I hope Nancy doesn’t mind me jumping in on her story. Robb Walsh of the Houston Press pulls a double review at a restaurant at which he is recognized and the results are rather interesting:
“As for the experiment, it’s clear I was treated much better than Josh. The point isn’t to punish Gravitas for recognizing a restaurant critic. That’s not their fault. But their natural reaction — lavishing me with superior service, providing special items not available to the general public at no charge, and making sure to give me a better piece of meat than the average guy on the other side of the restaurant — clearly illustrates the value of anonymity.
When I eat at a restaurant unrecognized, I can provide readers with a good idea of what their own experience might be like. When I’m spotted, I can only describe what it’s like to be pampered. And unless you’re a celebrity, that kind of restaurant review doesn’t do you much good.”
Good reading and goes right along with Nancy’s post. You can see it at [Link no longer available]
Now back to Nancy’s original piece: Reviewing the Reviewers:
It’s been a big week for Olea: first, Esquire magazine fingered it as one of the 19 best new American restaurants; the Oregonian reviewed it a few days later and wasn’t convinced it’s one of the 19 best restaurants in Portland. That night, the Pearl district restaurant hosted a party for itself and some of the chefs participating in Saturday’s Wild About Game event, a party I attended. There was good wine and good company and hale congratulations, and yet, one sensed the lightest of palls; the O’s B- was rankling, and people, if not out loud, were wondering how that happened.
I am here to tell you how that happened, though not in regard to the food at Olea (where I have yet to dine, save for the whole foie gras laid out on the appetizer buffet, a football-sized organ wreathed with fig puree we were told to just dig into, an invitation that felt vaguely salacious and wrong). John Mariani, Esquire’s reviewer, has come under stark criticism this week for having his meals and travel comped. He’s apparently been doing so for years. While I find this reprehensible, it doesn’t really answer the question, why Olea? The answer to that is: pubic relations.
Good public relations firms know whom to hit and when; they flood your e-mailbox with announcements and invitations; they ask you to join them at a restaurant so you can experience it and learn the back-story, so as to fully appreciate the place; to put faces to the food, so to speak. This is their job, and if they do it well, the venues they are paid to represent get attention, which means they make money, and on and on we roll.
There are writers who get their information this way, namely, those that work for publications that have no budgets, and those who don’t see an ethical problem with it. I work for no publication that would allow me to work this way—I once had an editor dress me down in no uncertain terms for writing I’d eaten a dessert in a second visit when, in fact, it had been the third—and consider it an issue with no wiggle room. When a PR person contacts me, I tell her, I am happy for her to mail me anything she likes, but I cannot accept a free meal, and specifically not with her. (In eleven years as a journalist, I have had exactly two meals with PR people: during the first, the woman enumerated her ex-husband’s many shortcomings, and during the second, the rep, who vacillated between manic and laconic, giddily wondered whether I’d like to have Valentine’s Day dinner with her and her husband, an offer that made the shrimp roll I was eating suddenly taste like school paste, and I fled before dessert, leaving the woman humming into her Amaretto.) I personally know and like several PR people; I’ll even meet them for a drink, but only on neutral ground. And I can never take anything from them for free, because then they will be waiting for me to write something about their restaurant, and the chef will know who I am, and I will be brought unordered dishes and fawned over by wait staff and when I leave, the valet will give me a special secret wink, and how, I’d like to know, does one write an honest review when one has been treated like Donald Trump?
There are writers who don’t understand my reservations; I once had a cub reporter ask me how many PR-arranged lunch junkets I went to per week, and when I told her, “Zero,” she looked perplexed.
“Then how do you write your stories?” she asked, clearly not yet having been introduced to curiosity, investigation, and shoe leather reporting.
An editor at Bon Appetit, a magazine I have written for since 1997, and I recently discussed the ethics of reviewing. “I had someone here in Portland ask me why I review anonymously,” she said. “I was floored. How can you not review anonymously?” She went on to say that, there was a particular restaurant she adored, but that her friend’s brother was a bartender there, and so she could not in good conscience write about it, so sent someone else, who also loved it, and so the place was written about.
“Though I didn’t do any of the writing, I couldn’t,” she said. “It’s not ethical.”
I added what she already knew: that the way one finds the restaurants for, say, a feature about dining in Savannah, is to do recon before one travels to the locale, speak to friends who might know spots, do a lot of walking, a lot of talking, a lot of eating, and then, when one has winnowed out the bad and chosen the good, go back and get a few quotes from the chefs. For a restaurant review, the formula differs, in that I never make my presence known. Months after I wrote an article about Portland restaurants for Bon Appetit, I met the chef David Machado, whose restaurant, Lauro, I’d included.
