We dive into the surprising and unverified history of the five-course meal. Join us as we interview resident food critic Bianca Strings on each course’s complicated social and political history at a restaurant worthy of Restaurant Week. The series is printed here in its entirety.
Those Stories: Hi Bianca, thanks for joining us for Restaurant Week. I looked up the first course when preparing to interview you. I could only come up with the other four courses, and then I discovered that the first course was hors d’oeuvres.
Bianca: Hors d’oeuvres come from the development of restaurants in France. The term actually means ‘outside of the work.’ While you might know this option as the bite-sized food they serve at weddings or networking events, it has a specific meaning. The name developed around the location rather than the food.
Restaurants struggled to get repeat customers—they were bored with the same routine. Then, a restaurant owner and his architect wife came up with an idea. What if they created a second location for restaurant-goers to enjoy their first course?
So, at the best restaurants, you were seated by a Maître d’ who immediately told you to leave your belongings and come to this second location. Over the years, restaurants competed for the best hors d’oeuvres spot. The first location was a gazebo. The locations then expanded to rooms behind hidden bookshelves or quick trips to swimming pools. The bite-sized nature of the food made it easier to serve in interesting places.
Those Stories: What’s the most interesting way hors d’oeuvres evolved?
Bianca: Americans didn’t like hors d’oeuvres until prohibition. Then, the Hor D’oeuvre course seemed to last several hours in hidden locations. Prohibition Hor D’oeuvres also led to a string of robberies by a man dubbed Jack ‘bite-sized’ Quiche by the papers at the time, who robbed tables abandoned by Hor D’oeuvre fans. Quiche was never caught.
Those Stories: The second course for a five-course meal is the appetizer. It feels like the appetizer swings between two poles. On one side, an appetizer is so good that it should be a whole meal. Then there’s the appetizer that doesn’t possess main course energy. It seems pretty straightforward. What am I missing?
Bianca: All the pressure is on the restaurant for the appetizer. They need to make patrons want to continue the meal. You would be shocked to know how many people leave a restaurant due to a bad appetizer course.
The first question the course must answer is, are we even hungry? The chef has to make a dish so good that people’s mouths are watering, so that they’re excited to move on to the final three courses.
The second question is, do we want to eat this food? It’s not too late to change your mind if the service drags or the cheese isn’t properly melted—appetizers rely heavily on cheese.
The third question is, did we eat too many appetizers to enjoy the rest of the meal? There’s a delicate balance where the restaurant can’t let the patrons indulge too much in the appetizers. Without a main course, the restaurant loses money.
At one high-stakes dinner, a restaurant owner realized that diners were consuming too many appetizers, so he raced outside, found a string quartet, and paid them to come in to serenade the table. Then, while the patrons were distracted, the staff swooped in and grabbed all the appetizers.
Those Stories: What’s your favorite appetizer?
Bianca: I don’t have one.
Those Stories: We have now arrived at the Third Course, the salad course. We must eat the course to feel good enough to enjoy the rest of the meal. I’m sure this is a straightforward course.
Bianca: It was called the salad course long before they served lettuce. It’s called the salad course because of how much money green restaurantgoers throw around during this third course. Restaurants have mostly abandoned this tradition, but you used to order the main course during the salad course. Ordering food is when friends dining at restaurants became enemies as they battled to get the best main course. A good restaurant often had only one of the best dishes left, so they let the bidding war commence. Someone once gave a restaurant a vacation home to secure the last duck. The restaurant used it to open a second location.
The salad course is all about status. Who gets to place their order first? Who wants to change their order? How many overpriced sides will they add to the meal? Who’s paying, and how much can we squeeze out of them? One restaurant paraded animals around to get people to bid on what they wanted to eat. These animals were the owners’ pets, but the people thought that a specific pig was on the menu that night, and they fought each other for the chance to eat it.
Those Stories: This sounds gruesome.
Bianca: Five-course meals are not for the faint of heart. The salad course is a bloodbath.
Those Stories: And here I am, thinking we’d discuss croutons.
Bianca: We can explore the dark past of croutons another time.
The Main Attraction Fourth Course
Those Stories: We have now arrived at the main event. The fourth course or the main course. In some cases, if you’re only having a main entrée, this is the only course. How should we think about this course?
Bianca: This is what separates a good restaurant from a great restaurant. The excitement of the other courses has worn off. Now it’s time to eat a good dinner. The restaurant needs to do everything possible to make this experience memorable. Bad restaurants think all they’re doing is serving food.
Those Stories: Don’t we go out to eat to be served food?
Bianca: No, we go out for the memory. The restaurant needs to control how the main course goes. There are a few elements that can make the experience better.
First off, is there something that surprises and delights you? Would you like to take a picture of the pretty plate? Does something unexpectedly light on fire, surprising the guests? Is there a bit of magic that the restaurant is performing?
Second, how is the conversation going? You go out to dinner to make connections. The great servers can subtly bring up conversation topics, inviting people to feel closer together.
If there’s a lull, sometimes restaurants hire paid actors to sit at other tables and add some flair to the main course. While proposals always go over well, there’s also a lot of excitement if a couple breaks up during a meal or a business deal almost turns into a fistfight.
Those Stories: So none of it is real?
Bianca: Come on, mister story man. You know what it is. It’s all to tell a good story.
Those Stories: Does it ever go awry?
Bianca: One time, a couple loved a restaurant so much that they invited their friends to visit the same restaurant the following week. The same actor proposed to different actresses both weeks. The diners raced to stop the second proposal, which caused a scene and led to a free meal.
Those Stories: We have arrived at the dessert course—the bonus. Thank you for coming. Here’s your parting gift. Isn’t having some sweets on a night out great?
Bianca: The word dessert is the result of a slang term. It should be called the desert course, but they added the extra ‘s’ to make it seem fancier. This course used to be called the grand finale, but bad behavior set in among the patrons.
Those Stories: Was there a dry and arid climate in the room?
Bianca: No, it didn’t happen in a desert. People deserted their tables. They walked out without paying for the check. They skipped town. It became an art. How much food could you not pay for? The best con artists even ate the chocolate mousse in the process.
Those Stories: That’s terrible.
Bianca: Today’s dessert course is a complicated dance between the restaurant and the guests. The restaurant draws out dessert to entrap the patron and ensure they pay. They put complex items on the menu that take a long time to make, like souffles and Crème Brûlée. Then they serve more drinks and bring out the check when you’re ready to leave. However, they usually make you sit with the bill for a while. That’s also why you valet your car at five-course restaurants. The valet will only bring you your car after you pay. Some Founding Fathers got their horses impounded because they wouldn’t pay their bill.
Those Stories: But in modern times, everyone pays, right?
Bianca: You would be shocked how some people still skip out on bills. People set fires in restaurants. One person snuck out through a ceiling panel. Another family in the 80’s had President Ronald Reagan call them, pretending to have a national emergency they could solve. It was something with Iran.
You can also tell people you’re an important restaurant critic; sometimes, they comp you. That’s what I do.