Christmas feast

Our correspondent plays the hostess at a posh restaurant and watches guests walk out at the idea of a fixed Christmas lunch. But through it all, she smiles

The brief was clear: I was to be the hostess for the Christmas lunch at Tabula Rasa, one of Delhi8217;s most happening restaurants at the Square One Mall in Saket. Their resident hostess Breeze, Brijeshwari if you like, laid out the ground rules: I had to make reservations, greet customers, escort them to their tables and hand them the Christmas 8216;fixed8217; menu. And through all this, most importantly, 8220;remember to keep smiling, no matter what8221; as Breeze said. That8217;s a Breeze, I told myself.

So there I was at 2 p.m. on Christmas Day. I had initially thought of dressing up in white but thankfully stuck to black instead. Just as well because if I had dressed in red or white, they would have made me the official Santa. Now my black dress perfectly hid those layers of Santa fat. I rehearsed my smile before I stepped in. Perfect.

I started with the reservations. The drill began with the customary 8220;Good afternoon, how can I help you?8221; Once the guests walked in, I had to whip out my pen and paper, write down the number of people, ask them if they preferred the lounge or a dining table, discreetly note down the time they come in and then assign them to the table. Breeze had handed me a graphic map of the table arrangement that made my job a cakewalk. The only mental math I had to do was make sure the size of the table was right for the group. Now I should be credited with better sense than sending a group of 10 to a table for two.

I took over after watching Breeze deal with a couple of customers. My photographer wanted me to greet customers with a bow and a flourish8212;8221;it will make a nice picture,8221; she said8212;but I resolutely refused. Breeze hadn8217;t told me that, I said, and I didn8217;t want to look silly. I will stick to smiling prettily.

The first set of customers walked in. I did my piece, asked them if they wanted to be in the dining area or the lounge. The terrace, they said, in unison. 8220;Sorry, but the terrace is closed today.8221; They looked disappointed and settled for the lounge. And then, with great ceremony, I handed them the Christmas lunch menu. 8220;What? Can8217;t we eat anything else? What about the a la carte,8221; one of them said. 8220;Sorry, sir but we have a fixed menu today8212;Christmas lunch,8221; I blurted out, the smile intact. They didn8217;t smile back, instead, discussed among themselves and settled for drinks with starters at the lounge.

The next set, two people, walked in. I repeated my exercise and they walked off. They didn8217;t like the idea of a fixed menu, they said. They8217;d rather choose what to eat. Made perfect sense, but all I could do was sport a silly smile. The third set of guests and again, the same routine. I was beginning to get worried. Would Tabula Rasa kick me out for being unlucky. The smile was beginning to wane. And then, like magic, a couple walked in. I said my lines, they settled for the lounge and didn8217;t mind the Christmas lunch. For the first time, I smiled, nice and bright.

After them, a couple of others walked out sooner than they could walk in. One of them at least made bookings for a New Year lunch. We decided to wind up before Tabula Rasa actually told us to leave. By now, I didn8217;t mind a few drinks or a Christmas lunch myself. But before I do that, I must ask my editor for a salary hike8212;the Christmas lunch costs Rs 1,650 plus taxes for an adult and 800 plus taxes for a child.
Gunjan Sangwan is a trainee staff writer with The Indian Express, Delhi