Being Serviced by a Man on the Run

Scott Shay Larson, who works as a “runner” at 72 Market Street in Venice, writes to ask if I might say a few words in this space about what a runner is and why he or she is so important.

Typically, in runner-waiter situations, a waiter takes orders, serves wine, checks on tables in the course of a meal to make sure everything is satisfactory and (at least sometimes) presents the check. The runner actually orchestrates the meal--the good ones do, anyway--”running” food from the kitchen to the table, often with assistance, and just in general acting as a liaison between kitchen staff and floor staff.

“A runner acts as a mediator,” Larson writes, “employing a variety of diplomatic skills that enable him to diffuse a typically tense environment. It is a pressure-filled occupation that requires the tactical precision of an air controller.” Not all restaurants work on the runner system but, Larson adds, “in restaurants without benefit of a runner, a medium-rare salmon can easily overcook under the glare of a heating lamp while the waiter takes a drink order in an obscure corner of the dining room. With a runner, however, the proper temperature of a meal is preserved by his prompt attention. There are, of course, more intricate elements to this position, such as the sacrifice of one table in order to ensure the proper timing of five other tables.” (Why do I always seem to be seated at the table that gets sacrificed at so many restaurants?)

He has declined the “reputed promotion” to waiter, Larson concludes, and is proud to remain exclusively a runner. He can run my food anytime he wants.

THE HUNGRY AMERICANS: Having a late lunch at a good restaurant in Milan not long ago, I found myself sitting near four young American men who--it was easy to discern from their ebullient conversation--worked for a particularly successful, high-profile, Chicago-based restaurant company.

The four had obviously visited several other eating places, separately, before gathering at this one to compare notes. “So-and-So had a good concept,” one of them would say. “The sauces at Such-and-Such were pretty good,” another would announce. “I think we can try something like What’s-His-Name does,” a third would add. All seemed to be taking notes; one of their number got up to roam around the dining room, taking Polaroids.

The next day, I drove out of Milan to a delightful small-town inn for lunch. The four, by coincidence, were there again, snapping photos, taking notes, discussing “concepts” and the like. Now, I know that these people were only doing their job, and their research will undoubtedly result in new and better Italian food being served in the U.S.--but, somehow, something about them bothered me.

In the old days, Americans used to come home from Europe carting art and artifacts of every kind, sometimes actually stolen, or chipped from famous works--a kind of not-very-pretty cultural imperialism that has, thankfully, gone mostly out of style these days. But I couldn’t help thinking that these four Americans were doing something of the same sort of thing: chipping, stealing, packing up local artifacts to take home. There was something mercenary about their attitude. And something insultingly impatient.

Like the tourists who run through the Louvre to see the three most famous paintings, they seemed to be saying: “We don’t have all day; just show us the best stuff and let us get out of here.” Worst of all, I’m not even really sure, in their haste and desire to assimilate, that they enjoyed their food.

SHORT ORDERS: The hyper-popular Crocodile Cafe in Pasadena has opened a “Wading Room,” where customers wading, er, waiting, for tables can enjoy appetizers, pizzas and/or beer and wine. . . . Pierre’s Los Feliz Inn on Hillhurst Avenue in the eastern reaches of Hollywood has added a number of game dishes--including wild boar, quail, pheasant and venison, among other creatures--to its regular menu. . . . The 1988 edition of the K-Lyn San Diego Restaurant Poll & Guide has just been published, and a Hawaiian version of the book is in the works. Meanwhile, the new Zagat Los Angeles Restaurant Survey--which includes some 16 San Diego area restaurants, incidentally, and after whose parent publication the K-Lyn guides are quite patently patterned--has hit the bookstores. As I’ve noted about earlier editions of the guide, I don’t agree with the statistical premise behind the work, but it is extremely useful as an up-to-date, conveniently sized and formatted listing of local eating places.

FOOD DAZE: Louisiana-born “Hollywood Chef” Vern Lanegrasse will prepare a 7-course New Orleans-style banquet at Phoenicia in Glendale on March 14. The $55 price tag includes wine and parking.