Keeps Diners Completely in the Dark
By JANE COSTELLO
Staff Reporter of THE WALL STREET JOURNAL
ZURICH -- Nothing looks good to eat at the Blind Cow restaurant.
It's not that the pan-fried trout with boiled potatoes and the red
snapper
with green lentils are bad. It's just impossible to see the dishes or
the
plates
they are on.
Or the silverware.
Or anything at all.
That's because patrons at this eatery in this pristine Swiss city dine
in
total darkness and place their trust in the hands of bartenders, cooks
and
waitresses,
almost all of whom are blind.
[Blind Cow]
Named for the Swiss game of blind man's bluff, Blind Cow is the
brainchild
of the Rev. Jorge Spielmann, a 37-year-old blind pastor who has been
known
to
blindfold his dinner guests just for fun. Mr. Spielmann was inspired to
open the restaurant while volunteering to tend bar at a 1998 public
exhibit
in
Zurich where sighted people groped their way through various dark rooms
to
catch a glimpse of what it means to be blind. After serving up drinks
in
the
dark, Mr. Spielmann saw the light.
"For once, you couldn't tell the difference between the hobby blind and
the
professional blind," he says. "I wanted that feeling to continue."
Dark Motives
Mr. Spielmann and four blind colleagues set out to establish a
restaurant
that would provide jobs for blind and visually impaired people while
giving
the
sighted the chance to appreciate the skills required to cope in the
dark.
After raising an initial 300,000 Swiss francs (about $170,000) in
donations
from
local businesses and charities, Mr. Spielmann found space in an unused
Lutheran church.
The 60-seat restaurant opened in September 1999. Poetically situated at
the
crest of a blind curve in a quiet residential neighborhood, the
restaurant
has
stained glass windows that are ablaze in the evenings and a spotlight
that
shines over the heavy wooden doors. At first glance, the well-lit
reception
room looks like any other, with a menu written on a large chalkboard,
and a
receptionist seated in front of a telephone and cash register.
But any similarities end when a blind waitress arrives with bells on
her
toes to usher diners into the darkness. One guest is told to place both
hands on
her shoulders, while other members of the party follow in kind. She
leads
them through blackened curtains to a dimmed holding area where they get
a
rundown
of the rules: no smoking, no iridescent watches, no flashlights and,
above
all, no wandering. Guests who need to use the lighted restrooms must
wait
for
her to lead them, to and fro. Any requests during the meal are to be
made
by shouting to summon the bell-wearing staff.
The bells also serve to allow the wait-staff to avoiding colliding with
each other with plates of hot food. "We still bump into each other a
lot,"
says
Christine Wegmueller, a 29-year-old music student who has been a
waitress
at Blind Cow since it opened.
Once the ground rules are explained, guests parade through the pitch
black
to their tables, as the waitress explains where the chairs and place
settings
are located. The staff says there is no more breakage at Blind Cow than
at
any other restaurant, since customers are extraordinarily careful not
to
knock
anything over.
Once seated, customers place orders and then sit back to feast on their
remaining four senses. When the meal is over, diners tread lightly to a
lighted
reception desk, where people blink their eyes, pay the bill and stuff
tips
in a piggybank shaped like a blindfolded cow.
"It's very noisy in there," says Blind Cow patron Patricia Sennhauser,
who
heard about the restaurant from a friend and decided to make a
reservation
for
lunch. "It was so loud, it was difficult to hear my companion. I found
myself leaning forward as if I were blind."
Another first-time customer had a hard time remembering what she ate,
since
she spent so much time concentrating on how to eat it. "It was easier
than
I
thought it would be, but I kept touching my eyes to make sure they were
still there," says Iris Voegelin, who came to dine with a group of
co-workers.
"I'm happy I still can see."
Most customers agree that the menu of modestly priced German
specialties is
secondary to the atmosphere -- or lack of it -- and that they come
mainly
for
the experience. Mr. Spielmann says his biggest fear was that the
novelty
would wear off, and Blind Cow would close down in three months.
Instead,
every
seat is booked for dinner through March.
"At this point, customers have seen it all," says Blind Cow's manager,
Adrian Schaffner, who thinks that the concept could be a hit in cities
like
New York
and Los Angeles, where sophisticated diners hunger for new experiences.
"To
be successful in the restaurant business, it's not just food and drink;
you
need a message."
And an open mind. In order for the Blind Cow concept to catch on,
experience junkies will need to check their table manners at the door,
since dining in
darkness invites the temporarily blind to eat like cavemen while
avoiding
any social repercussions over poor manners. Some diners confess to
wiping
mouths
or mustaches on sleeves. Nobody worries about being seen using the
wrong
fork, either.
Others take short cuts. "It's hard for people to use knives, especially
when they order meat," explains Ms. Wegmueller. "Lots of times, they
pick
it up
and eat it by hand. It's easier that way."
Some customers use the cover of darkness to have a little fun. Consider
three couples who sat down for dinner recently. When the women left to
go
to the
washroom, the men changed seats. When the women returned, each man
leaned
over to plant a kiss on the lips of his unsuspecting companion. "One
woman
said,
'Stop! You're not my husband,' " laughs Ms. Wegmueller. "But another
one
couldn't tell the difference and those two just kept on kissing."
Inevitably someone would use the restaurant for, yes, a blind date. The
woman came in first; she nursed her drink in the dark, and the man was
led
in to
meet her a half-hour later. To the disappointment of the staff, the
couple
left separately, without having laid eyes on each other.
Mr. Schaffner sees a bright spot in the story -- and a way to market
Blind
Cow. Starting next March, he plans to make Monday night "date night,"
complete
with guest speakers to discuss sex and relationships. "People can ask
all
kinds of questions in the dark," he says.
VICUG-L is the Visually Impaired Computer User Group List.
To join or leave the list, send a message to
[log in to unmask] In the body of the message, simply type
"subscribe vicug-l" or "unsubscribe vicug-l" without the quotations.
VICUG-L is archived on the World Wide Web at
http://maelstrom.stjohns.edu/archives/vicug-l.html
|
