How Does Your Restaurant Get Reviewed On This Blog?

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I’m often asked that question. I always respond – well, nobody has ever asked me that question. But if they did, I’d probably tell them all of the things below the next paragraph.

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First, be open. I’ve gone places to do a review and they’re closed. Don’t you watch Gordon Ramsay, anything on CNBC, or one of dozens of shows that talk about restaurant business? You have to be open to have me come in and eat.

Now that the basic door deal is over, I have a simple guideline for doing any review on this blog: nothing less than 4 out of 5 stars. Books, music, movies, restaurants, or products I purchase. I never want some idiot quacking about how horrible my blog or books are (they are coming, I promise) when it’s a matter of taste. I don’t like certain things, and so unless it really strikes me as well done, I don’t go after it on the blog. That means I read, eat, visit, watch, buy a lot of things that never make it to this page, but are under consideration for some period. It’s simply a variation on the whole “if you can’t say something nice…” concept.

Have clean bathrooms with toilet lids that are permanently affixed. I check that stuff. Not in the ladies room – screaming bothers me. But if you have a dirty bathroom, or a broken john, it’s likely to be your death rattle. Same thing if I see staff coming out with dry hands and a dry sink. Yuck.

Pretend my business matters. I’m amazed at the number of servers and counter people who don’t seem to see my 350 pound bulk standing right there, or seated at a table. I, as a customer, should not have to wait while you finish your texting. I put the phone down when you come to my table, or apologize profusely for having to take a business call. I generally go outside if my phone rings, so it’s rare. Seems that’s not the case for servers.

Lights. There should be enough light to see the menu. Amazing when there isn’t.

Menus. Flyspecked is not a good motif. Clean them, replace them, update them.

“We’re out.” Unless it’s the special of the day, I never want to hear that phrase. Especially for something like rice in a Mexican restaurant.

When I ask how something is made, tell me the truth. “Yes, we bring it in from a bakery.” See, that wasn’t so hard. Lie to me and get caught, you’ll never see me again.

Use spices. Even in vanilla ice cream, there must be flavor. When you do the classic Minnesota “we dare not offend anyone with flavors” thing, I figure you don’t know how to cook. Invest in cooking with spices. Lars may not like it, but he’s not likely to be in your seafood restaurant anyway. The fish fry at the Lutheran church is more his speed.

Don’t let my soda/water run dry, double for coffee. If I’m thirsty, I’m suddenly looking for my check.

Don’t miss the opportunity to tell me about the special. Or your deserts. Or your favorite. Up-sell me. Make me aware of all the neat things you have on offer. If I have to ask, don’t look like I questioned your parental validity. You are being given a second chance. If you vanish for ten minutes to find out if they really do have caramelized persimmons, I will hand you the visa card when you get back. That’s a yes/no deal. Your only forgiveness for the delay will be the following phrase: “We were out, but Chef is making some just for you right now, and I’ve put on a fresh pot of coffee. I’m sorry for the delay.” You don’t have to comp me the desert, but explain the delay. When you wander back and say, “Nah. We’re out.” ten minutes later, you are indeed out.

Please, please don’t make me wait for my check. At least one pretty good review died on the host stand when my check took fifteen minutes during a very slow night at the venue.

Smile. I know that’s a lot some days. I’m not being sarcastic. Some days you just don’t feel it. But at least give me a hint of a smile when you greet me. I’m not looking for seduction, merely a facial expression other than the one seen in dialysis clinics.

There you go. Obviously the food has to be pretty good, but more than anything your major hurdles are listed above. Not that tough in my opinion, but I’m a bit of a loon.

More reviews coming soon. Today’s didn’t work out after a promising start. Like school, you might ace the midterm, but if you blow the homework and the final, you’re not getting an “A” from teacher.

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I have a favor to ask of my readers: would you kindly share this blog with your friends, family, and colleagues? We hit a million views in 2014, and while the readership continues a nice growth trend, it could be a lot better. Just hit the Facebook like button, share it on your timeline, tweet the blog with a link, and tell that person at the next desk that there’s this lunatic who writes about all sorts of stuff that they might like.

I appreciate your help. When we hit 2,000,000 readers I will give away something cool to a drawing from the subscribers (that’s the box on the right toward the top) who have helped promote this mess. No used sheets, probably not honey, more likely gift cards. Be a part of it. I’ll update from time to time where we’re at in the count. Thanks.

I May Have To Call In Sick Today: Longmire Returns

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Before I do this thing, I have to chuckle for a moment. I post some controversial stuff from time to time on this blog. I’m not shy about offending people. I did, however, find it interesting that my Facebook followers dropped after I post a nice tribute to Martin Milner. Who, in the name of God, would be offended by that post? I’m guessing that today’s post will drive off their friends as well. So be it.

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My boss may wonder why I’m calling in sick today after having an entire week off from work. Simple: Season four of Longmire is available on Netflix, and I plan to binge watch them. Yes, pretzels, chicken, soda, and ice cream are all laid in and ready to go. Here’s the trailer:

For those of you unfamiliar with the show, it’s some of the best writing on television. Craig Johnson is the author of the series of books that inspired the television show. A&E Network foolishly let it go a year ago for the best reason of all: it didn’t appeal to the target demographic.

