Recipe for Worry

All Michael Byrne has to do to cause a panic inside a restaurant kitchen is turn a spigot and test the water temperature.

Word quickly spreads to the other eateries and cafes at the Santa Monica Place mall: A health department inspector is lurking about. He is checking the water, probing the stored meats. And, worst of all, he is giving people grades.

Thus begins a workday in the field for Byrne, a 31-year-old “Environmental Health Specialist III” with the county Department of Health Services.

With the agency launching a crackdown on poor sanitary conditions, inspectors like Byrne are working harder than ever to protect the public against vermin infestations, unsafe food handling and the food-borne illnesses such as salmonella and botulism that sometimes follow.

On this day, Byrne’s job is filled with quiet confrontations and small dramas. One restaurateur dogs his every move, even looking over his shoulder as he writes up his report. Another paces frantically while waiting for a plumber to rescue him from a potentially disastrous code violation.

The stakes are higher than ever because of a recent health department decision to intensify the pace of inspections and require restaurants to post the grades, although the county cannot force facilities in any of its 88 cities to display the grades unless the city agrees.

A seven-year veteran of the department, Byrne is at once self-assured and soft-spoken. If you stand too far away, you might not hear what he is saying. He listens respectfully as owners plead to have their grades raised, but he never wavers from his position.

“I’m here to do a routine inspection,” he says to the cashier at Khyber Express, the first restaurant he visits.

“Today?” the cashier asks.

“Yes.”

Byrne is directed to the back, where he enters the kitchen through an open door, the sound of running water and Spanish-language radio filling the room.

An employee finishes cleaning a knife and puts it on a metal holder, the most sanitary method for storing cutlery. “That’s always nice to see,” Byrne remarks.

Next, the inspector heads for one of the stainless steel sinks. He lets the water run over the probe of his “thermocouple” digital thermometer.

“Right now, it’s 103 degrees,” he says. That’s below the 120 degrees that state law says is required to kill bacteria when employees wash their hands and clean utensils. If the water in the kitchen remains below 120, Khyber Express will have to stop serving customers. Immediately.

Byrne explains this to an employee, who quickly makes a phone call. In less than five minutes a dapper man in a gray suit--the owner’s son--appears.

As the examination proceeds--in all, it will last about 40 minutes--the dapper man watches Byrne’s every move, squinting when the inspector shines a flashlight inside the refrigerator. Adjustments are made to the water heater, which raises the water temperature to a scalding 160 degrees.

Finally, the verdict comes in. Khyber Express can stay open but has earned only a C. Byrne posts the grade near the front counter, on a wall where every paying customer can see it.

A worker at the nearby Puccini cappuccino stand watches the C go up and remarks, “That’s why they look so sad over there.”

Khyber’s C is sandwiched between the two Bs earned by its neighbors and competitors in the food court, an Italian eatery and a yogurt shop.

“He was less than enthusiastic,” Byrne says of the owner’s son. “He wanted to look at every single point to see if that C wasn’t really a B. The points add up quickly.”

To calculate grades, inspectors start with a perfect score of 100, then deduct points for code violations.

Khyber Express lost points for a number of infractions, including light fixtures without proper covers (a shattered bulb can spray food with glass) and a hole in the wall next to the ice machine. “That would be a good vermin harborage area,” Byrne says.

Next, he takes his metal clipboard and walks a few steps across the court to La Dolce Fine Italian Ice Cream.

He checks the soft-drink dispensers for mold but doesn’t find any. He examines the “dipper wells” that hold the ice cream scoops--running water must be flowing through them at all times. They are in perfect order.

“This is looking good,” Byrne says. He turns on the tap in the utility sink and declares, “Now that’s hot water!”

When he finishes, just 20 minutes or so later, he is ready to write up the report and calculate the score: 96. “You did so well you’re going to get an A,” he tells the cashier.

Byrne posts the grade and the cashier breaks into a wide smile. She points up at the A and looks over at the Puccini coffee stand, where one of the workers smiles back and flashes the congratulatory OK sign.

As luck would have it, Puccini is scheduled to be inspected next.

Here, too, the hot water is not hot enough, just 104 degrees.

“It’s amazing how these things repeat themselves,” Byrne says. “I could go weeks without seeing a hot water problem. And now two in one day.”

The owner is summoned. In less than five minutes, Robert Simanian appears. Byrne, his voice not much louder than a whisper, tells him the legal consequences of the insufficiently hot water.

Simanian opens the door to the water heater, jiggles the switch, but manages only to send the temperature down to 94 degrees. Soon, beads of sweat drip down his neck. He appears quite worried, though he tries to put the best face on the situation.

“I really look at this [inspection] as another manager for the restaurant,” he says. “The public has every right to have people inspect the place.”

Byrne goes on with the rest of the check, finding a number of code infractions, including a missing paper towel dispenser and employee belongings stored next to paper cups used for serving coffee.

With its neon signs and shimmering displays of desserts, Simanian’s coffee stand looks immaculate, but the infractions add up to a C. That’s not his only problem, though. The water temperature won’t rise above 104.

“If I fix the hot water, does it go back to B?” Simanian asks.

“No.” You’re graded on what the inspector finds, period.

With the water temperature still refusing to climb past 104, Byrne breaks the bad news.

“Tell your employees they can’t serve any more customers,” the inspector says. “Don’t make a bad situation worse by staying open.”

Simanian is flabbergasted.

“Do you think it’s fair to close a store because the water is 16 degrees lower?” he asks. “It’s really overkill. If I were the inspector, I would not close, I’m sorry.”

Byrne posts a “Notice of Closure.” To reopen, Simanian will have to fix the water heater and call for a follow-up inspection.

His day’s work complete, Byrne leaves the mall, the three coffee shop workers behind him still standing at their posts, telling customers they can’t serve them.