Thomas Blythe 

How to get a table in a restaurant

OFM's favourite front-of-house reveals the blags, bluffs and basic good manners that should help secure a booking every time – even if it's full
  
  

Colin Case at Ivy Restaurant
Colin Case at Ivy Restaurant shot for the Observer Food Monthly magazine. Photograph: Pal Hansen Photograph: Pal Hansen

In Bret Easton Ellis's cult 80s novel American Psycho, the psychotic anti-hero Patrick Bateman employs a desperate bluff in order to secure a table at Dorsia – New York's most exclusive fictional restaurant. Craning his neck over the maître d's lectern, Bateman steals the identity of another guest to secure a table for his dinner date. As the real diners arrive for their table and under the incandescent glare of the irate maître d', Bateman and his horrified date make a run for the exit.

Getting a table in hyped hostelries can be difficult, and as tempting as it may be to employ the Bateman method, you will be much better off and more likely to secure a table if you follow a few simple dos and don'ts.

The walk-in

For the uninitiated, if you've not booked and you ask for a table, you're a walk-in. Often chancing your luck is as likely to pay off as booking ahead. There are peaks and troughs in a reservation diary's day. Go at 8pm and you're likely to be turned away. Fred Sirieix, general manager of Galvin at Windows and all-round front-of-house Jedi master, offers this pearl of wisdom. "Many places have emergency or back-up tables or, if it's not already crazy, go before 8pm. But keep this to small numbers – a table of two can usually be found but 10 of you? Walk on by."

Consider your manner. Disarm the host with a smile, and charm. If all else fails, plead for mercy. "It's my wife/husband/partner's birthday and they're desperate to eat here."

The bluff

Bluffing is a risky strategy. Among the more common bluffs are:

"Well, you must've lost the booking because we booked online a month ago." Check the restaurant takes web bookings before whipping this one out.

"I'm a friend of the owner, he said he'd booked me in."

"I'm a critic for – insert national newspaper – now how good do you want this review to be?" Very risky. An experienced maître d' will know their critics and if they say they're going to pop you down on the book and will come and get you when the table's ready, they'll be Googling like crazy if they're not sure.

Russell Norman, owner of Polpo and its siblings, gleefully recounts a tale of bluffing gone awry from his days at Zuma in Knightsbridge. "There was a woman who would book using a certain A-list celebrity's name. She would book for five, making a big deal about them needing a table, then turn up with three friends, make excuses about 'Mr Big' being delayed or a cancelled flight and so on – and thus the fifth chair would remain annoyingly empty.

"One evening, though, we were able to call her bluff since her famous 'friend' was actually dining with a group in the restaurant. We took her directly to the table when she arrived for 'his' reservation. Clearly he had no idea who she was. Watching the blood drain from her face was priceless. I don't think we ever saw her again."

The bribe

An industry colleague once got a call from a businessman from his private jet, he was landing in an hour and would be coming for dinner with his "friend" at 9. "I am sorry, sir, but we have nothing this evening, we're fully booked now."

"What do you want? Sapphires? Emeralds? Rubies?"

She laughed: "No, really we are booked out, can we book you in for tomorrow, Monday evening?"

"What colour is your hair? A brunette! Ah, emeralds then, perhaps jade. I will have the stone sent to the restaurant when I land."

He was serious. Keen as mustard. In the end she had a cancellation and managed to slot him in. The precious rock, of course, never materialised. If you're going to employ a bribe, be sure to make good on it. You may need a table in the future, and a debt unpaid is rarely forgotten.

The charm offensive

Like most areas of life, a little charm can go a long way and going that extra mile can sometimes pay off. As can bare-faced cheek. Here's Russell Norman again:

"My favourite ever chancer was a fellow who turned up [at Zuma] without booking and wouldn't take no for an answer. He was a bit of a geezer and quite likeable. After a lengthy discussion he said: 'So, if I was Jack Nicholson and I just walked in, would you find me a table?' I smiled and had to be honest, saying yes, I would probably re-arrange things to accommodate Jack Nicholson, it's true. 'Well,' he said, 'Jack's not coming tonight so I'll take his table instead please!' I found him a table."

Making a phone call

If you're going to try the old fashioned approach, then consider your timing. While some restaurants will have dedicated reservation staff, smaller venues may not and so it will be a waiter or floor manager wrangling calls. So avoid calling during service times – noon to 3pm or 6pm to 10pm. Tone and manner matter – yes, you might be put on hold.

Some larger restaurant booking systems can be as arduous as calling British Gas, but niceness begets niceness and while restaurants want to be full, if you're rude the line may mysteriously get cut off.

 

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