For those outside the television world, that means that old farts like me watched the show instead of young farts who will buy stuff and keep on buying it for the rest of their lives. It is a proven concept in advertising that if you get them young enough you keep the for a lifetime. I know I regularly haul home huge quantities of Tang and Space Food Sticks. I also buy… well, fact of the matter is that the theory only applies to some people. I have changed my tastes quite a bit since I was in the prime 18-35 demographic.

I have more money now. I buy better stuff now. I subscribe to Netflix now. I guess that may result in some loss of revenue for the folks at A&E but they’ll no doubt soon roll out a very revealing show on Mexican wrestling groups in Nova Scotia. I understand it’s quite the reality series. No doubt much better than Longmire.

Sorry for the Rick Roll. I can’t help myself. You see, I have to get to bed so I can be ready for Longmire when it comes out at Midnight. I think that’s when… I’ll find out.

In the meantime, why don’t you saunter over to the Red Pony and have a beer. Tell Henry Standing Bear to put it on my tab.

Later.

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I have a favor to ask of my readers: would you kindly share this blog with your friends, family, and colleagues? We hit a million views in 2014, and while the readership continues a nice growth trend, it could be a lot better. Just hit the Facebook like button, share it on your timeline, tweet the blog with a link, and tell that person at the next desk that there’s this lunatic who writes about all sorts of stuff that they might like.

I appreciate your help. When we hit 2,000,000 readers I will give away something cool to a drawing from the subscribers (that’s the box on the right toward the top) who have helped promote this mess. No used sheets, probably not honey, more likely gift cards. Be a part of it. I’ll update from time to time where we’re at in the count. Thanks.

Martin Milner R.I.P. You Changed My Life. One Adam-12, End Of Watch. Godspeed, Martin.

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It’s not often that I have a moment like this. Tears in my eyes and a flood of memories about a fictional television character tearing at my insides. But today is a day for mourning and sadness. Martin Milner passed away this weekend.

Martin Milner a.k.a. Pete Malloy

Martin Milner a.k.a. Pete Malloy

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As a little boy growing up in the sixties, I didn’t miss an episode of Adam-12 (WARNING: Auto-play sound). Not one. Every week it was part of my life. I loved the stories. I loved the action. I loved the characters. They were people I admired. I grew up in a neighborhood full of cops, and those guys on the television were my heroes and friends. I wanted to be like them one day. I got to live that dream.

The dream was better than reality, but Martin Milner (as Pete Malloy) was the role model for me. Handsome, fair, kind, … well, he had it all. I never lived up to the role model, but I think that each of us could do a little bit better in our lives if we emulated officer Pete Malloy.

Two years ago I went on a quest to watch every Adam-12 and Dragnet. Over the course of the months I discovered that my memories were spot-on about the comportment of these men in the series. I didn’t watch them because they were a part of forming me as a youth, but as a writer I suspected that the 30 minute frame would provide some insight to moving a story along.

I got more than I bargained for in both shows. But the take-away was similar, perhaps a bit stronger with Adam-12 as it played out on the streets versus in the detective squad room. Here’s what I learned:

For it’s time, Adam-12 was far more ethnically diverse than other shows on television. It also featured many characters with physical limitations and mental health problems. In every case the characters were dealt with with respect. Malloy (for Martin Milner will always be Malloy to me) went out of his way to teach the rookie that people were individuals and he refused to group them.

Policing was a servant task. More than once the role of the officers was not as enforcer of the law but doer of good deeds. In particular, making sure that their informants were keeping healthy and staying out of trouble. Going the extra couple of yards that might turn a life around. And providing gifts for little kids on Christmas.

Children were treasured. Malloy was a tender man without children of his own. But the hurt and anguish were palpable when a child was hurt. He was their guardian and he knew it.

Brotherhood. All of the officers were there for each other. Skin color, age, and gender were not factors. You were blue. It didn’t mean that they covered up for bad cops, or concealed their own mistakes. Part of it was taking your lumps so as not to tarnish the brotherhood.

God has a role. It is probably because of my faith, but God clearly had a role in the lives of the people in this series. Malloy never got on his knees and spun a rosary, but there was something there that told me he was a man of faith.

The right thing is the right thing, even when it costs extra. This is the hardest lesson from the series for the simple reason that it takes a chunk out of you when it happens. Cutting corners, cheating, lying, all of it is for naught. At the end of the day you have to live your life one way, and one way only. If not, you’re not in the next episode.

Loyalty. Not in the scripts, but in the casting. Jack Webb was loyal to his ensemble. A character was a witness this week, a criminal next week, and three months later a victim. He kept his friends and older actors/actresses working. Lots of roles in his shows for people who wouldn’t get the time of day in modern television. I admire that in Mr. Webb.

