It’s a mystery to me that Rick’s lunch business is nowhere near the level of the traffic at night. Granted it’s more dramatic at night, and there’s the music, but it's still surprising our lunch customers at noontime are at best 20% of the evening trade. We were amazed this past Sunday (February 5) when there were several independent reservations for lunch – 12 French residents for the American Breakfast, a group of 16 American tourists a la carte, another table for 8 – and then the walk-ins. We quickly added more specialities for the weekend – Eggs Benedict, Huevos Rancheros and Bouillabaisse – and were truly amazed, and exhausted, as the people kept on coming. In the end we had 60 when normal would be anywhere between 8-12. There were heartwarming moments – the group of American tourists were in their 70’s and in love with the movie. When they descended the stairs after lunch they were all singing “As Time Goes By” a capella. There was a surfer and his girlfriend – he checked his surfboard and towel at reception – who also ordered the American Breakfast and sat upstairs.Things went swimmingly until towards the end – a group of 4 Moroccans came in at 2:15 for lunch. We take people before 3pm so there was not problem at this point. We also had a late arrival at 3pm, but the people were very polite and our Maitre d’Hotel cleared with the kitchen what could still be prepared. So at 3:30 when we would normally close we had two tables left. I noticed the table of 4 upstairs was very raucus, consuming a lot of drinks. The table of 3 downstairs enjoyed the ambience, took pictures, ate their meal and departed with compliments. The table of 4, however, paid their facture and then demanded another beer. Then another. Then coffee. Then 2 vodkas (at 4:30pm)! At that point I told the waiter to present the two vodkas with the facture. The staff decided to present the facture without the vodkas and the group left with loud voices, very insulted as they had been told to “take your time” – there’s no way a waiter out of shift is going to tell a client to “take their time” – and refused to pay the second facture. Of course a new entry in our “Liste Noir.” Well at least we were rid of them and ready for the evening, where for some reason we didn’t have many reservations even though it was our weekly Jam Session. That all changed, however, when I went upstairs to rest and got calls from a Cabinet Minister who reserved for 5 and then a regular customer (a fellow restauranteur) with his “entourage”. The number was put at 4 but I’ve learned 4 usually means 8 and they will come late, spend time at the bar and by the time they’re ready to eat a table will appear as if by miracle. All started normally, with the customer table-hopping and introducing a long-lost friend who sang some songs with the musicians. A Moroccan sidekick of our customer unfortunately got a bit carried away and became a bit competitive. The long lost friend of our customer is an Englishman who’s run a rock band in France for 20 years – we all enjoyed his songs with the musicians. But then, the sidekick insisted, really demanded, to have his turn at the micro and definitely I can say his “My Way” was the low point of the evening which indicated impending doom (or dumb). After this song treat (applause relegated to his table) the musicians took their break. The evening tumbled into a tailspin as the sidekick encouraged the lost friend to bring his guitar in and their whole table joined him in – of all things – “Old MacDonald had a Farm!” Well at that point a real line had been crossed. I froze them out the rest of the evening with my best whithering look and finally the old customer came to me and said he wasn’t pleased with the way they’d been treated during the evening and he didn’t feel he’d come back. I said that was fine as I felt they’d really exceeded their wide perameters – I said in effect, tonight you came in, took over, and trashed the place. It was only this morning I thought of the perfect riposte – if I only had a good voice: As they were in their corner table singing Old MacDonald Had a Farm, I should have taken the microphone and sung “La Marseilleise”!! That would have been a great counterpoint with the film.
Super Bowl P.S. I really haven’t followed the Super Bowl since I ran a building of executive office suites in Tokyo during the 80’s and had annual Super Bowl parties that started at 7am (nasty time difference) with Bloody Mary’s and a breakfast buffet. Here in Morocco it’s definitely not a big attraction. In fact I didn’t reflect on it until we welcomed a group of businessmen from Indiana for lunch Monday the 5th – their note in our guestbook: “The Colts win the Super Bowl, lunch at Rick's Cafe in Casablanca – Life is good!”
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