WICKER PARK — Pundits have been predicting the death of the communal table practically since the trend began noticeably taking hold in finer dining establishments half a decade ago.
And still it persists, to many patrons' consternation.
Last week, after eating out at Small Cheval — an oft-packed burger joint at 1732 N. Milwaukee Ave. that has a large 18-seat table — Erin Page said she'd had enough.
"I f------ hate communal seating," Page, an artist, bartender and Ukrainian Village resident, posted on Facebook. "It's the restaurant equivalent of riding the public bus."
Her rant touched a nerve, sparking dozens of like-minded responses.
"It's the WORST," one friend agreed.
"There's a BBQ place I love with communal picnic tables. So uncomfortable having your face smeared with sauce and looking at some stranger," wrote another.
Out of 208 respondents to an informal DNAinfo Twitter poll on communal tables, 80 percent said they don't like them, while 20 percent said they do.
Do you like communal/community tables at restaurants?
— Alisa Hauser (@DNA_WPB) March 16, 2017
The issue isn't limited to Chicago. Late night host Seth Meyers recently skewered the fad in a "Ya Burnt" segment, declaring: "Eating at a communal table is like the Last Supper, except you only wish you died at the end."
The lack of boundaries and personal space — "It's like listening to four podcasts at once," Meyers joked — is the most common issue people have with communal seating.
"I've heard somebody's intimate break up details — oh geez," said Heidi Weitzer of Lincoln Square.
DNAinfo came across Weitzer eating lunch with out of town guests at Bang Bang Pie's Ravenswood location last week, where the party of four friends were huddled at the cafe's communal table.
Weitzer's pals said they had experienced previous communal situations in which neighboring diners, prompted by a false sense of intimacy, butted in on their discussion.
"They feel like they can intrude, even though it's private," Krista Plouff said.
On the flip side of over-sharing neighbors is diners' sense that they can't speak freely with their companions, given that random strangers are sitting an elbow away.
Wicker Park resident Brian Elias said he and his husband, Kyle McAdams, went to Dove's Luncheonette — where the seating is exclusively communal — to celebrate their purchase of a new house.
"It's uncomfortable to talk details, money, credit, etc. flanked by strangers," Elias said.
If diners don't love it, why do restaurants continue to provide communal seating?
“It’s about money,” Stephani Robson, senior lecturer at Cornell University’s School of Hotel Administration, told the Atlantic in a 2014 report "Alone Together."
Restaurants operate on narrow margins and in a challenging economy, owners can either raise prices or serve more diners, in the same space, to stay afloat, Robson said.
Kimmy Wade, general manager at Dove's Luncheonette, said the communal arrangement offers flexibility, especially when it comes to different-sized parties.
"We are able to offer shorter wait times to patrons and accommodate varied party sizes. Dove's has a very unique layout, so guests are always excited when we can offer an alternative to counter seating," Wade said.
That same flexibility can also prove awkward, the group at Bang Bang Pie said.
What if there hadn't been four seats together? Weitzer asked.
Depending on how fellow diners spread out or cluster together at a communal table, a larger party's quest for seats can become as frustrating as the search for street parking in Wrigleyville during a Cubs game, Weitzer and her friends said.
Reaction to communal tables also appears to depend on the restaurant involved and patrons' expectation of what the dining experience will entail.
Iliana Regan's Michelin-starred Elizabeth restaurant opened in 2012 with communal seating, an arrangement the chef abandoned within a year.
Regan explained her decision to the Chicago Reader in 2013, saying the communal concept had been a holdover from the days when she hosted underground dinners in her home. The arrangement didn't translate well to a more formal environment, in which meals could last for hours, she said.
"When you put people together — and this is a much wider audience — they don't like each other," Regan told the Reader. "I think for the most part, they don't want to sit together."Cafeterias, coffee shops, taprooms and beer halls — including the popular Oktoberfest-style picnic tables of Gene's Sausage Shop's rooftop deck — are an entirely different animal, some diners said.
Said Small Cheval owner Brendan Sodikoff, "It does bring a more casual dynamic to the space."
Younger patrons seem to be more accepting of communal tables, according to Mario Ponce, owner of Takito Kitchen, 2013 W. Division St. in Wicker Park, and Bar Takito, 201 N. Morgan St., in the West Loop.
"The millennials seem way more interested in social environments and high energy locations to meet," Ponce said.
One caveat, according to some diners: The food needs to compensate for any real or perceived inconvenience caused by communal tables.
"If I had my pick, I would sit separate," Lincoln Square's Weitzer said. "But it's not going to stop me if the food is really good."
As she dug her fork into one of Bang Bang Pie's famous biscuit sandwiches, Weitzer joked, "We will survive."
Small Cheval's community table on a Thursday afternoon after the lunch rush. [DNAinfo/Alisa Hauser]
Bar Takito's communal table. [Courtesy of Mario Ponce]
Communal table at Urban Belly in Wicker Park. [DNAinfo/Alisa Hauser]
