Now, anyone who's waited table has had moments of thinking something along these lines. And when 2-year-old Molly's father claims to the infallible Daily Mail that the toddler was "a bit grumbly, a bit moany, but her behaviour certainly wasn't terrible" we can't help but want to hear the waiter's side of the story. Even so, writing this, spelling it in this fashion, and failing to erase it before handing it over - probably not a smart move for a restaurant's opening night. Especially a family restaurant with a designated children's section. Cactus Joe's agreed, and the manager responsible got the sack.

To add insult to injury, the family claims the food was bad. But we don't really sympathize on that head. Shockingly, the family refused the restaurant's offer of a free meal.

'Thanks, You Little F*****': Family Horrified After Restaurant Bill Makes Clear What Waiters Thought Of Molly, Two [Daily Mail]

If you know me, you have done the Ordering Challenge. Maybe you didn't know you were competing, but you were. To me and my brother, every meal out is a test and an ordeal. At the beginning, it was all so innocent: a response to our parents' terrible ordering at ourregular Sunday diner breakfasts growing up. Maybe because we've both logged a lot of time on the other side of the ordering pad, my brother and I find their respective fussiness and dithering cringe-inducing. My dad's picky, his order full of exceptions and substitutions and stuff on the side. And my mom is of the type who doesn't even glance at the menu until the server appears - and then talks about her options, in a roguish ingratiating manner, for endless minutes, while Charlie and I apologize mutely in anguished shame.

So, at first, we just wanted to make up for it. We instinctively tried to keep our own orders efficient-to know what we wanted before the waiter arrived, to plan backups in case our first choice was unavailable.
But gradually, our quest for ordering excellence became competitive. Charlie would stare at me intently as I ordered, looking for a mistake, a wasted moment, a slip. I started to study menus with rapt attention. Observing this, my father wondered aloud why we couldn't apply this efficiency and focus to other spheres of our lives.

We decided to implement parameters. The goal of the game was to order in one go, and so comprehensively that the server would not be forced to ask for even a single clarification. As such, every variable had to be examined, every corner of the menu explored, lest something-a complimentary glass of juice on a pre-set breakfast menu, for instance-go unnoticed.

One receives a point for every variable in the order-complexity is rewarded-and a deduction for every clarification the server requests.

For example: "I'd like two eggs over medium, please; bacon, crisp; home fries; rye toast, buttered; a small grapefruit juice; and a coffee. Thank you."

The above order, while deceptively simple, is rife with pitfalls:

1. Number of eggs and their manner of preparation

2. Bacon (and, optionally, the degree of crispness of said bacon)

3. Type of potato-do not assume! Sometimes there is a choice of French fries or even the option of home fries versus hash browns, especially on the West Coast

4. Variety of toast, and choice of butter (sometimes they ask)

5. Type of juice

6. Size of juice (a common beginner's omission)

7. Hot drink-sometimes there is a choice of coffee or tea!

Breakfast is a very good opportunity for the game, given the number of factors involved. Once breakfast is mastered, one may move on to other meals, and even other cuisines. With lunch and dinner, there is more likelihood of a restaurant having run out of dishes, plus the wild card of an appealing special, only revealed at the last minute. For these meals, one needs a cool head and flexibility. Backup choices are mandatory in every category; a true pro will have third choices, too.

Ethnic restaurants present the problem of pronunciation; ordering by a dish's menu "number," while allowed, is regarded as cowardly.

As in any sport, there are factors one can't control: a waiter who's hard of hearing or whose English isn't good? Bad luck. A confusing menu that doesn't list all its sides? Too bad. Them's the breaks. Learn from them and become stronger.

To succeed at the Ordering Game, you have to get in the zone, to a place so calm and assured that your opponent's unblinking scrutiny goes unnoticed. While practice and strategy help, it's a simple fact that some people have a natural talent for the game, while others are destined to founder. My brother and I are particularly well matched; while I have a better eye for a menu's details, I can't match him for cool, or the intimidation of his stare. Indeed, sometimes I start to giggle hysterically, in which case I forfeit a whole round. And make the waiter uncomfortable.

When eating out with friends, Charlie and I developed the disconcerting habit of silently scoring our oblivious dining companions as they ordered. They, in turn, noticed our unusual absorption in diner menus, then strange, rapid-fire ordering. When we let people in on the game, they became nervous and exhilarated. Every meal was suddenly fraught with danger.

Sometimes, it must be admitted, the efficiency of our ordering took our servers aback. Accustomed to the more relaxed pace of amateurs, they'd balk when faced with such perfectionism. But I've received a barely perceptible nod of approval from the famously cranky staff of a local deli, and even a "Great ordering!" from the crusty old-timer at a venerable Brooklyn steakhouse. After a year or so of the Challenge, I realized I was literally unable to order normally. I was appalled one day to realize I was scoring a potential employer at a business lunch. On dates, I'd look up, irritated, if spoken to while studying the menu, stare fixedly at my date while he ordered, and then list my own choices with machine-gun rapidity. Needless to say, if he scored low, a second date was out.

Says Bruni of his dining companions, "Each guest seemed to think that what he or she wound up ordering was a matter of identity, a reflection of self." In my case, ordering's the only case where I bring such efficiency and high standards to my life, a chance to get things right. The funny part is, when I was a waitress myself, I didn't care less how people ordered, as long as they were reasonably courteous. But, even as I've managed to tone down the obsessive qualities of the Challenge, I still secretly try to do it - for myself. And of course, my brother.