I’m sure that some will say that I live in a dream world still. Perhaps. But Mr. Milner shaped that world, and the man I became. I’m not Pete Malloy, but I would be proud to think that people see some of those traits in me. I can honestly say that his performance helped make me the man I am today.

Thank you, Martin Milner. You will be missed.

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I have a favor to ask of my readers: would you kindly share this blog with your friends, family, and colleagues? We hit a million views in 2014, and while the readership continues a nice growth trend, it could be a lot better. Just hit the Facebook like button, share it on your timeline, tweet the blog with a link, and tell that person at the next desk that there’s this lunatic who writes about all sorts of stuff that they might like.

I appreciate your help. When we hit 2,000,000 readers I will give away something cool to a drawing from the subscribers (that’s the box on the right toward the top) who have helped promote this mess. No used sheets, probably not honey, more likely gift cards. Be a part of it. I’ll update from time to time where we’re at in the count. Thanks.

Little Joey The Human Pin Cushion.

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Let’s get started with a quiz! For the big prize, tell me the difference between the two items presented below:

pincushionbackpincushionagain

Please follow me on Twitter, and “Like” the Facebook author page. Don’t forget to subscribe (the box is on the right side of the page) to be eligible for free e-books and other benefits!

Very good, class. Yes, that’s me on the left. A human pin cushion. The tell-tale is the grid pattern on my back. That indicates that I served as a playground for an allergist who was trying to determine what caused me to try dying in my front yard last year.

That may be a bit of an exaggeration, but not much. The fact is, had I not wasted a huge amount of time studying first aid in another lifetime, I would have gone into anaphylactic shock and been in real trouble. As it was, I knew there was a risk that I was allergic to the “bee sting” I got and looked for trouble. First sign of breathing issues and we were off to the urgent care. A lovely shot of epinephrine (EpiPens save lives) and a fist full of Benadryl put me right as rain.

Now, the sting didn’t just cause some breathing issues. My leg swelled up, my belly got hard (heck of a way to get a six-pack) and I couldn’t wear a boot for months. Yup, swelling stuck around for a long time. This was my clue that trouble was afoot. Consequently I carried the injector with me all the time for the next year. Except on days when it snows. Which in Minnesota means I left it at home for half that year.

A friend told me that he had the same issue, but he’d been desensitized to the venom. I dawdled through the summer and finally went to the allergist on the first anniversary of almost croaking due to a bug.

Thus the back. They start out by drawing a very nice grid and marking the blocks to see where the results are strongest. I was injected with bee, hornet, wasp, white face, and yellow jacket venom. They start with small doses and get larger. I am allergic to yellow jackets. Joy.

So, for the next 5 years I will be getting shots. It starts out as a weekly dose for about 6 months (all figures are wild guesses) and then every month or so for a while. Eventually it trails off to every eight weeks. Oh, and I can have a reaction every single time! (But that risk is minimal, don’t worry Mom.)

The end result is that I will have the same risk of a reaction as the average person. Right now I run a better than 60% risk of a severe reaction when I get stung. I’m not good with that risk since I travel to places where the hospitals are not all that magnificent.

Am I looking forward to the shots? Yes. It means I don’t pitch over when a bug gets angry. But every week? Um… yes. I’m just thankful that modern medicine can do this for me.

In the meantime, I have a couple of cans of 21 foot death for any of those killers who next in my yard. No chances being taken until I have a leg up on this deal.

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I have a favor to ask of my readers: would you kindly share this blog with your friends, family, and colleagues? We hit a million views in 2014, and while the readership continues a nice growth trend, it could be a lot better. Just hit the Facebook like button, share it on your timeline, tweet the blog with a link, and tell that person at the next desk that there’s this lunatic who writes about all sorts of stuff that they might like.

I appreciate your help. When we hit 2,000,000 readers I will give away something cool to a drawing from the subscribers (that’s the box on the right toward the top) who have helped promote this mess. No used sheets, probably not honey, more likely gift cards. Be a part of it. I’ll update from time to time where we’re at in the count. Thanks.

Oh. You Were Expecting Content?

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Sorry about that, Chief.

I promise to do better this coming week. Fact is, I’ve been sick. For the last month. Not just the sniffles, but the kind of sick that required general anesthetic, surgery, and more oxycodone that I care to admit.

That last part is what makes it a long time with minimal content. I did write some posts. Oh, boy, did I write posts. But when it’s fueled by drugs it’s not just incoherent to the reader, but the author as well upon review. I may publish one of them just so you can laugh. But not now.

I’m much better. I’m almost clear headed. That may be an erroneous opinion due to my inflated ego, but at least most of the drugs are out of my system.

I plan on posting either Friday or Monday.

But I did want to thank you all for dropping by to see what I’ve scribbled. I have been remiss in my job as host, and I know it. So perhaps we will serve up some flash fiction based on the doctor’s appointment scheduled for Thursday. Hopefully that one is pain-killer free. I’m not betting on it at this point.

Be blessed. And come back in the weeks to come for some exciting book news. Yeah, it’s almost that time.

Joe