I loved to go out to dinner, I love to cook, I love to eat. I’ve been going to restaurants since I was a zygote. My earliest dining experiences were at Tower Deli on Kingsbridge Road, Diana’s (Italian) and Hom & Hom (Cantonese) on Fordham Road, and Stella D’Oro on Broadway (yes, they used to have two restaurants next door to their bakery).

Over the years, I’ve spent a small fortune on restaurants. The bigger my job, the bigger the tab, as client entertainment grew in importance. So, yes, I loved restaurants.

But restaurants didn’t always love me back.

The Italian fave in Brooklyn that my dollars supported in its early years accounted for nada when I was told they were no longer taking reservations. Rather, it was suggested by the co-owner that I queue up in the street at around 5 p.m., for a shot at a 6 p.m. table. Ummm….no!

At some hot Manhattan restaurants, I was asked to wait for hours at the bar. I had reservations but there was no table for me. Other times, prices soared while service and quality sunk to “meh” levels.

Another issue: between the impact of age (and lower metabolism), eating out with friends and family three times a week, and client breakfasts and lunches. I gained weight like a sumbitch.

Then, Covid came. You may have read about it. Lockdown. No gyms. No more restaurants. I was cooking three meals a day for a long long time.

A funny thing happened. I had more money in my checking account. My blood pressure went down (way less salt in my diet). I started losing weight (like a sumbitch; 55 pounds since Covid, and counting).

These days, I go to restaurants once in awhile. Just modest local places. I no longer travel far and wide to chase the hot, new, must-go, boite. I no longer plan reservations weeks in advance and/or settle for off-peak dining times (if I wanted to eat at 10 p.m., I’d travel back to Barcelona). When I do go, I eat way less, for I’m no longer used to restaurant portions. I’ve become one of those who split appetizers — and sometimes even entrees. And I order more club soda, as opposed to two, three, four drinks.

At home, I buy more quality protein, veggies, and fruit from local purveyors. I shop at wine shops that offer quality. As a result, I no longer open a vein for three-to-four hundred percent markups, the restaurant alchemy that transforms a $15 bottle of serviceable-but-hardly-great Sicilian red into a $60 investment. As we used to say back in the day: “fuck that shit!”

So when I see an article like this, I can only chuckle. “Restaurants Aren’t What They Used to Be (and That’s a Good Thing)”

https://www.nytimes.com/2023/10/20/opinion/restaurant-industry-shutdown-inflation.html?ref=oembed

I mean, boo-hoo. I get it. Rents are high and margins are low. Newsflash: every industry paradigm is in flux. Figure it out, but don’t expect me to cry for you. I gave you decades of hard-earned cash. In return, I got indifferent waitstaff, screaming babies at 9 p.m. in “nice” restaurants, and wayyyyy more sommelier shade than I ever deserved.

The pandemic gave us many life lessons. Don’t waste a minute of time. Keep your loved ones close. Jettison those who give you grief. Support your passions. Eat and drink merrily, for tomorrow….

But consider the joys of home entertaining, and of portion control. Find and frequent quality, local purveyors of protein and produce. Watch Jacques Pepin videos and learn some kitchen technique.

And for God’s sake: go easy on the salt.