Yet the coronavirus pandemic has accentuated the importance of the economic well-being of communities. Comparing the statistics of the job market alongside mortality has come under fire particularly between political parties. And comprehending these statistics as the lives of individual people makes the entire situation even more dire.
All businesses require computation, as their success depends upon a calculable profit. Yet many businesses, particularly bars and restaurants, focus heavily on their social function, often leading to the demise of their profitability. Up to 90% of new restaurants fail within a year. Yet the industry continues to expand, innovate, and thrive, because the experience of dining is important to the social fabric of communities. Restaurants are the compromise between words and numbers; they serve to create memorable experiences, but cannot function without a profit.
Many industries have suffered as a result of the virus. It comes as no surprise that the restaurant industry has been “cancelled,” in part, due to its aforementioned weakness of accounting. However, I am confident that the industry will return stronger. I’m curious to see how it will be reshaped by the ongoing embrace of tech, the battle between cost and sustainability, and its efforts to function more inclusively upon its reemergence. While we can’t experience dining at this moment, we can reflect on the successes and magic of restaurants past, and plan for how they might function in the future. Now, please enjoy my lamentations:
Fast-casual restaurants, pick-up, and delivery have minimized the experience of dining. Meals have become more focused on convenience, and as a result, people care less about physical restaurants. When society reshaped the restaurant into a casual setting, it took away its glamour. A sandwich shop, casual it should be. But to devalue the experience of dining or remove it entirely, and give prominence to take-out or delivery, will ruin the industry’s M.O.
We should not forgo going out and set ordering-in as the norm. Delivery in particular reduces interaction on all fronts. You can order-in and have food delivered by a person who has neither heard your voice nor seen your face. Millennials and Gen-Zers? They love that. Yet they forget the fact that they are eating a meal for which a chef slaved over the recipe, a purveyor tirelessly provided the ingredients, a receiver confirmed the food’s quality, a line cook carefully executed the dish, and a delivery person eventually transported it to their door. The delivered dish is further fueling the disconnect between the diner and their curiosity towards their food.
People are paying greater attention to the quality of their food, but less attention to the restaurant experience itself. The lack of care towards one’s dining experience has harmed the ability for actual restaurants to survive alongside to-go spots. And within an actual restaurant, the value of its food might be up to a 10, yet its diners can dress down to a 5. Even customers’ interactions with their servers and maître d's have declined in terms of respect. We can't all be Alinea or Eleven Madison Park. Not every server has the opportunity to know which forest their chanterelle mushrooms were foraged from. Yet we need to preserve the dignity of dining so that we can stay invested in the holistic process and experience of eating. If we eliminate interactions with servers and kitchens, will we reduce our interactions with each other over food?
Not so long ago, the definition of dining implied an experience available only to the rich. Yet dining today varies significantly in terms of price range and environment. No matter where a restaurant stands on the spectrum, all deserve the respect from diners to play their part in their meal. Considering one’s appearance, no matter what feels comfortable and special to the diner, and demonstrating respectful behavior acknowledges the effort the restaurant exerted to create a heavily thought-out experience. Society may no longer treat flying on planes as a case for formal attire, and decreasingly does so for Broadway plays. However, if diners return to indulging with style, maybe they will recognize the value of the experience in which they are taking part.
I love dressing up to go dining (that's the name of the article!). I love caring so much about how special the meal I am about to experience will be, so much so that I make the effort to leave my house and even dress-up for it. Chefs that continue to serve quality food deserve to be celebrated. And the experience that a restaurant fosters is a lot more fun when its diners demonstrate their appreciation.
Why shouldn't a moderately priced restaurant be something to dress up for? When did people stop caring and recognizing that the food in front of them didn't just appear? The well-oiled machine that comprises the workforce of a restaurant works tirelessly for the experience that they help to create every day. Like a theatrical performance, working in a restaurant each night is like putting on a show. If we want dining to continue to be a social experience, we need to support the restaurants who are invested in telling stories and creating memories. Now go put on a nice outfit, walk out of your house, and start experiencing your food.
PS: The act of dining may not be possible at the moment, and delivery has become a lifeline for restaurants. Please support restaurants as much as you can, so that the opportunity to dine returns once this all dies down. If anything, do it for my sake.
//MEREDITH HARRIS is a junior at Barnard College and The Jewish Theological Seminary with restaurant industry experience, and she serves as a Senior Editor for The Current. She can be reached at mnh212@barnard.edu.
Photo Courtesy of Karsten Moran for the New York Times