What They Brought To The Table [NY Times]

Says Forbes,

If executive women face challenges in the corporate world, these female culinary go-getters take even more heat. Restaurant kitchens, where every chef must train, are still male-dominated boot camps that often tolerate (or encourage) harassment and ridicule. Raising capital is tough in a world where financial networking is still very much a man's game. And dilemmas about family-work balance are especially frustrating, since a chef's schedule can be grueling and unpredictable.

Which goes some way towards explaining the low numbers of women in the restaurant field (besides pastry, with its more accomodating schedule), and the determination necessary for a female restauranteur to buck the trend - especially in this economy. Vets like Tracy Des Jardins, owner of a mini-empire in San Francisco, are rare, but for the past few years chef-owners like Gabrielle Hamilton, Michelle Bernstein and Anita Low have helped to define the recent trend in restaurants - small, local, perfectly achieved - which seems best poised to weather the recession. And new ventures by April Bloomfield and Sara Jenkins are among the most successful in a rough year for New York restaurants. Suggests Mary Sue Milliken, "But maybe from managing households and so forth, women manage better and know how to stretch resources."
How Women Are Heating Up The Restaurant World [Forbes]

So says Time Out New York, adding that, "while it’s no longer a rarity to see women in the professional kitchen, it is surprisingly uncommon to find them in top positions. That translates to a lack of recognition." Big-name chefs are still male; only ten percent of executive chefs in America are women. And while female pastry chefs are fairly common, they're not generally regarded with the prestige that are their steak-searing brethren.

Says one female chef, “The public loves the new hot chef. But it’s never a woman, it’s always a man.” This is, in part, due to the fact that many female chefs have opted for low-key restaurants rather than stages for their egos. As another tells Time Out, “We’re more in mom-and-pop places, and that’s why we’re not getting as much media...There’s a tendency for women to not make it about us.”

Of course, it should be said that at this point, Giada deLaurentiis or Ina Garten is at least as recognizable as a Tom Colicchio or a Mario Batali. The difference, of course, is that these women aren't exactly "chefs" to the public so much as friends, moms, home cooks -— we defer to them not so much as masters of technical expertise but as people whose taste we trust. And they're not doing anything to sway the press coverage at a Gourmet event or adjust the numbers in the higher echelons of haute cuisine. But then, as we've said before, "haute cuisine" by its definition is masculine: aren't there worse things than slowly but surely eroding these definitions? The answer shouldn't necessarily be for women chefs to adopt the swagger of their male counterparts, but for another form of "chef" to become recognized as just as viable and just as — if not more — pleasing to people who eat. Classical cuisine means training under abusive masters, adhering to a rigid hierarchy, and occasionally committing suicide when you lose a Michelin star. I get wanting the option, but surely we can do better.

Bitchin' Confidential [Time Out New York]

While traditional gestures like serving ladies first, giving the guy the check and letting women have the banquette seat (courtly or paternalistic?) are far less prevalent than they were — to the confusion of servers everywhere — certain distinctions apparently still apply. Well, obviously: I mean, in an industry where success can hinge on the width of a napkin ring, no one's gonna blow off the divides in a customer base's priorities, expectations and tastes.“Women are looking for somewhere comfortable,” says Mario Batali. “Men are looking for somewhere to show off.”

Now that the old rules don't apply so much anymore — no smart restauranteur is going to assume a woman can't handle a wine list — and some of the gender gap has been closed by fads like the gender-neutral low-carb trend or equal-op annoying foodie-ism, the more fundamental divides between the eatin' sexes are apparently becoming manifest. Since we all love being told about ourselves by groups of strangers, here's the breakdown!

We sit in banquettes: Even though it's no longer the protocol — like any guys still know that rule, anyway — apparently women gravitate towards the seats that give the best view of the room/potential assassins.
We Need Warm Rooms: We apparently "tend to dress with more skin showing" so the thermostat's got to be up.
We Like Healthy Food: "Women more often ask if a menu has leaner, healthier options. Men more often ask if they can get a decent steak."
We Don't Like Crappy Places: "A woman is more likely to take offense if the restrooms are cramped, ugly and messy. "
We Do Like Awesome Places: "She’s also more likely to appreciate color and playfulness in a restaurant’s design, while there’s more risk that a man will be cool to that." Apparently this one mint-green restaurant with a seafood-heavy menu was attracting such a disproportionately female crowd that the owner redid it to make it more gender neutral. “There’s more meat now — a Niman Ranch pork chop, veal breast, a lamb T-bone,” and it's been repainted cream.
We Like Meat But We Like To Be Tricked Into It: "Stephen Starr, who owns Buddakan and Morimoto, said that women more often hesitate if the name or look of a dish is too blunt a reminder that they’re biting into an animal. 'If it’s something that says chorizo with some sort of egg, they’ll eat it,” Mr. Starr said. “If it’s a suckling pig, they’re not going near it.'" (Not true. Suckling pig delicious.)
We Don't Actually Tip Less, But Parties Of Women Still Suck for Waiters: Although the pernicious fiction that women are bad tippers is apparently a myth, we do tend to order less and hold tables hostage four hours so a server can't turn it over.
We're Less Insecure: "A man is more likely to care about being greeted rapturously and treated like an insider," whereas we apparently just want to eat fish and "eggs" in stifling hot mint green rooms, for hours, while seated in a banquette.

Old Gender Roles With Your Dinner? [New York Times]