The world of dining and drinking is an obstacle course wrapped in a labyrinth wrapped in a logic puzzle — it’s full of pitfalls, gray areas, and bewildering questions that really shouldn’t even be questions (How do I find the bathroom?) and yet, somehow, are. Fortunately, your friends at Eater are here to help: Life Coach is a series of simple guides to the arcane rituals of modern dining.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned from working at Eater, it’s that menus lie. They will say they are separated into appetizers and entrees, or sometimes say a certain dish is meant “for two.” They try to lock you into ordering for yourself. This is not how Eater staffers eat. At any given team dinner, any time we are checking out a new place with a professional eye, or indeed any time one of us is out with friends, we want to try as much as we can of what the restaurant has to offer. If you want to order like an Eater staffer, remember: Everything is a shared plate if you believe in yourself.
This is easy to accomplish at many restaurants whose cuisines have always favored family-style serving, or at some trendy restaurants which have given up labeling dishes as appetizers or main courses. In fact, many servers will conspiratorially tell you the menu is made of “small plates meant for sharing,” as if you needed permission from the chef to order six things and ask for side plates. The gall. But this is how Eater staff tends to operate even at restaurants that organize a menu more traditionally. You just order enough food for everyone, regardless of what section it comes from.
There are some rules to ordering this way. You should call out what looks good to you early. Priority is given to any dietary restrictions, whether that means ordering an entirely vegetarian or kosher meal, or just giving that person extra servings of the things they can eat. Splitting the food means splitting the bill evenly. And if it’s a tasting menu or a prix fixe with limited offerings, Eater etiquette dictates that you swap plates or offer bites of anything your dining companion may not have.
The benefits of this seem self-evident, but in case you’re not convinced, ordering like this means you get to try more of the menu than you probably would have otherwise. You can have two bites of salad if you want some fresh produce but don’t want greens as a meal. You can try a new-to-you ingredient that you weren’t sure if you were going to like without dropping $20 on an entree’s worth of it. Were you deciding between the noodles or the fish? You don’t have that problem anymore.
Professionally, this allows us to get a more expansive view of what a restaurant is doing, whether a buzzy dish turns out to be the only worthwhile thing on the menu, or if it’s consistently good. Because having a little bit of everything gives you a wider view, so you can think a little more critically about the flavors used across the menu, how they go together, where there are strengths and weaknesses and surprises. Is this food meant to comfort? To challenge? To represent a certain tradition? To be something new? And remember, you’re doing this all while eating. This is not some dry academic debate — it’s the most fun way to engage with the world.
Of course, there will be some people who just want to eat what they want to eat, who have no interest in sharing or trying a variety of things, or some situations where this is just not possible. That’s fine. But remember, our society is set up to belittle and demean those who wish to share. Individualism is held as the highest value, the assumption being that you have to hoard for yourself to get the most. It’s selfish, but it’s also wrong. Only by giving up the idea of ownership can one truly experience bounty. Yes, I’m still talking about restaurants.
