The Scottish Mail on Sunday - You
No Tiktok at the table and the house wine is fine!
From tipping like a pro to complaining with confidence, SIMON MILLS explains the new rules of dining out
If you are not aware by now of the new high-water mark in tipping, allow me to bring you up to speed. After a recent trip to the luxury Gleneagles hotel in the Highlands, Sir Rod the Mod (Stewart) tipped staff £10,000. Ten. Thousand. Scottish pounds.
Of course, we don’t know what percentage of the total bill this represents (the guy is worth more than £200 million) but the broader point is that tipping is not going away. In fact, it’s on the rise. Until relatively recently, ten per cent was widely accepted. Now, however, 12.5 per cent is commonly added (or expected), with 15 per cent not unheard of.
Despite this increase in optional extras (and the stiff competition from the Rod Stewarts of this world), Britain is still very much a dining-out nation. We eat out an average of 1.5 times a week, chowing down on the exotic, diverse and adventurous – London’s restaurant scene alone is said to offer 123 different types of cuisine (there are only 140 in the whole world). We eat at silver-service Michelin-starred gaffs, street-food trailers, hipster gastropubs, cafés and chains, Chinese, Italian, French, Indian, Korean, Vietnamese and
Japanese. We meet friends for long and liquid Sunday lunches, book big tables for family get-togethers, snag a private room when there is a significant birthday.
We also speak fluent menu – confident in our pronunciation of quinoa and nduja (‘keen-wa’, ‘en-do-ya’ – which we learned off Nigella, right?). We know all about freekeh, yuzu kosho and pangrattato and refrain from making off-colour jokes when someone enthuses about the hot and acquired taste of shito (it’s a Ghanaian hot black pepper sauce).
However, when it comes to the rules of dining, we remain etiquette neophytes. We’re awkward about glassware and cutlery choices. Addressing staff remains a tonal and semantic minefield. We’ve still absolutely no idea how much to tip (although most of us won’t be making Rod-esque gestures of generosity).
Then there’s the matter of what we should wear. Just over a year ago Tiktok influencer Polska Babinks ignited an online debate when she was refused entry to a Paris eatery for wearing an extremely low-cut top. She called the decision sexist, but many critics and columnists called it fair, observing that myriad activities in life (other than eating out) call for appropriate clothing.
And it doesn’t end there. Where should our mobile phones, coats, wallets and shopping bags go once we sit down? (Since you ask, phones off and pocketed, coats checked in, handbags under the table). Is it OK to bring dogs, babies, kids… Tinder dates? (Answers in order: yes, no, yes if well-behaved ones… and def no). And what do we talk about – our careers? Our children, our fabulous holidays, wonderful homes and consistent marital bliss?
Of course, no discussion of good form in restaurants would be complete without mention of James Corden and the notorious Balthazar incident of October 2022. NYC restaurateur Keith Mcnally dubbed Corden ‘the most abusive customer’ he had encountered in 25 years, detailing reports including Corden (allegedly) yelling at staffers and demanding free cocktails after pointing out a hair the actor/chat-show host had claimed to have found in his (already finished) food.
‘Get us another round of drinks this second,’ Corden apparently said. ‘And also take care of all of
our drinks so far. This way I (won’t) write any nasty reviews on Yelp or anything like that.’
Now, your writer wasn’t one of Corden’s party during this exchange but I’m willing to bet the price of a bottle of house white that the friends around his Balthazar table that night (where the waiting staff are some of the finest and most capable in the world) were rump-clenchingly embarrassed by his starry, demanding, toys-thrown-from-stroller behaviour and had to endure a thoroughly rotten atmosphereladen night out as a result. A hissy-fitting, bad-form tantrum that also got Corden temporarily banned from Balthazar.
So here are some tips to ensure you dine out with confidence.
Complain… but do so discreetly
If there’s a problem, don’t make like Corden and turn it into an attention-seeking performance with your audience of friends. Instead, quietly rise from the table, seek out the maître d’ or ask to speak to the manager. Announcing your displeasure to the room or threatening to comment negatively on Zagat or Tripadvisor is tacky, annoyingly millennial and potentially ruinous for the restaurant. That said, if you’re not happy with your food, speak up sooner rather than later.
If the menu is written using a cipher – eat elsewhere
Give a wide berth to any establishment where the waiter approaches your table with the dreaded words, ‘Shall I explain how things work here?’ (In my head I am saying, ‘No, pal. I’ll explain how things are going to work here – we’ll order what we want, you bring it to us.’) You want dinner, not some gimmicky marketing ‘concept’.
Understand the table setting
Don’t be fazed by multiple rows of cutlery flanking the plate – simply start from the outside
and move inwards. The round spoon is for soup. The small fork for pud. Don’t hold your knife like a pen and put it down altogether when you are eating forkfuls of pasta or salad. Burgers can be hand-held. Tucking a napkin into your shirt or blouse collar is acceptable if the food is extra messy – sticky barbecue ribs, for instance. Otherwise, linen stays in the lap, laundered edges deployed for discreet wipes of the mouth corners on occasion. Elbows on tables are allowed if the arms are elegantly arranged, non-invasive and well dressed.
Navigate the wine list with confidence
If in doubt (or debt) always order the house over the clichéd and mostly unreliable ‘second cheapest on the list’. There’s no shame in this
– it’s actually the stealthy connoisseur’s choice. Sommeliers take great pride in selecting their vin de table, which will be robust, effective and good value. Your flash friend who wants to order a bottle of Brut Goût de Diamants Chapuy champagne must do so on their own dollar.
Don’t be performatively picky with your order
Refrain from asking endless questions about preparation and presentation, enquiring of the ingredients’ provenance. Your lactose intolerances and paleo flirtations are not character traits or quirky conversation starters – they are really just holding things up. If you do have dietary requirements, phone ahead and get them sorted out in advance.
Conversations and props to avoid
Anything that involves you firing up the smartphone to show amusing Tiktok clips, photos of holidays, the dog and newborns, etc should be avoided. This is no time for props and visual aids. In fact, leave your phone in your coat pocket when you check it in at the cloakroom.
The etiquette of splitting the bill
Paying according to food eaten/wine consumed (‘but I only had a salad’) is not allowed. A communal lunch or threecouples dinner is a democratic, equal-opportunities experience where you tacitly agree to share the cost equally. By all means show grandiose taste in dishes and order expensive wine – the
Honetsuki wagyu tomahawk steak when the rest of the table is doing endives and pasta – but insist on paying… for everyone.
Dress intelligently and appropriately
So unless it is Copenhagen’s Noma (where monotone designer Scandi workwear is de rigueur), a Michelin star deserves a frock (or a shirt and tie). Dark denim, an Arket fleece and even a beanie will be OK for a noted Shoreditch pub, but no T-shirts or sneakers for anywhere with linen tablecloths. For men, if in doubt, wear a jacket and proper shirt.
Tipping
In the UK it is customary to leave ten to 15 per cent of the bill as a tip, but many restaurants will have already added this to the total. You can opt out if you feel your service hasn’t been worth any gratuity. You can also leave more, if you like. Should you be the one who made the booking, it’s nice to have a £20 note ready to palm into the maître d’s hand on the way out.