Check please

There’s a trend happening at restaurants, and not just the trendy ones (SWIDT?). And I’m just going to say it at the top: I’m against it.

The table-side credit card swiper. While it seems like a convenient innovation, these little devices come with a not-so-tiny downside: the complete annihilation of your tipping privacy.

Picture this: you’re enjoying a nice dinner out. The food? Fantastic. The service? Good, but not quite stellar. Your water glass went unfilled for an uncomfortably long time. Your steak arrived a shade past medium-rare. But nothing outrageous. It’s the kind of performance that warrants a decent, yet not overly generous tip.

Enter the table-side swiper. Your server approaches with a smile that’s just a bit too eager, holding the device. Suddenly, you’re confronted with the digital tipping screen, complete with conveniently pre-selected options: 15%, 20%, 25%. The "Custom Tip" option dares you to choose it while your server watches.

In the old days before the table side swiper, you had time to discuss the tip, the service, the server’s attitude. But the swiper is a conversation killer.

With “Under Pressure” as the soundtrack playing in your head, eventually, inevitably, you wind up tipping more than you planned because the swiper robbed you of your ability to reflect, discuss and tip in peace.

The irony is they were probably intended to make the dining experience more seamless, less stressful. In reality, they’ve introduced a new level of awkwardness to your meal.

I don’t imagine servers are thrilled about this either. They know when a table’s vibe is off. But with swiper in hand, there’s not much they can do to change that in the moment. Smile too hard, and it’s desperate. Smile too little, and they risk looking like they’re mad about the tip before you’ve even entered it.

Also, those swipers are often tracking the server’s tip averages. Some restaurants use them to keep tabs on who’s getting the big bucks and who’s scraping by. So now, it isn’t just about your tip—it’s about their performance metrics. And those earning lower tips might not be performing as well in the eyes of management.

Here’s my solution: let the servers drop the swiper and walk away. Give everyone a moment to breathe, reflect, and tip like a decent human without feeling like they’re being judged. Or worse, tracked.

And by the way, can you warm up this coffee? Thanks.

My compliments to the chef

The happy gentleman in the picture is Michel Richard, a French chef and former owner of Citrus, which was and will always be my favorite restaurant in L.A.

Citrus was novel for many reasons. Location was one. On the northwest corner just one block off Highland on Melrose, Citrus was at the end of an unassuming residential block. It had a closed in patio, with large umbrellas and a roof that could be drawn back, although it rarely was.

Instead of hiding the kitchen in the back of the house, Richard was one of the very first who chose to separate it from the dining area with a wall of glass, turning it into a gallery where diners could watch their food being prepared.

They could see the chefs at work. The attention to detail. The timing. The skill. And, vicariously, they could experience the pure joy of creation.

Citrus was also the home of my favorite restaurant dessert ever. Michel Richard's raspberry tart. Now, I'm not a fan of raspberries, and I'm not crazy about tart flavored items. But the way this dessert was made, the blend of flavors, the impossibly smooth texture, the thickness of the crust, the balance of flavors. It was perfection.

Citrus was around during the years I happened to be doing a lot of commercial production in Hollywood. And as any creative team will tell you, there's no lunch like a production company lunch. Or a post-production house. Or music production. If you had a good idea and a budget, you were wined and dined at the restaurant of your choice.

And since all the production companies and editorial houses were within five minutes of Citrus, the choice was easy.

I'm not saying I took advantage of that as often as possible. But I'm not saying I didn't.

Here's the thing. I can remember a lot of great meals I've had and restaurants I had them in: Jeremiah Tower's Stars in San Francisco. Emeril Lagasse's NOLA in New Orleans. Laurence McGuire's Lambert's in Austin. George Lang's Café Des Artistes in New York. Great meals and chefs to be sure.

But for me, none of them match the feeling of adventure, comfort, happiness, camaraderie and satisfaction of eating on the patio at Citrus.

Sadly, all good things come to an end. Citrus closed in 2001. Another incarnation opened at the Hollywood nightclub Social (cleverly called Citrus at Social- go figure). But the experience was never the same, and that version shuttered in December of 2009.

Michel Richard is no longer with us—he died of a stroke in August of 2016. But he did what every great chef aspires to.

He left me wanting more.