“I never even knew you were here,” he asked, which I thought was the oddest question: why would he have known?
The issue of reviewers and anonymity has been a discussion point on Portland food boards; people feel they can be utterly candid about a restaurant experience, even if—especially if—the chef/owner is a friend. I believe people who believe this do so for two reasons: they think it’s important to judge the restaurant by more than its food/ambience/service; that who owns the restaurant and how long he/she has and whether it’s a good day or bad is something that needs to be taken into consideration, and that the reviewer’s awareness of these side issues makes for a fuller, fairer, more balanced review. The second reason is, I think they like being part of the food community; like walking in and having people greet them warmly, like the insiness and intimacies.
Lovely sentiments, and of absolutely no consequence to the average diner, who does not know the owner; who do not know the pastry chef just had a baby; who is not privy to the information that this is a second act for the chef and she saved for six years and if the place doesn’t succeed, it’s back to the box factory. What matters to the diner is what’s on the plate. And the only way for the reviewer to know what’s on the plate is to be a diner. Not a star, not a friend, not someone who is going to perhaps give the press that will make a place.
Or break it. I have no idea whether the owners/wait staff at Olea knows Grant Butler by face. If they do, one can imagine the excited whispers behind the swinging doors, the attention to detail and eagerness to please and impress. And then, the bewilderment that Butler did not find all aspects of the experience stellar. Better, of course, not to know whom he is; to simply do the best you can, diner by diner.
There are people, and perhaps Mariani is one of them, who like their butts kissed; who feel entitled to special treatment because the gifts that are within their powers to bestow are so very prized. But if what they bestow is based on favoritism and spin and special treatment; if in order to get his ass into your restaurant, some entity (and, as it turns out, not Esquire, who can afford it) has to pay his airfare and hotel and meals, then how can we trust what he writes? Perhaps the place is fabulous, but how would we know?
You know, it is amazing the amount of traffic the Saucebox trilogy still gets… close to 100 hits just today. Talk about bad P.R.
I was recently at one of the newer restaurants to open in Portland. All through my dinner I watched one of the local food critics being fawned over by the owner, brought dish after dish while writing copious notes. I joked about it to the server who whispered, “damn right… were gonna get a good review”.
Well, y’all know how I take reviewing and the media at heart so here’s my spill…
Portland is a small town so local reviewers (those who write on a weekly basis and have permanent employment with a publication) can hardly be kept secret. It’s not like restaurants have to keep photos in the kitchen to recognize them… after a while it’s quite easy to spot them – and they aren’t many.
Anonymous reviewers are obviously an exception as might be reviewers from out of town or freelancers. But hidden-identity reviewers have to stay so, and as such cannot be mainstream, or traditional. FoodDude, am I wrong?
Next point: when a publication (the Oregonian) has a whole section dedicated to individual preferences (Real-Life Critics), it is validating the personal connection to the detriment of objectivity.
I recall in the last year a classic Karen Brooks in that column: “clarklewis, a place where Karen and her friends hang out.”
Once you shred that dignifying veil of decency, writing becomes a free for all and only those restaurants with the best personal connections, or with any other leverage, win.
And they win big, considering how influential on the general public our local press is.
So I’m thinking that Olea’s shortfall is not that it is mediocre (so many mediocre places are elevated to godlike status!), but that on top of being mediocre it also has no direct link with anyone at the O.
Alas, it seems that the local newspaper can only support vigorously one restaurant at a time.
I think I don’t have to go to great lengths to prove how we live now in the Gotham era…
There can only be one.
-TD
PS: I have not been to Olea so I am speculating on its mediocrity as a means to make my point.
Nancy,
While reading this a thought occured to me and I’m hoping you might chime in with an opinion.
I’ve been pounding the F&B boards for twenty-some odd years, and during that time I’ve witnessed a slowly developing phenomonen that seems to have recently come into full bloom. With the advent of cooking channels, food blogs, etc., the general public (emboldened with thier television-osmosis degrees) have risen en masse to challenge (as opposed to experience) a meal in a restaurant. Speaking with some level of authority on the subject of food has become a national pastime, as this, and countless other forums are testament to. As it relates to your musings above, I ask the following question:
Have we all become reviewers?
