Getting to know you

As a regular at your favorite restaurant or bar, you really do want to go where everybody knows your name

December 14, 2006|Bella English, Globe Staff

I always wanted to be a regular somewhere. To walk into a place, know the waiter by name, and simply order ‘‘the usual.’’ To have my favorite pink drink appear from out of nowhere. Like Norm and Cliff on ‘‘Cheers,’’ Rachel and her ‘‘Friends’’ at Central Perk, or Seinfeld and his coffee shop, I wanted my own hangout. Somehow, it eluded me. Sure, I have my pizza guy — the ‘‘other man’’ in my life — on speed dial, but it’s not the same.

So I decided to ask people where they went regularly and why. What brought them back again and again and again? And, being a former waitress myself, I wanted to ask establishment owners how they viewed regulars. Is there a downside? Do they expect special treatment? Freebies? (Some of my old customers sure did.)

Here’s what I learned at four places.

Dunn Gaherin’s344 Elliot St., Newton Upper Falls. 617-527-6271. dunngaherins.com

This is the ultimate neighborhood spot, nestled right in the middle of a residential area. It’s run by Seana Gaherin and her husband, Robert Dunn, and they take their regulars seriously. There’s the woman with multiple allergies who asks for (and gets) all her meals specially fixed, sometimes gluten-free, dairy-free, or meat-free. (‘‘I don’t think she’d ask at the Capital Grille,’’ says Gaherin).

There are the weddings, births, and funerals that have been celebrated at the bar. The informal political polling during campaigns. The regulars who bring their kids regularly. Those kids who grew up and now work there.

There are also the Nathansons: Stefan and Carole and their children, Leah, 10, and Lucas, 6. They’ve been coming to Dunn Gaherin’s for their Friday night Shabbat dinner for a decade, bringing Leah, then Lucas, in infant seats. When Stefan, a lawyer, started Room to Dream Foundation, a nonprofit for sick children, he asked Seana to sit on the board. She happily complied.

On a recent Friday night, their waitress, Lily, approaches the table: ‘‘Leah, are you going to have a Shirley Temple tonight?’’ When she brings their meals, she calls each by name. ‘‘Lucas, here’s your pasta, Leah, your chicken fingers ...’’

Seana is everywhere, checking on customers, catching up with her regulars. ‘‘We know it all — husbands, wives, girlfriends, boyfriends,’’ she says. ‘‘We know their incomes. We know their wills. We know their politics. We’ve watched their kids grow up.’’

Carole Nathanson nods over her veggie wrap. ‘‘There are things that people say here that they can’t say at home or work.’’ The Nathansons say the food and the folks keep them coming back. (They always order a killer dessert aptly named ‘‘chocolate decadence.’’)