The Great Indoors, Part 2
On indoor dining, again.
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Back in December, I wrote about indoor dining. I did so slightly against my will, as the topic had begun to feel redundant and exhausting. But these days, just about everything is redundant and exhausting.
Tomorrow, New York City restaurants will be allowed to operate indoors at 25% capacity. They will do so with the very same regulations that were put in place in September of last year, which blatantly failed to protect workers while providing purely performative safety measures for the benefit of patrons. It will be just in time for Valentine’s day, the holiest of American Hallmark holidays and the most dreaded evening of the year for those of us that have ever had to wait on a sea of two-tops.
In many ways this decision appeared to come out of thin air, though a series of lawsuits from a dwindling number of restauranteurs provides some clarity on its origins. At the time the announcement was made, case numbers were just beginning to dip back down from a large holiday spike. The Super Bowl and its likely plethora of unsafe gatherings had not yet occurred. New York City restaurant workers were still not considered eligible for the vaccine, despite being unwillingly and unnecessarily placed under the umbrella of “essential workers.”
Luckily, the latter has since changed. After an incredible amount of backlash and pressure on the city and state government, restaurant workers have finally been awarded some form of relief in the promise of a vaccine, though appointments remain nearly impossible to acquire. The majority of the work force will not even have a first dose by the time dining rooms open tomorrow, with second doses likely not in large scale effect until mid to late March.
As expected, the restaurant industry remains as divided on this announcement as the general American population is on just about everything else. Some restauranteurs are jumping for joy (likely the same restauranteurs who have been filing lawsuit after lawsuit after lawsuit), while others plan to disregard the announcement entirely and continue along with takeout, merchandise, meal kits, and provision sales that have allowed them to stay afloat and keep employees on payroll thus far. Some workers are unafraid of stepping inside and are thrilled by the prospect of a boost in tips and paid hours, while others still fear contracting and spreading the disease but are unable to sacrifice their minimal income.
All things considered, the timing seems rushed and poorly calculated, to say the very least. An article from Eater’s Ryan Sutton describes the move as “reckless” and “head-scratching” for more than a few reasons, questioning the motives and logic behind such a risky decision:
Post-Christmas death surges be damned, the governor announced the other week that the five boroughs would bring back socially distanced indoor dining on Sunday, February 14, at quarter capacity … A more generous observer might say Cuomo is falling to the trap of so many optimistic leaders, leaning on hope as a strategy. I’d argue, instead, that the governor is flipping on a generator in a water-laden basement filled with folks wearing aluminum foil suits … If so many Americans refused to follow the advice of public health officials — which was to stay at home to avoid sickening the people they’re closest to — should we really trust them to care about safeguarding the lives of fellow diners they’ve never met, or of service industry employees they’ve historically treated as an underclass?”
Sutton is correct in stating that hospitality workers have served as a dumping ground for society’s woes throughout COVID, as well as for decades and centuries before. He is also correct in assuming that this decision is rooted more or less in a desire for perceived cultural and economic normalcy, specifically marketed towards the very same individuals who have disregarded all previous warnings from the CDC and other health experts.
And so, aside from the motivation to open dining rooms for couples celebrating the many joys of love under capitalism, there seems to be little need for indoor dining to be reintroduced. We were (and are) hardly on stable ground as far as the pandemic is concerned. Why force it?
On a more personal and individual level, the reintroduced option for indoor dining has left many feeling morally compromised and uncertain. Just because we can eat inside, does that mean we should? And if we shouldn’t, then why make it an option in the first place? A recent article by Helen Rosner tackles the many issues with this internal “debate,” noting that it isn’t really a debate at all;
“Why, then, allow restaurants to open their dining rooms at all? I imagine it’s to create the soothing illusion of progress—against the virus, against economic disaster, toward some sense of a return to normalcy … The arguments for actually taking a seat inside are more inward-facing, and emotional: we’re bored of eating at home, we miss being social, we miss being served; it’s my birthday, it’s my anniversary, it’s Valentine’s Day and Andrew Cuomo told me to do it. All these reasons, at their core, come down to the same thing: I really want to. And who doesn’t want to? … There is a flip side to the fallacy of individual responsibility during the pandemic: just because we’ve been given permission to do something doesn’t mean that it’s the right thing to do.”
What Rosner so importantly points out is the issue of individual responsibility that has become a central argument in the reopening discussion. Despite having much less of an actual impact over large scale change and guidelines, we have all been grouped together under the mantra of “New Yorkers protecting New Yorkers.” As such, we have unjustly been left to feel guilty for the failure of our favorite businesses, or for our peers who are indefinitely out of work.
While this question of responsibility is certainly an important one, as personal safety can and should be controlled by the individual, it also continues to be largely one directional. It is the choice and risk of the diner that is often being referred to—are you comfortable eating indoors?—rather than the employees who are dealing with a much more high stakes dilemma—are you more comfortable compromising your income, or your safety?
And still, a third article in the New York Times made the case for indoor dining, highlighting the flip side of individual responsibility by stating that “It did not take long for New Yorkers to seize on the good news and try to secure what will likely be a coveted reservation inside for Feb. 14, Valentine’s Day.” This news is a glimmer of hope for restaurants, it says, and will provide a much needed revenue boost.
