The Chef is an *sshole

You might as well read about it here first. I caused a table of eight boors to leave the restaurant tonight. I didn't actually tell them to leave, but they were smart enough to understand my intent. No doubt, the encounter will be plastered around a bunch of Internet review sites by morning and the world will know that I am an *sshole.

You've seen people like this: fairly young, know-it-alls, with huge chips on their shoulders. Really, after being seated in a nice restaurant, who asks oh-so-snidely, "Does anyone here know anything about wine?"

The party ordered a bottle of Burgundian style Pinot Noir, accepted it, had it poured around the table, and then called the server back over to send it back because it was "musty." Actually, I smelled and tasted the rejected wine and it was gorgeous.

They decided to replace it with a Marlborough Sauvignon Blanc, which the taster rejected as "vinegar." Again, I tasted the wine and it was totally tropical dead-on NZ SB. If it wasn't clear before this point, it was certainly obvious that we were dealing with poseurs.

At this point, I had lost just about all my profit on this table, but in the spirit of hospitality, we were still gracious and got them wine and took their order. The appetizer order came and went and then we cooked the entrée order. Immediately, three of the fish plates came back as being overcooked.

I looked at the plates and they were perfect. The fish was still just a little translucent in the center of each. I tasted each to be sure and they were beautiful.

I went to the dining room to see what we could do to appease the table and all I could hear was this party talking so loudly about what terrible wine and food we had. You've heard them before: the ones that talk so that everyone must hear them, the ones that want everyone to know how important they are.

I could see the eyes rolling on the table just behind them and that's when I knew I had to do something. These boors were intruding on the evenings of our other guests.

After they left, I went to the other table to apologize to them for the intrusion of this other party on their evening, but before I could say anything, the woman at the table asked, "What was their problem?"

I learned a long time ago, the hard way, that in the long run, you lose a lot less by making offensive tables leave, than by letting them stay and offending other guests. Sad, but true. I guess that makes me an *sshole.