Recently I recieved a voice message from a customer who said that both she and her husband were unsatisfied with the lunch they’d had a few days prior. She went on to ask what we were going to do about it, and left detailed return phoning instructions. It occured to me that five years ago this same customer might have pointed out her displeasure to the server, and perhaps five years before that, simply chalked up the experience as a dissapointment, and weigh the merits of a return visit.
Apparently, her meal was served promptly, temperature-intact, and met all the basic criteria of the menu description. Our “failure”, it would seem, was meeting her expectations for the dish.
When reading a restaurant review in 2005, are diners to be guided or empowered? Ironically, I don’t feel that food review styles or protocols have really changed that much over the years; it’s the readers who have morphed, and I think it’s changing the face of the industry as a whole.
Some may argue that a food-savy customer only serves to raise the bar, and that we all benefit from the advanced levels of scrutiny, and authoratative nods that come with an Emeril 101 education.
It is often said that dining out is one of life’s simple pleasures. Somehow I sense that “simple” is no longer part of the equasion.
Your attack on those, like myself, who believe, “whether it’s a good day or bad is something that needs to be taken into consideration, and that the reviewer’s awareness of these side issues makes for a fuller, fairer, more balanced review,” seems to work against the goal of a helpful review.
You say, “What matters to the diner is what’s on the plate. And the only way for the reviewer to know what’s on the plate is to be a diner.” Sure. And if you go in three times in the one week when the head chef has been home sick or go in in the first week that it’s open or go in immediately after a menu change, you may not be doing the diner a service by not trying to find such things out, by not putting your experiences in context.
Of course there are limits on such things. You could try to add context ad infinitum and never write the damned review, but then again, a little “curiosity, investigation, and shoe leather reporting” is a good thing, correct?
The issue of whether someone is a “star” or a “friend” is separate, however. It’s also unrelated to whether someone should or shouldn’t have relationships with a restaurant. eg, my response to that editor from Bon Appetit would have been, “So what. Go in when the bartender’s not there.” Maybe I need a more robust idea than what you’ve given of what is meant by the term “ethical.” How weak-willed was this editor? I would also want to ask this editor if they’ve refused to review any restaurants that advertise in the magazine. Isn’t that much more a conflict of interest than that her friend’s brother works there?
Anonymity may have a role and a usefulness in reviewing. But only insofar as it gives the reviewer a better sense of how the restaurant typically performs. Beyond that, the most important things are fairness, honesty, and the ability to write in a way that gives the reader a sense of whether they would enjoy the place or not, despite the opinion of the reviewer themself.
FOOD DUDE
You might be interested in this:
http://www.newsobserver.com/lifestyles/story/2824697p-9273963c.html
I commented today about it on eGullet. Fat Guy (one of the founders) claims to spend $20k on food a year and get comped $30k per year. That’s like $137 a day. I pointed that out on eGullet and they promptly deleted it. They’re very sensitive over there. (I’ve been threatened more times than I can count on each hand by both eGullet and Chowhound that they’re going to kick me off and I fully expect it someday.)
Witzend: These are terrific and salient points, ones that began with Julia Child telling us, “You can…” and end, who knows where?
First, knowledge is always a good thing. It can also be used for ill, and in the case of your diner, as a tool with which to wield her obnoxiousness; I will wager she is just as much of a horror with her hairdresser. In any case, the time for her to complain is at the table, when what she is complaining about can either be rectified, or left as is; she may not like your ossu bucco, but if you do, she’s free to order something else, or to go elsewhere. There is the chance that customer has something valuable to say, but not this customer. I am curious: did you return her call?
As for everyone becoming food experts because of TV, etc.: I rarely watch the shows so cannot comment on their efficacy, but if they are on a par with other American TV shows/products, I wouldn’t put much stock in what’s being taught. It’s entertainment. Has it taught millions to be better cooks? Not sure. To act the pedant with restaurateurs? Looks like it.
ExtraMSG: The editor in question is far from weak; she is quite feisty and extremely well-known. What she says is policy, and it’s correct. I think we can all agree I would not be assigned to review my husband’s place. I could write about it, but I’d have to name my relationship to him/it, so readers could navigate the review with that in mind. Similarly, my best friend’s restaurant. It’s a matter of degree. Editors simply avoid the scholls of conflict of interest. Advertising is a separate issue. The venue is free, or not, to advertise. The magazine is free, or not, to review it. Are there publications that praise places in order to garner ad dollars? Yes. But the places I’ve reviewed for (LA Times, Bon Ap, LA Weekly), do not.
