Food for Thought
At Morton's, tradition is everything
By Wanda A. Adams
Advertiser Food Editor
On the second level of Ala Moana Center, makai side, where the new Morton's of Chicago steakhouse is getting its finishing touches, a man is pacing back and forth in front of the restaurant's polished brass elevator doors.
In a voice just above a monotone, he is reciting a litany of foodstuffs. "The vegetables tonight include creamed spinach, steamed ... uh ... steamed asparagus, steamed spinach and mushrooms. ... (long pause while he searches his memory) ... steamed fresh broccoli, sauteed wild mushrooms, sauteed onions."
'A Night to Remember'
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What: Morton's of Chicago opening gala, a benefit for the Honolulu Symphony
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When: 6:30-9:30 p.m. Tuesday
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Tickets: $100. 524-0815, ext. 237
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Deadline: Friday
He's not just talking to himself. His name tag declares him to be in training for Morton's, and he's practicing his spiel for the restaurant's signature tableside menu presentation. He's one of a staff of 70 that has spent two weeks of eight-hour days training for the Nov. 28 opening (private preview dinners, like full-dress rehearsals, start this weekend).
Another man steps out of the elevator carrying a script, ready to prompt him.
"Let me once again point your attention to ... draw your attention to ... to what?" he breaks off, laughing. His friend offers a few words of direction and he rattles through the rest of his speech.
"After that, you just say, 'Are there any questions?'" the other man says.
And there will be questions. The first and most frequent one is: "Is that a real lobster?" Morton's is a tradition-bound sort of place and one of the traditions is that the waiter, with the aid of a tableside cart, displays food from the menu: plastic-wrapped steaks, a head of broccoli, onions, tomatoes, a potato as big as a brick and, with claws neatly banded, a lobster.
There's a Morton's way to do pretty much everything, and the ideal is that a customer who enjoys the original 20-table State Street Morton's in Chicago will feel right at home in Honolulu's new, 9,000-square-foot location, said general manager and maitre d' Greg Omotoy.
The customs were established by owner Arnie Morton in Chicago, and they apply to the entire 62-restaurant chain.
His dream server, Omotoy said, is someone who has a genuine concern for the guests. That's a Morton's word: "guests," never "customers." And the restaurant is not a "unit" or a "store." It's supposed to be the guests' home away from home, he said.
Every Morton's has private wine lockers where regulars can set aside favorites. Every Morton's has an exhibition kitchen (they were among the first restaurants to showcase chefs in this way). Every Morton's has the same rich-looking wood paneling, the same Frank Sinatra sound tracks ('Ol Blue Eyes, who once declared a Morton's steak the best he'd ever had, is the only crooner you'll ever hear in a Morton's restaurant) and the same feeling that Tony Soprano might just walk in, take a corner table facing the door and call for the 24-ounce porterhouse.
