In my former existence west of that big bay, my livelihood depended on the smooth and reliable operation of several million dollars’ worth of precision audio and video machinery. With proper maintenance, calibration (and not a small amount of TLC), most of it ran smoothly and reliably day in and day out, and some of it – well, not so much.

Restaurants are not that different from an intricate machine that must run properly – day in and day out – to be profitable. If it is well-designed and -maintained, and all the parts fit perfectly, it will operate for years. But if even one part – no matter how small – isn’t right for its purpose, the machine can become a liability, costing money rather than making money. I got to thinking about that (while beating this machine metaphor to death) a few weeks ago at a Friends & Family event held by a new restaurant in Ocean City.

A Friends & Family event is very much like the beta or testing phase where a machine is subjected to stress and constant use in order to expose, analyze and correct potential points of failure before it is offered to buyers. Shortly before opening, smart restaurateurs will invite the media, local glitterati, friends, family or some unsuspecting combination thereof into the restaurant to simulate a busy service. It’s an efficient way to put the kitchen and serving staff through their paces. And like any beta phase, sometimes it runs well, and sometimes – well, not so much. But since it’s not for real (i.e., the food’s free, so shut up and eat), the ownership gets a chance to fix glitches before paying customers replace the freeloaders.

My first experience with this phenomenon was many years ago at the long-gone Fleetwood’s supper club in old-town Alexandria. On that fateful day, the kitchen was instructed to make every dish on the menu as quickly as possible. In hindsight, the only problem was that they didn’t invite any people. So the construction crew, my sound/video crew, people from neighboring offices, passersby and whoever else happened to be within shouting range enjoyed a foodie free-for-all. Dishes were shooting out of the kitchen like flying saucers, and that’s all well and good, but not so good for the servers, bus people and runners – they didn’t get any practice serving or working the point-of-sale (computer ordering) system. And, sure as I’m sittin’ here, that turned out to be a problem when Fleetwood’s opened to more-than-capacity crowds. Since then, many of the new openings I’ve attended here at the beach included a trial by fire not only for the kitchen, but for the waitstaff as well – as close to a real-world experience as possible for invited guests, the owners, managers and staff.

Nowadays, the typical F&F can take two forms. A few local eateries choose to make the event a stand-up affair, with passed hors d’oeuvres and a cash bar (you can’t give away booze in Delaware). Though we moochers had lots of fun, it’s not all that educational for the restaurant. Patrons are not ordering from the menu, so the staff doesn’t get to rehearse on the computer ordering system. And the kitchen isn’t getting to practice prep, cooking and plating at warp speed. Though it probably saves a bit of money in the short run, in the long run, the bugs end up getting worked out on real, paying guests. Not a good thing. First impressions count, and many restaurateurs have quietly expressed their regret to me for opening in that manner.

The most effective strategy is simple: Make it like an actual service. Faux patrons are properly seated by host/hostess staff. They order from the menu. They ask for the inevitable substitutions, etc., etc. The servers and bartenders arm-wrestle the computer system into actually sending the order to the kitchen. The kitchen gets to deal with a scary stack of tickets as quickly as possible. And the waitstaff get to figure out the best way to move around the room without spilling soup on anyone’s head. However, if you do end up with a dollop of soup on your head, you can’t complain. That soup was free. Grin, bear it and order a cocktail (again, this is Delaware, so you’ll get a bill for that).

At a couple of recent openings, the restaurateurs added a new wrinkle I admired very much: Passersby who noticed the activity and ventured in were informed of the trial in progress and were seated with a big smile. Why not? The more the merrier, and it enriches the beta testing process that will hopefully result in a machine that runs smoothly and actually makes money. And the hardworking restaurant staff has an even better chance of remaining gainfully employed. Such is that Business of Eating.