Archived Article By Tom Fitzmorris Originally published June 26, 2006 Click here for the current edition Bottled Water Takes Over A few weeks ago, I dined at the excellent Longbranch restaurant in Abita Springs. The waitress asked whether I wanted bottled water or tap water, just as servers do now in every restaurant with even a little pretension to gourmandise. But in that particular restaurant, the question borders on the absurd. The water at Longbranch comes from an artesian well, in a community that's known for its excellent water. The tap water there is at least as good as any bottled water. But offer it they did. Why? If you dine in a restaurant anywhere in Europe, you are offered bottled water, and you are charged for it. Period. I hear there are European restaurants where the water is free, but I never found one. Indeed, one of my most vivid memories of my first visit to Paris was the sight of everybody--particularly young adults--walking around with bottles of Vittel water in hand. It was an accessory, a fashion statement. And a necessity: drinking water fountains are very scarce in Europe. Bottled water isn't new to New Orleans, of course. The oldest unreconstructed menu in town--Antoine's--has always shown Evian, Perrier, and Vichy water as options. (I have an old one that also offers Canada Dry and Clicquot Club.) That was an old affectation that nobody paid any attention to. Then, suddenly, Perrier was everywhere. That was about 1985. Restaurants sold it in little bottles for awhile, then we got tired of it. Then surcharge-bearing water came back with a vengeance in the mid-1990s. Now when you sit down in a first-class restaurant, you're asked about "your water service preferences." I never had a preference, or a desire. Water is water. Except in classy Italian places, in which it seemed right to have a bottle of San Pellegrino bubbly on the table. The practice of serving and charging for bottled water is now universal in the upper layer of the restaurant business. Is it worth the extra cost? Obviously, many people think so. Kentwood and Abita Springs water sell by the millions of gallons. Dasani and Aquafina waters (both of which are tap water run through intensive purification processes) are marketed by Coca-Cola and Pepsi-Cola, respectively. Bottled water fills lots of cooler shelf space in even the cheesiest, chewing-tobacco-friendly convenience stores. There's no question that the best spring waters are better than tap water, even in a town that has pretty good tap water. (New Orleans tap water consistently rates very high. If you dispute this, you haven't been to any of the places with truly terrible water. Like Orlando.) Regardless of all that, a ruse has been found to add another six to ten dollars to your check. And, strangely enough, this happens almost entirely in the restaurants that are already very expensive. I am still chafing from the $107 worth of Fiji water that was served us, no questions asked, at the Ambria restaurant when the Eat Club went there on our Chicago trip a couple of years ago. The bottlers of these waters have aggressive waiter-training programs. In some restaurants, the waiters have become shameless in their sales pitches. Particularly in a host-client situation, where the host will look cheap if he doesn't spring for the bottled water. In an article a few weeks ago in the Wall Street Journal, a waiter said that he always brought out two bottles of the ordered water. He poured out the first one into the glasses, then placed the second--opened!--on the table. Of course, everyone helps himself, and the check ratchets up a few dollars. Bottom line: It's the bottom line. A profit center. I don't mind spending money for fine details in restaurants. But I twitch when what was once free or optional is now forced upon me at a high-profit price. Or am I just being an old crank about something else in which I fail to be stylish? © 2006 Tom Fitzmorris. All rights reserved. news@nomenu.com