Stealth Diner

Chris Holt is the main Features Editor for ARN and holds a Masters Degree in English from Stanford University. He is also a self proclaimed “foodie” and fast rising expert in Asian Cuisine. Email: chris.holt@gmail.com


One’s Feet over the Coals

One of the reasons this column is called “Stealth Diner” is because the restaurants never know I’m reviewing them. The other reason is I think the name sounds cool. But this month, dear readers, I think my cover might have been blown.

My date and I went to one of the top Korean style BBQ restaurants in San Francisco, a place known for its open grills where diners can cook their own meat. Unfortunately, my friend asked a bit loudly what it was like being a restaurant reviewer, and I had to shush her quickly for fear of being discovered. Remind me not to take her on my next secret government mission, or you’d be looking at one dead spy.

That said, aside from some complimentary spicy tofu soup (jigae perhaps) I couldn’t think of anything service-related the restaurant did to make my stay more pleasant. That’s not exactly a compliment.

Many Korean BBQ restaurants allow the patrons to play chef by cooking allowing them to cook their own meat, but many others have waiting staff cook the meat for the customers— albeit in front of them. Some waitresses assist if they have problems, or check up on the customers for fear they’ll give themselves food poisoning by eating raw meat (I imagine).

But at this unnamed restaurant, the waitress would sporadically appear and cook for us without a word of explanation. The social “rules” of the restaurant were never discussed, and with specialty restaurants (like Hibachi grills, Korean-style BBQs, or sushi bars) it’s important to explain to the customer how they will be served.

This waitress seemed to view our presence, and our attempts at cooking, as an encumbrance to her job. She should have asked if we needed help, offered advice, or at the very least announced her presence. Instead, she appeared quietly and without any expression, causing us to awkwardly stop our conversation in case she wanted to instruct us on anything. Even saying “the meat is best enjoyed before it turns blacker than the charcoal briquettes” would have at least acknowledged our existence.

In the restaurant’s defense, the bulgolgi and kalbi were great. They were both soaked in tantalizing sauces that must have been marinating for days. The kalbi was a bit too fatty, but short ribs often are. The spread of sauces and Korean condiments was extravagant, and was more than filling. However, the price tag ($20 per item) and the requirement that you order two dishes in order to be allowed to use the grill, meant that this meal would be very expensive. We also ordered the bi bim bap to fill out the meal with some produce and starch, and this easily ran the bill north of sixty dollars. Many restaurants in cities thrive off of couples dining out; a price tag like that will deter many potential customers.

I do appreciate that the restaurant’s upkeep must be substantial. The staff member who brings the charcoals, the maintenance of the grills, the soaking of the meats- all of these must cost the restaurant a great deal of money. The operation is stream lined around the sale of barbeque, but the cost both monetarily and aesthetically will lose the establishment casual diners. The bare white walls lacked decoration, the tables and chairs were generic, and the overall bland aesthetic does not make for a welcoming atmosphere. The waitresses’ coldness also will not attract customers.

Instead, this is a restaurant that thrives on reputation, word-of-mouth, and the community around it. This restaurant will always exist for people who seek it, and this “niche” market will always keep them in business, but never make them prosper. Even if you have the best food in town, your competition will always beat you if they have lower prices and a friendlier staff.