Most of us know someone who can be found daily (or even multiple times a day) at a rural restaurant: Retired farmers and widowers who breakfast at the place the rest of us call The House Of Knowledge. The new moms who meet up for coffee and complete sentences and leave quickly when naptime comes. The old couple who will take their noon meal at the corner table as long as one of them can drive.
The regulars rub elbows with tradesmen, sales reps, long-lost relatives, hunters and fisherman, tourists, and motorists inspired to seek out dive bars and diners.
Those of us who eat out less often are important to the mix, as well. And we want to support our supper clubs and casino restaurants, taverns and truck stops, barbecue joints and every other kind of mom-and-pop place that serves food. Because they’re important to our rural communities.
The hospitality industry is tough everywhere, but even more so where the population is thin. Out here, a neighborhood is measured in miles instead of blocks so a restaurant is probably a destination rather than a stop on the way. Out here, the average income is likely lower than in more urban areas but the cost of food may be higher. Out here, the labor pool can be considerably smaller. Out where it takes longer for a volunteer fire department to arrive, insurance premiums reflect that. Out where municipal services don’t reach, a restaurant owner needs a water well and septic system. Out where it takes longer to restore power after an outage, a restaurant owner risks losing everything in their cooler if they don’t install a backup generator.
There’s little that we, as customers, can do to fix many of the concerns that cause restaurant owners sleepless nights. But there are some simple things we can do to show rural restaurants and their employees our appreciation. Here are five.
Make it mindful. Your presence is a transaction, but your patronage is a relationship that supports a local business and local families. A friend of mine eats out nearly every day instead of cooking for one. It’s not just about the food. Much of the time, she has plans to eat with people she cares about because she makes a point of nurturing relationships. When she’s alone, she engages with those whose paths happen to cross hers that day. She makes others feel like they’re important and treasured. She works this magic in local restaurants, which benefit from more than the amount on the check. Patronage fosters a symbiosis between a restaurant and the greater rural community.
On a lesser scale, Bill and I have become more mindful about our decisions to eat out. For example, we now meet friends who have dietary restrictions at a local restaurant instead of entertaining them at home so they can choose what to eat (plus I don’t have to “company clean” the house). With another friend, the chance to visit over a meal afterward gets us out of the house and to the gym in winter.
Make memories. Going out to eat was not something my family did when I was little, so I have special memories of a few times, like dipping French fries in ketchup with my dad. And I treasure memories made, as an adult, in local restaurants – like Jonah, as a toddler in a high chair at Kubah’s, with long eyelashes and a magnetic smile that pulled ladies of a certain age across the room to coo while waiting for their fish fry.
We have many fond memories of the previous incarnation of a place just up the road . Back when we worked 80 hours a week in an outdoor recreation business, on Sunday nights we went to Porky’s Place. It was a traditional Wisconsin tavern: Burgers and fries. Patsy Cline on the jukebox. A cup of dice on the counter for the shake of the day. When Porky was working alone, he would pour our beers, take our orders, go to the half-door between the bar and the kitchen and holler “order up”. Then he might serve drinks and take orders for someone else. But soon he would stick his head back into the kitchen to “discover” that the “cook” back there was “sleeping”. He would disappear to go wake up that no-good lazy so-and-so. If anyone came in while he was back in the kitchen it was our job, as regulars, to keep up the fiction that he was gone to wake up the cook. He would reappear shortly with our food, shaking his head at how hard it is to get good help.
Manage expectations. Not every meal comes with a floor show like Porky put on. But every place has its quirks. The regulars know them. Others may not, but we can manage our expectations. For example, in my neck of the woods there are still addresses where it’s tough to tune in to a big sporting event. During the playoffs, it’s wise to check the game schedule before planning to meet a soft-spoken or hard-of-hearing friend to catch up over dinner at a restaurant.
Someone coming from a place with many more options may think their expectations are reasonable until they meet the reality of rural restaurants. The supper club we go to for our anniversary does not take reservations – not by phone, not by app. When you arrive, you go to the bar and get your party on the list for a table. Expect a wait. In warm weather, we wait outside on the deck overlooking the lake while enjoying an adult beverage. Here, the stars of the floor show are usually loons but sometimes a float plane takes off or lands on the lake. In a while, someone comes outside to take your order. Later, they come back to tell you your table number. When you get inside, your table is set up with a relish tray. Then comes salad, then entree, then the tempting tray of dessert options. The pace is meant to make the meal an occasion.
The fantasy and the reality. It takes hard work to create the impression that everything is relaxed. According to the National Restaurant Association, 63% of adults have worked in the restaurant industry. We should have some insight into what goes on behind the scenes. We could be better about recognizing how we, as patrons, can make an experience memorable in a good way.
For example, a restaurant owner I talked with had been slammed on a Friday night by several unexpected large groups. Like most places up here, they don’t take reservations. But they appreciate a call when a large group is planning to come. That gives the restaurant a chance to call in another server, thaw more fish, maybe even adjust what’s on their next food delivery.
It doesn’t take that much effort to imagine how things feel on the restaurant side. When the barista has a line backed up waiting to order, is the blender drink really what you want? When they’re refilling salt shakers, are they trying to close? When the weather is bad and you have nothing better to do than hang out, what does not turning that table cost the server?
Be kind. Social media and online reviews give customers opportunities to amplify their experiences. That can be great for a rural restaurant – or not so great. And even a great place has a bad day from time to time. My mother used to say, if you can’t say something nice don’t say anything at all. So say something nice about the restaurants in your rural community. Share good thoughts on the Facebook group everyone monitors for local gossip. Save constructive criticism for when you can have a private word with the owner or manager and they can appreciate it.
Donna Kallner writes from Langlade County in rural northern Wisconsin.
The post 45 Degrees North: 5 Big Tips About Rural Restaurants appeared first on The Daily Yonder.
