Welcome to Talk to Tom, the dining-advice column that aims to point you toward good meals, steer you from the dross and solve your pressing restaurant queries. Look for a fresh Q&A every Thursday in this space.
Questions and comments can be submitted to TalkToTom@washingtonsun.com. Submissions may be edited for length and clarity.
Few of us are string beans. Why do restaurants set tables so close to one another?
Not that I want to return to pandemic times, but there was a moment then where we enjoyed pools of space between our fellow diners, a detail that’s now mostly the reserve of high-end restaurants with lofty prices. Like hush, room to stretch out is a luxury.
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Restaurants pack people in mostly for financial reasons. More tables per square foot mean more potential revenue. I once had a local restaurateur tell me removing just a single table from his business would result in the loss of “hundreds of thousands of dollars” a year. There’s the buzz factor, too. A tightly packed dining room tends to feel more energetic, no doubt because people are talking louder to compensate for the conversations close to them.
The position carries some risks, and not just from people trying to navigate slivers of space. A 2009 study by Cornell University called “Don’t Sit So Close to Me” found customers were significantly happier when tables were placed at least a meter apart, and diners at cramped tables left faster and reported they were less likely to return — especially on dates and among women, who reported more discomfort than men. A follow-up study two years later tested 6-inch, foot-long, and 24-inch spacing of tables and determined that people reacted particularly poorly to the lack of space in romantic dining contexts.
There’s no industry standard for spacing. But an expert in restaurant design psychology told me 16 inches is a minimum to aim for at banquettes, which usually have the most space around them.
Curious what you think about the trade-off at Rye Bunny between the efficiency of the counter-order setup and the more relaxed rhythm one might want from a dinner out.
For those who haven’t been, the first-come, first-served Rye Bunny is the successor to Tail Up Goat in Adams Morgan, which closed in December. While I’m not a fan of standing in line to access a table, the process has impressed me twice now at the breezy Rye Bunny, where staff members welcome you upon entry and take drink orders while you wait to reach a host counter to tell an attendant what you want for dinner. Then, off you go to select where you want to sit in the dining room.
FYI: I’ve never been in line longer than 10 minutes, which goes by fast with a drink in hand, and I’ve enjoyed some engaging chats with neighbors in line. Per the restaurant’s FAQ, waits are shortest (five to 15 minutes) Sunday through Thursday, with often no wait after 8:30 p.m. The idea is working for the restaurant. Co-owner Jill Tyler tells me some guests, unknown to one another when they stroll in, end up sitting together based on their brief interactions in line.
Want to order another drink or more food once you’re seated? Proceed as you would at another upscale restaurant and ask your server. And make sure to order the anchovy toast and whatever pasta your server raves about, among the draws on Rye Bunny’s script.
I collect wine and like to bring it to restaurants on occasion. What’s a fair corkage fee? Some are so high!
Industry insiders tell me the answer depends on a number of factors, including the restaurant concept and the beverage program. An establishment with a small list might charge a lot less for corkage or waive it altogether as an incentive to customers. Places with larger, more curated lists might charge more — or forbid outside bottles completely.
“Sometimes they might not allow it because it can be difficult to deal with old bottles if you don’t have an Ah-So (a two-pronged wine opener that doesn’t break the cork) and an experienced sommelier,” says Brent Kroll, the owner of Maxwell Park Wine Bar and a veteran wine professional. “That and possibly that older bottles require time from the sommelier for minimal revenue.”
Jenistar Ruksirisopha created the wine lists for both Takara 14 and Raw Omakase in Logan Circle. At the casual Takara 14, where the wine and sake bottles typically cost between $20 and $80, she considered $50 per bottle a fair corkage fee; at the more refined Raw Omakase, where the bottles can range from $60 to $1,200, the restaurateur asked for $75 per bottle.
“The fee is not only opening and serving the bottle but also glassware, service, and the loss of beverage sales,” says Ruksirisopha, who is no longer involved with either restaurant but plans to open, with chef Johnny Yi, an upscale sushi venue sometime next year.
The corkage fee at the popular Reveler’s Hour in Adams Morgan is $50. Owner Bill Jensen says he has mixed feelings about diners bringing in their own wine. “I love the idea of enhancing a meal by sharing a special bottle of wine” from outside, he says, but “we go out of our way to curate a dynamic, expansive selection of wines to suit all sensibilities and budgets, and we want the opportunity to share it with our guests.”
Kroll allows corkage only for large parties where there’s a minimum spend. His rationale: “We have 50 wines by the glass and just under 1,000 by the bottle.” Outside his venue, he says, “I’m happy when I see $25 and think $50 (corkage fee) is OK.” Mark’s Duck House in Falls Church, Virginia, charges $20 a bottle, and the sibling D.C. restaurants Clyde’s and Old Ebbitt Grill charge $25. Some places don’t charge on certain days. For instance, Monday is the best time to bring a bottle from home at Belga Café on the Hill, which otherwise charges $25.
My two cents: The considerate wine consumer should know not to bring in a wine that’s on a restaurant’s list and to buy at least one bottle from the restaurant. Also, some restaurants have a limit on how many bottles you can bring in. It’s always best to call ahead and ask rather than be surprised upon arrival.
With the season about to change, I want to plan a road trip. Where would you go for a dining escape within a few hours of D.C.? (We already know about the Inn at Little Washington.)
In the exurbs of Virginia, I’m high on Three Blacksmiths in Sperryville. The drill is a single seating for up to 20 guests in a handsome dining room, and a seasonal, five-course menu prepared by chefs who double as your attendants by introducing the dishes to you. Orchestrated by owners Jake and Sara Addeo, the evening starts at 6:45 p.m. with a choice of cocktails (including a zero-proof option) made using local ingredients.
Then there’s Maude & the Bear in Staunton, which began life as a Montgomery Ward home kit more than a century ago, helmed by chef Ian Boden. He, too, offers a five-course list — along with nine- and 22-course tasting menus — that the chef says include “several little surprises.” My experience with Boden, who also owns The Shack nearby, is that he focuses on good ingredients left to speak for themselves.
In Maryland, I’m always happy to settle into the inviting, Old World interior at Bas Rouge in historic Easton. The restaurant is the crown jewel of Bluepoint Hospitality, a collection of 10 culinary draws created by energy mogul Paul Prager. The details at Bas Rouge are rich: Zalto stemware, Bernardaud china and an antique Lobmeyr crystal chandelier to illuminate the space. As for the cooking, Harley Peet won the Best Chef: Mid-Atlantic award from the James Beard Foundation two years ago. Peet, recently promoted to corporate executive chef, says his mission is to “continually elevate.” Some of the ingredients his team uses are plucked from the company’s fledgling Yamori Farm, 7 or so acres devoted to Japanese melons, radishes, leeks and more, watched over by Japanese farmers who fly in on a regular basis, says Peet.
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