One diner's set menu is another's pet peeve

Valentine’s Day, New Year’s Eve, birthdays … fun landmark calendar dates throughout the year to be celebrated with others. Right? Well, from where I’m sitting: wrong! Because I’m sitting at a table with a set menu in my hands and I’m not happy about it.

The thing I dread most (apart from being stranded in shark-infested waters and going to prison for something I haven’t done – like The A-Team) is arriving at a restaurant to be handed a Post-it-sized menu and told: “Tonight is our [insert culinary region/landmark calendar date] set menu.”

Let’s workshop two culinary scenarios.

Restaurant on December 30: Welcome, please take a seat. Look at all these delicious items on the menu, often dozens of dishes. Plus, all your favourites, each one ready to be cooked to order and served to you fresh.

Restaurant on December 31: Please sign over the financial rights to your property and/or children up front as collateral. Here’s the set menu. You’ll see we have reduced the usual offerings by approximately seven eighths. You may choose one item from the choice of one item. If you ask to swap anything, the chef will come to your table and show you the meaning of pain using a potato masher and an industrial whisk.

Did you spot the difference between those two scenes? It’s not subtle, but I’ll still spell it out. It’s the difference between culinary democracy and dictatorship. And to that I, for one, say boo.

The scourge of the discerning eater

Of course, I understand why restaurants have set menus.

They allow the chef to order the exact items for maximum profit and minimum waste; they speed up the service because the customer spends less time choosing; and they allow the restaurant to more closely estimate their takings for the night.

Yet still I remain unswayed.

Admittedly, I am what some might call a bit of a picky eater. Actually, perhaps not so much picky as quirky. Discerning, even. For example, I cannot eat chicken someone else has cooked, neither a Michelin-lauded chef nor a trusted family member. This is down to a still-pink-inside chicken situation a friend once put on my plate and from which I have never recovered.

I once told a friend with 100 per cent confidence that I was positive I would survive an apocalypse, to which she snorted her drink out of her nose and told me I wouldn’t make it past the tinned goods running out. I concede she has a point.

All of which means that choice is important to me when dining out. I like, no, I need options.

Time for alternatives to the set menu

My dislike of set menus was recently reignited when I tried to organise a dinner for 10 friends. Have you tried to book dinner for double-digit groups lately? If so, call me, we can start a support group.

When I emailed the restaurant I was keen to try, they immediately sent back the set menu.

"Thank you, but no," I responded politely, "we’d like to order a la carte. We’ll be spending lots of money, I promise."

No, they emailed back in a tone so curt I could almost hear the gritted teeth from home, groups of 10 or more "must order" from the set menu.

The restaurant rules are endless. Dishes come on a sharing basis … and you can only pick two per section … and you need to pay 50 per cent up front … and you’ll be charged for every guest even if one can’t make it … and … and … and …

Of the 10 of us, two are vegetarian, one is vegan, one is on a keto diet and six are varying degrees of carnivore. If you could pick just two dishes to satisfy all those different dietary requirements, you’re better at ordering than I am.

So, it was a hard no.

That’s not to say I don’t understand how difficult the after-effects of the pandemic still are for the hospitality industry. And neither is it ever my intention to make a maitre d’s life difficult – I emailed back politely declining the table.

But how about some alternatives to the set menu? What about pre-ordering, whereby a party chooses its food ahead of time? The kitchen is happy because they know what to cook, the waiting staff are happy because the tedious ordering part has been taken care of, and the restaurant can still take my children as financial collateral if they so wish.

As long as set menus exist, I will continue to dine out for Valentine’s Day on February 13 and celebrate New Year’s Eve on December 30. My table might be missing the rose petals and view of the fireworks, but at least I get to eat what I want.