The options provided by The New York Times for these romantic reservations include Cote, Café Luxembourg, and La Goulue, all with price tags that hover in the three or four dollar-sign range. What this speaks to is a much larger issue, one that is difficult to approach without offending anyone, and one that Rosner also addressed boldly on Twitter earlier this week:
Of course, it is not a secret nor a surprise that interest in eating indoors falls along the fine dining fault line. This has been the case for the last year (and for many years before that) as these expensive and elitist restaurants fail to adapt their more traditional business models around rapidly changing times. On some level, this is not their fault—it is nearly impossible to deliver the experience of white tablecloths and gloved waiters through a takeout box.
But just as we mock and chastise the careless individuals who are rushing back to dine indoors, we must take a critical look at the restaurants that are so eager to welcome them back. There are certainly some more casual eateries that will open indoors out of necessity, and may even be able to do so safely and respectfully for the staff, but fine dining has historically been one of the most exploitative facets of the food business—and perhaps it’s time to let it die.
For the duration of the pandemic, the rallying call for restaurants has been one of cultural and economic survival. But in order to do this, do we need to pay hundreds of dollars to be waited on hand and foot, served tasting menus from a silver platter? When we talk about preserving culture, are we really talking about the bottomless brunches of the West Village, or midtown’s countless pubs and grills? In order to “save” our industry—to preserve foodways and communities and gradually pump life back into our economy—do we really need to eat inside, at a time when we know it is unsafe to do so?
Despite being grouped together under the concept of small business “activism,” to me, “save restaurants” and “open restaurants” are simply not the same thing. Much like the more innovative hybrid school models, perhaps it is time to stray from the binary of open versus closed and strive instead for a more sustainable middle ground.
It is becoming harder for me to wrap my mind around the argument that restaurants are unable to survive without indoor dining. Perhaps this is because I am surrounded by likeminded friends and peers, many of whom have been fortunate enough to find work at businesses that value their lives over profit.
These are places like Wildair, where bottled sauces, takeout meal kits, and viral donuts have allowed the business to partially hibernate through colder weather. There is Ursula, a Brooklyn café that has sustained itself on very popular takeout burritos and is now opening its kitchen to a series of pop-up meals designed by queer chefs. And of course, Petee’s Cafe, the shop where I have worked alongside co-managers and owners to design to-go cocktails and bake at home pie kits that have allowed us to continue employing a full staff without putting anyone in harm’s way.
None of these restaurants are the kind of highbrow eateries that are scrambling to open tables indoors for prix fix sweetheart menus, and perhaps this is okay. And there are other restaurants that will be able to execute safe and responsible indoor dining plans, which is probably okay too.
Throughout the COVID pandemic, there has never been a silver bullet solution for the restaurant industry, or for America as a whole. As the vaccine rollout stumbles along and economic relief is held captive in Washington, it seems unlikely that a 25% capacity will do much in the way of “saving” our precious restaurants and the things we truly miss about them.
Unfortunately, what it will very likely do instead is put more individuals at risk. It will force more people to make the difficult decision between personal safety and financial stability. For far too many, it will put these same decisions in the hands of unjust and uncaring employers who have yet to provide the courtesy of checking in with their employees before throwing them onto the front lines.
And so, when we talk about “saving restaurants” by opening them back up, I can’t help but wonder exactly who and what we are referring to.
Are we talking about the line cook, who has a statistically higher rate of COVID related death than any other profession? Or is it the manager, who has been scrambling to make sure that temperature logbooks are up to date and rapidly changing regulations are being followed, living in a constant state of anxiety that the business will come to a halt with so much as one violation or positive test result? Perhaps it is the server—whose tips have reached a record low while disrespect and harassment from customers remains at a record high—failing to make ends meet as patronage dwindles due to fear and cold weather.
The brutal and possibly unpopular truth is that when we talk about restaurants as living, breathing beings—beings who are grateful for the return of something we know to be dangerous—we instead impose life into these four walls, and the money which they make. We value the buildings themselves, as opposed to the people inside of them.
In order to truly save restaurants, the economy, or perceptions of normalcy, what we really must do is bring the pandemic to an end. By introducing indoor dining at such a precarious moment, we are merely pushing this eventual relief further and further into the future. By banning indoor dining, we are suffocating and entire industry and the individuals it employs. When faced with such a perpetual lose-lose situation, what is one to do?
To strongly oppose the mere option for indoor dining is to ignore the countless businesses and unemployed individuals that are in desperate need of extra income. But to say that indoor dining is the only solution for restaurants is to minimize the value of such efforts as the CSA boxes added to the menu at zero-waste wine bar Rhodora, or the provisions shop attached to Hunky Dory. It is a failure to recognize that new and exciting restaurants have been born in the midst of dining restrictions and service limitations, such as Rolo’s in Ridgewood, or Daughter in Crown Heights. It is to disregard the success of innovative chefs, owners, bartenders, managers, and cooks who have found ways to truly reinvent the wheel in the face of a never ending crisis, staying financially afloat and protecting their staff from yet another major life or death decision.
And so, much like everyone else, I find myself one again conflicted and confused. We are caught still in the pandemic spiral, left in an endless loop of “can we” and “should we”.
But by now, we know the risks. We know who is benefitting and who is falling through the cracks. We know how to support businesses through ordering takeout directly, or buying t-shirts and tote bags and house-made hot sauce. Perhaps we know how to dine indoors safely, but we also know who is really able to afford to do so.
And we know that just because we can, doesn’t mean that we should.
In other news: I’m hosting a (virtual) cooking class!
Join me on February 16th for an interactive workshop on improvising in the kitchen. We’ll be making pasta with whatever you have on hand, and discussing tips and tricks for thinking, cooking, and grocery shopping without a recipe.
Find more information and register here:
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