Upon entering a restaurant, many men like me would browse through the waitresses before browsing through the menu. After ranking them on appearance, we'd begin a guessing game: Would the most beautiful woman serve our table?
It is the natural hope of such men that the Queen of Flowers - the highest ranked beauty - would come over. As soon as a waitress on the lower end of the scale draws near, a collective big sigh can be heard.
Such anticipation is actually a big trap: The primary mission in a restaurant is to eat. All expectations and appreciation should focus on the delicacies on the table, not on those walking the restaurant floor. Taking a fancy in a good-looking waitress can be a major hindrance on the primary mission.
After patronizing small restaurants for years, I have found that the Queen of Flowers is usually proud of her stunning looks and laments the shabby surroundings incompatible with her outstanding features.
A woman of such stature can fire the wild imaginations of the kitchen staff at the back. This can lead to tension between her and the kitchen boys and among the chefs themselves.
Whatever the situation, the customers who luckily get the attention of the top waitress can soon find themselves in an awkward situation: Their dishes would take forever to serve, and when they do appear, the taste is less than satisfactory, maybe because the kitchen staff are not getting the full attention they desire.
On the contrary, waitresses of more common appearance are much more reliable. Some of the heroines even stand up for the interests of the innocent customers.
Recently, my wife and I dropped into a small Sichuan restaurant. A waitress with the good looks of Super Girl Zhang Liangyin served us, but she soon drifted into her sentimental little corner and stayed there.
Like most small eateries, the waitresses must constantly remind the busy chefs to hurry up the dishes. Thanks to our Super Waitress, we stayed staring at our empty table while people who came after us were enjoying plenty of dishes.
Suddenly, thunder erupted at the kitchen: "No dish has been served for No 11, all the later tables have got their food! What the hell are you playing at! Get the dishes ready now!"
I looked up to find a waitress whose face reminded me of the ferocious bronze masks unearthed at Sanxingdui. She was the busiest figure in the restaurant and constantly barked orders to the kitchen boys.
We looked at her with gratitude, but she had no time to return the look. Running among the tables, she returned to the window and shouted in Sichuan dialect: "Why are the dishes for No 11 still not done? You are a bunch of foolish children with no brains for anything. Get me the 'Hot Hot Kisses' for No 11. Do you hear me? 'Hot Hot Kisses'!"
The so-called "Hot Hot Kisses" is a trademark dish for the restaurant: pig snout deeply fried with green and red peppers.
Our dishes were served in no time. As we ate "Hot Hot Kisses", I couldn't help thinking about our heroine. In my imagination, I did give her a "hot hot kiss".
(China Daily 05/30/2007 page20)
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