Will Horner
The date is January 2nd, and it’s 10pm. I am standing at the host desk of a restaurant that has barely been open a fortnight, and the security guards change over. The new guard signs in on the logbook and hovers around the desk.
“Hey,” he asks, “can I look at a menu?”
“Yeah, sure,” I say, handing him one. I am suspicious because the security guards had, up until this moment, shown no interest in the details and machinations of the restaurant. They turned up, nodded at me in acknowledgement and took their cues from me as to when the restaurant is at capacity, or when to start telling people we are closed.
“Can I ask for a favour?” He is sheepish. I already know what he wants.
“Go for it.”
“Do you mind checking the bookings for February 14 for me? Dinner?”
I shake my head and laugh through my nostrils in response while flipping the booking system over to Valentine’s Day. It’s worse than I thought.
“Sorry dude. Every two-top is triple booked.” Even I am amazed. As far as I knew, we hadn’t advertised Valentine’s Day or even decided on the menu for the evening.
The guard covers his face with his palms and runs his fingers down to his chin. “My friend told me. He told me to organise something before Christmas. My girlfriend is going to kill me.”
I don’t envy him. Out of my fifteen years on the floor, I had somehow managed to work only one Valentine’s Day dinner shift, and I am still scarred from it. Set menus, late guests, high demands, lobster mains, chocolate desserts, cheap sparkling wine, terrible tips.
It’s for those reasons and more Paul Bentley, chef and co-owner of Casa — Gourmet Traveller’s State Winner in its most recent restaurant guide for WA — opts out of Valentine’s Day every year.
“I’m not a fan of doing it. The people that come out on Valentine’s are trying to check a box. They’re not our regular clientele and they feel obliged to celebrate it. They don’t understand the venue, they’re rude to staff and have a bad time. We just open as usual. No set menu, no lobster cut in two in the shape of a heart, no pizzas in a shape of a heart (next door at Casa Pizzeria) either,” says Bentley.
Then he chuckles. “When I was working at a fine-dining, Michelin-starred restaurant in New York, Valentine’s went over two days. On the 13th, it would be mistresses and girlfriends, and on the 14th it would be wives. These men would come in and eat the same set menu two days in a row and our maître d’ would say, ‘Good evening, sir, we haven’t seen you in ages. So great to see you again, we hope you have a pleasant dining experience.’”
It makes sense that Bentley would want to avoid putting his staff in a similar position.
Ben Sears, who is the head chef at Public Wine Shop, has worked on Valentine’s Day every year of his 20-year career and was, “traumatised quite early.” Sears recalls a Valentine’s at a two-hatted restaurant in Melbourne.
“The first section I was put on by myself was in pastry. There used to be a trend of having a heart-shaped dessert on a Valentine’s menu. It sounds terribly naff now, but it was a different time. I was running the pastry section for the first time, about to work one of the busiest days I’ve ever worked, and I was told that dessert would be a roulade shaped into a heart garnished with red fruits. It was a fancy Swiss roll, really.
“I dove in with a heady cocktail of ignorance and exuberance and it just didn’t work. I produced something that looked like a very white, pasty bum with pimples. It took so long, and I was in the weeds. Almost 20 years later, I can still remember that demoralising feeling of pushing myself as hard as I could and watching 80 slices of a pimply, pasty bum [shaped] roulade being walked out into the dining room. Heartbreaking.”
On the other side of the pass, front-of-house veteran Emma* recalls an incident from her days working at a luxury hotel. Valentine’s Day, predictably, is a common day for engagements. While many public proposals are met with a joyous response, not everyone can be so lucky.
“This guy ordered a cake through the events team, which is a separate part of the hotel. Facilitating it would have been very involved. It was a chocolate and peanut cake with ‘Will you marry me?’ written on it. He went into anaphylactic shock because he forgot he had a peanut allergy. We ended up comping their bill and organised a free stay for them even though it was his fault. The paperwork was monumental.”
Emma never found out if the response to the proposal was a yes, but you would hope it was after the near-death experience. The things we do for love, hey?
Meanwhile, Nick Tesar, the creative director for Four Pillars Gin and the World Class Bartender of the Year 2022 has a great time working on Valentine’s Day. “Admittedly, I have had the luxury and protections of working in north-side wine bars in Melbourne.” For those who are unfamiliar, the north side of Melbourne is frequented by progressive, socially and politically conscious millennials who often outwardly shun commercial, capitalistic displays of manufactured affection.
“In the last five years, anti-Valentine’s Day tables have become a thing,” says Tesar. “They’re mostly female groups enjoying each other’s company, and they’re much more pleasant to serve. They’re more engaged with what you’re offering. Their energy is just excitable and empowered as opposed to the Valentine’s crowds who are going through the motions.”
It may come as no surprise, but the common theme between all these hospitality professionals is that they prefer to offer guests a great experience, which is difficult on nights like Valentine’s Day.
So, what can the average consumer do to avoid the clichés, disasters and pimply butt-looking desserts on February 14th?
Sears leaves me with some sage words of advice. “Valentine’s might be the worst night of the year to eat out. Restaurants are overbooked and set menus are overpriced. Go out on the 15th instead, you’ll have a much better time.”
And Bentley, despite the previous cynicism, concurs: “You don’t need a special day to hang out with someone you love and care about. You can do that any day of the week. The food is guaranteed to be better, too.”
*Emma’s name has been changed to protect her identity.
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