The Rules: Myths, Misconceptions and Good Advice about Dining Out

Q: There are a few commonly held beliefs about what one should not order in a restaurant. For example: don't order fish on a Monday. Don't order anything but steak in a steakhouse, pasta at a pasta place, etc. In inexpensive restaurants, don't order the specials because they're often the kitchen's way of offloading old food. Are any of these "rules" worth following?

A: The adage "rules are made to be broken" does not always apply to a restaurant. However, just as an artist might, diners should understand these rules so that they can choose to bend them based on their preferences. I happen to be a culinary libertarian. If I'm hungry for fish and thirsty for a big glass of Bordeaux, I don't even want to feel a dismissive thought bubble billow from my server. As Bobby Brown once said, "That's my pierogi. I can do what I wanna do."

Which is to say, you're paying for it. Get what you want.

Nevertheless, a diner shouldn't completely throw away his reasoning. Most of the world's cuisine has arrived at a balance of flavor and texture after hundreds of years of trial and error. A good rule of thumb at any restaurant is to ask about house specialties. (Keep it quick, and don't ask for a complete history of the dish.) House specialties exist for two simple reasons -- they've been time tested and generally represent the restaurant's culinary philosophy.

Dining on the premise that a restaurant can be held up to a signature dish is also a good idea. Culinary spelunkers would, for example, do well to go to an unfamiliar Thai restaurant and use its Phad Thai as a test case. If it's tasty, you'll probably enjoy something else more adventurous on a return trip. Or, if you're like us at The Blue Cleaver, you could just dive -- sight unseen -- right into some steamed bull penis at an untested Japanese restaurant and coincidentally end up ill with a mysterious stomach flu for the next week.

I'll leave that up to you.

Now to complicate matters: house specialties and "specials" are, well, different dishes entirely. The former is a tried-and-true workhorse -- think James Gandolfini in the "Sopranos" -- and the latter is a flashy cameo appearance -- think Judi Dench, er, Dame Judi Dench in Shakespeare In Love. On the one hand, you know the house specialty is going to be dependably hearty and tasty. On the other hand, the special could be surprising and, even, award worthy. This philosophy, however, is not fool proof. You could end up with something inertly bland -- say, Susan Lucci in "All My Children" -- or nauseating -- Andy Dick as a blowjob instructor in Old School.

That specials are offloaded and slapdash doesn't apply very often in the era of the "locally sourced" restaurant. Specials generally are special because the chef was able to buy an unusual, often seasonal, and perhaps rare ingredient. In my experience, a special is never particularly old -- that food almost always gets served to employees at staff meals. The bottom line is that restaurants are always in a game against the clock to "offload" virtually their entire inventory. No business in the world deals with products more time-sensitive.

I work at a nice restaurant (not Michelin rated, but not cheap) with trustworthy chefs and produce. The aforementioned "rules" come from a different era of restaurant, when the entire industry -- from the production to the distribution to the refrigeration and storage of food -- was much less efficient and regulated. I ignore the "stop-loss" policy and order fish at restaurants like mine on Monday even in spite of warnings from professionals like Anthony Bourdain, author of Kitchen Confidential, because, frankly, I'm already placing my health in the hands of strangers simply by virtue of eating there, regardless of what I'm eating.

What's more, my inside sources tell me that the markets in New York are open everyday except Saturday night, so a restaurant can conceivably have fresh fish any day of the week. Regardless, a market's operating hours is a red herring, so to speak. The freshness of a product depends on so many variables, from how it's stored to the product itself (for example, some fish last longer than others), that it's not worth worrying about when it was purchased. Should I even open a can of baitworms and bring up seafood restaurants in landlocked cities? And do you really think butchers herd that porterhouse into the restaurant?

For myself, I won't eat fish at any restaurant not known for its fish. Keep your rules simple: if you think Dame Judi would skip the cameo at the restaurant, order the turkey club (or the equivalent safe choice). And if you're sure Andy Dick would shove the special in his mouth just for the laugh, don't order it.

Go with your gut. In the end, you'll be the one that pays for it -- in every sense of the phrase.

Your culinary libertarian,
Monkey Boy

"Ask A Waiter" is a regular feature in which we ask our contributor Michael Sendrow, a practicing waiter and self-described monkey boy, to demystify the mysteries of food service. If you have a question for the waiter, email us at info -at- bridgeandtunnelclub.com