A few days ago, while picking up a bottle of Gummy vitamins at an especially grand Whole Foods Market in Dallas, I was distracted by the scent of smoked meat. The barbecue counter, a mirage of blue smoke and beef fumes, was a self-serve, weigh-and-pay station. With plastic tongs, I chose the smallest beef rib I could find; it clocked in at half a kilo and looked like it was carved from a brontosaurus. It was delicious, but it was also an hour before dinner – and I had plans.
I have lots of flaws; impatience is one of them. My idea of leisure is the late, lamented Concorde. I don’t like ice cream that has melted or lattes that have cooled and I can’t suck on an ice lolly or even a lozenge without biting.
Because I live in a small American town, where few restaurants serve food after 8.45pm, one way I live it up in big cities – or anywhere with a population that exceeds 60,000 people – is to eat at 9pm, just because I can.
I don’t enjoy waits such as those at a UAE opening of The Cheesecake Factory, but I’m not opposed to the occasional long queue, as long as I think it’s worth it. Besides, it allows me to grab a rib a little earlier and burn it off in time for appetisers. Just think of a friend who’s a wonderful host but not a timely one – you’re invited to dinner at 7, but you know nobody will be eating until 11.
Although I was recently in Austin, Texas, I didn’t make it to Franklin Barbecue, venerated as the end of the road for beef brisket and the beginning of a new love story. “In layman’s terms, time flies when you’re having fun,” writes Naomi Bishop of her visit to Franklin, in her piece Four Hours for Barbecue: the Psychology of Waiting in Line for Food, published on the food website Serious Eats.
“Throughout the wait, Franklin employees were walking up and down the line, selling sodas and making sure that people were doing well and having a good time. They joked with line-waiters and handed out samples of sausages,” she writes.
You’re more likely to see me queueing up for barbecue than for a cronut even though chef Dominique Ansel, of the latter’s fame, is known for the free madeleines he distributes to the warriors braving the elements for their cravings. Thankfully, both Aaron Franklin and Dominique Ansel understand the basics of supply and demand well enough to spare their customers the dejection of leaving empty-handed after a long wait – once the number of people queued up matches the availability of the eatable in demand, the queue is closed.
Have you ever walked into a restaurant, been seated, waited forever for service and walked out? People have their own ideas about the appropriate timing of a meal, including its rhythm. An offence I find objectionable is the trend of thrusting a dessert menu in diners’ hands two seconds after the main courses are cleared. I may be impatient, but I was also taught that speed doesn’t always get you where you’re going any faster.
