The grim reaper and the black crow

By Staff
Robert St. John / food columnist
April 28, 2004
The arrival of a health inspector through the back door of a restaurant has been compared to the grim reaper showing up at one's bedside
The grim reaper carries a sickle. The health inspector carries a clipboard. In a kitchen manager's eyes, they are the same.
There is a feeling that spreads throughout the cleanest of kitchens when the health inspector arrives. It is an ominous cloud of fear, dread and quiet panic.
No matter how "up to code" a kitchen is, how sanitary its surroundings are or how knowledgeable the employees are of health regulations, the arrival of the health inspector scares the daylights out of most kitchen managers.
This clipboard-wielding employee of the state holds an enormous amount of power over chefs. When I am told of the health inspector's visit, I tell my kitchen manager, "Relax, you have nothing to worry about. We're in great shape."
It doesn't matter; the panic has already set in.
This unexplained horror also affects front-of-the-house employees. Seven years ago, a home health nurse approached the hostess stand in one of our restaurants. It was during the afternoon lull.
He was dressed in a lab coat, wore a badge, carried a clipboard and asked to see a manager. The panicked hostess, a new employee who thought she was dealing with a surprise visit from the health inspector, picked up the phone, dialed the intercom to the manager's office and whispered, in her best double-secret agent voice, "The black crow flies at midnight."
The first rule of coded messages: All parties involved in giving and receiving such messages should be aware of the code and what it means.
The second rule: Give the message in a quiet, calm and discreet manner, so as not to scare the customer eating crme brulee at table 26.
Apparently, the hostess had seen the "black crow" phrase used on an episode of the Cosby Show. Finally the manager came out front and sold a gift certificate to the nurse, which is why he came to the restaurant in the first place.
Over the course of my career, I have worked in restaurants (not my current restaurants, mind you) where employees do the health-inspector scramble as soon as he walks through the door. The kitchen manager occupies the inspector while kitchen workers secretly rush to hang thermometers in coolers, cover uncovered food and hide Jimmy Hoffa's body.
For the record, it was not I who made the grim reaper analogy and, over the course of this column, I have not referred to any health inspector that has ever inspected our restaurants. In my opinion, those specific inspectors are some of the most intelligent, and upstanding people I have ever known, fine citizens who are more than likely destined for a bronze bust in the State Employee Hall of Fame Museum.
Health inspectors are our friends. I believe that they are vastly underappreciated and grossly underpaid. We should give all of them cushy offices like the governor. I would like to go on record as saying that all health department employees (especially the ones inspecting my restaurants) should be given immediate raises of at least 150 percent.
I don't want to go overboard here, but while the Legislature is still in session, maybe someone could propose a new law.
Mississippi could adopt the British-knighting practice of giving our finest and most productive citizens the titles "Sir" and "Dame." However, to be original, we could use the terms "Lord" and "Lady." Once the governor has signed this legislation into law, I propose that the first citizens who receive this official designation should be the fine people in our state's health inspection offices (especially the ones inspecting my restaurants).
After all, what have Elton John and Judi Dench done in comparison to the work of our local health inspectors? Only the black crow and the grim reaper know for sure.
Robert St. John is an author, chef, restaurateur and world-class eater. He is the owner/executive chef of the Purple Parrot Caf, Crescent City Grill and Mahogany Bar in Hattiesburg and Meridian. He can be e-mailed at www.nsrg.com.