The conversation was easy and lively, the way it always is when the four of us are together. We sat in the bustle of a packed brunch at Pastis, sipping our masala chai at the Dishoom pop-up, the restaurant moving with the grace and bang of a Broadway number. We weren’t just eating, we were part of an organism of service and communion. That was the point.
And then, a light, and an instinctual squinting that interrupted the hum. The table next to us had whipped out a handheld LED light, which at the moment was shining directly at our table. As they whirled it around to photograph their meal, the light shone on other neighbors, and to the mirrored wall behind them, reflecting the beam back on the dining room. Oh how we wanted to ignore it. What happens at another table is none of my business, after all. But the light kept coming, kept roaring into our eyeline as they stood and shimmied around the table, capturing their eggs from every angle. It was impossible to look away. Maybe that was what they wanted.
This obviously isn’t the first time I’ve observed this. Sometimes it’s happened at my own table (I work in food media after all). But two weeks later, in Kansas City, I ate dinner while an influencer a table over had his phone stand and ring light set up for the entire meal, shining across the dining room. I cannot abide by this. If I have any power as a food writer to influence behavior, then I’ll use it now: Put your lights away and let us eat in peace.
It feels quaint to call something “rude” in 2024, as if every callout of a social transgression needs to have some loftier justification. But shining an LED as bright as a car headlight into the eyes of fellow diners just because you want a clean shot of the butter plate is rude. It interrupts the hospitality a restaurant has meticulously planned, and it plain sucks to be in the middle of a bite or a conversation and have everyone stop and turn to see where the hell that light is coming from.
I realize I am increasingly in the minority opinion here, especially among my own food media colleagues, who believe there is a way to use LED lights responsibly. But in my experience, many light operators tend to underestimate how disruptive their behavior is. Or they see it as a temporary but necessary annoyance. Content creators may argue that their jobs depend on beautiful photos and engaging videos, which just aren’t possible to create in dim restaurants without control of a light source.
Some of the onus to curb this behavior is certainly on the restaurants, many of which invite influencers and their digital setups into the dinner rush for promotion. But if Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives were filming at your spot, surely you’d warn your customers. I don’t know what restaurants should do to balance the needs of the internet economy they may rely on and the rest of their clientele (influencer-only hours?), but allowing someone to livestream an entire meal with their own lighting rig seems a bit much.
What makes it particularly icky is feeling like you’re now involved in someone else’s work. When making a reservation, you consent to being a part of the business of the restaurant, paying what’s necessary and acting in a way that doesn’t disrupt those around you. In exchange, you receive a meal and also all that hospitality brings. You do not consent to suddenly becoming a studio audience.
Of course, take your food photos. Most of us live our lives at least partially online now, and there is joy in documenting the moment, creating a keepsake of a meal and a day with cherished company. And flash can be fun for artfully ugly shots, as long as you’re not taking a ton of them. But everyone is there to experience the whole, not be made to watch as you selfishly man a literal spotlight. So once again, I’m beseeching: Put it away and let us eat in peace.