A 'retrospective' piece on food blogging vis-a-vis off-screen dining
Some people tell me they miss my retrospective posts - also known as those that aren't food reviews or travelogues (I don't travel all the time by the way, even if it look like it, because I post a lot of throwback photos). I avoid writing perspective posts because I always think my opinions come off too caustic for people's liking. Too undiplomatic, non-PR, politically incorrect. So I stuck with the safe and happy food reviews that honestly can't go wrong.
Outside of blogging and studying "academia", my two main pursuits, I read a bit, and recently a statement stuck to me for a while. It reads: Those who love to dine out...
... are pampered and spoilt, likely to be terrible at housework (if they ever do it at all), and actually evaluate the level of service as part of the whole experience.
Do I feel ashamed?
Maybe just a little, but more excited, precisely the same feeling when my horoscope prophesizes my whole life accurate to a tee. I feel propelled enough to write this piece because just a few minutes ago, I went to this ramen place that I've never been before (it shall not be named, but given how many ramen expeditions I've announced, there aren't many left). Superficially, the name drew me in and had high hopes for it because it's supposed to be pretty good.
Unfortunately, the Tonkatsu ramen I had was rather lacklustre, and a little difficult to finish. The soup base was soaking in oil. It was literally so drenched in oil, I could smell it even as I was drawing in my first bite and I could see a thick film of it floating about the soup itself. So I held my breath for the rest of the ramen bowl. Without the oily stench, the ramen was actually pretty good. But anatomically my nose cannot be closed all the time because I need to breathe.
I don't usually reflect feedback to restaurant staff unless...
1. I'm alone.
These situations are a bit of a wild card, if it gets nasty I don't want to implicate my fellow diners. I am usually in an adventurous mood to talk to people a bit when I am alone too.
2. It is something that requires feedback for improvement
Most of the time I doubt my tastebuds a bit and would ask for second opinion to confirm, but then there are times I'm certain.
3. It's a particular dish that I am concerned about.
4. Food tastings
Okay, that's what I'm there for, right? Kind of. I usually write it in an email though.
In today's case, it's a bit of a 1 + 2 + 3, and so I decided to give a feedback after paying, which I said - "I would like to feedback to the kitchen that the ramen soup base was a bit oily -" (I repeated twice, once in English to which the staff didn't understand, so I said it in Mandarin Chinese)
"Tonkotsu is like this," She answers, cutting me off.
For one, I am pampered and spoilt when it comes to dining experiences, and I honestly don't like to 'complain' because it's generally unpleasant. I hate it when they get defensive and don't bother hearing me out. All these happened in my head (and here, now), of course.
"I found it too oily, perhaps you want to reflect to the kitchen staff." I said.
"Tonkotsu is like this, it's naturally oily. But I'll reflect to the kitchen staff," she answers grudgingly.
For the most part, the service at this ramen place is pretty good for the ushering of guests, serving timing, and general procedures. But when it comes to unforeseen circumstances, I guess they still lack training. Oh well. Now I'm just having a mocha break at Department of Caffeine for the first time, which I must say has really good coffee.
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I share interesting episodes in life revolving around food, lifestyle, travel and inspirational ideas. If you would like to stay in touch, follow me on my Instagram on @spherepiece and Facebook page!