You might recall that in 1999, then-publisher of the Times, Kathryn Downing, pubished an issue of the Magazine all about the new Staples Center; the reporters were assigned articles, the whole thing was published–and two weeks later, it was revealed that Downing and Times Mirror CEO Mark Willes–neither of whom had any newspaper experience before they’d joined the Times the year before–had set up a profit-sharing arrangement with Staples. The newsroom exploded; hundreds of editorials across the country pillioried the Times. Willes was genuinely baffled; he’d made no secret of wanting to tear down “the wall” between the editorial and business sides at a newspaper. But the reporters certainly didn’t appreciate it. You’re assigned an article, you write objectively, maybe you feel the edit is a little glossy and nicey-nice, but, okay… and then you find out, it’s all been to put money in Staples’ owner Phil Anschutz’s pocket? Screw that. If I wanted to shill, I’d work for an ad agency. In any case, Downing and Willes were both let go–with golden parachutes.
There is no anonymity in Portland. Most chefs in town know what Grant Butler looks like, what David Sarasohn looks like, and what Roger Porter looks like. I’ve never seen any of them try to keep their visit a secret or lowkey. I honestly feel that they want to be lavished upon and also that your chances for a favorable review are higher when they are.
Nancy- I’d also recognize you, but if I send you something out it’d be more because a)I could and b)I’ve read and enjoyed numerous of your articles and it’d be my show of appreciation.
I agree with everything you say, Nancy. As someone who is not friends or associated with any professional chefs in Portland, I want reviewers to write from my perspective. Well, not my perspective, but from the vantage point I would assume were I to walk into that restaurant. I will not be sent a different exotic palate cleanser between courses, so it rankles me to think that their review takes such a favor into consideration. I will not have the bartender tell me “don’t worry about it” when I move from drinks at the bar to my table and try to settle the tab, so this better not factor into the reviewer’s notes. I will not be sent a trio of deserts “just to see which one I like best,” so what do I care if they extend this service to the reviewer.
I base my restaurant decisions in large part on reviews I can trust, so I want reviewers who enter a restaurant unknown, and who leave it the same. Unlike the reviewer at Esquire, I spend my own hard-earned dollars when I go out to eat, and I prefer to read reviews from people who actually have some indignation when they feel as though their money has been wasted on an inadequate meal.
Nick, while it’s nice to know if the chef is ill or if any other extenuating circumstances are affecting the restaurant when one visits, the simple fact is that most of us are spending our own money at these places and can’t afford to keep returning numerous times in order to hit them at their zenith. If we’re not impressed with a place after two visits, we probably won’t return, as there are plenty of very good places to eat in town.
Sure, all of us like getting special attention, whether an amuse when we visit a restaurant where we are regulars or a complimentary glass of wine from a restaurant that appreciates when we share a bottle with them. But even if you try hard, most people can’t disassociate themselves from this special treatment in order to focus on how the restaurant would appear to someone who didn’t get that special treatment. Therefore, it’s best, especially for professional reviewers, to be as anonymous as possible if they are trying to recreate the experience of a typical diner. If, like the Fat Man, they’re just trying to get free meals, then some (myself included) will take what they say with a large sprinkling of salt.
Okay, I just read the Fat-man article. *ARGH* AND he WENT IN wearing CHEF pants. Yeah, that won’t call attention to yourself. Chefwear pants aren’t really comfortable, are extremely unflattering and I can’t imagine why anyone would wear them outside a kitchen unless they want to call attention and/or need the baggies and elastic waistband.
Okay, I just read the Fat-man article. *ARGH* AND he WENT IN wearing CHEF pants.
Funny, I had the exact same reaction. It’s such a “gee, I hope I won’t get noticed!” charade, like an actress wearing some crazy outfit with sunglasses in the middle of a dark restaurant. It also reminded me of some surgeons who somehow ALWAYS needed to stop off at the grocery store on their way home from the O.R….wearing their scrubs. What a attention-grabbing ploy it all is, and it’s frankly insulting that they pretend it’s just something they happened to do. Show up at a restaurant wearing chef pants…really.
I must say, that article totally turned me off to anything he might write.
A big part of a chef / floor manager’s responsibility is make sure that whoever is cooking/serving is delivering the same quality of experience whether or not they are there. For a place to actually pull that off is very rare.
To have consistency day in and day out often requires a relatively static menu. Nowadays, though, chef after chef are preaching the virtues of ‘fresh market ingredients’. Which mean menus in flux, which often translates to dishes that aren’t thought out or executed particularly well, unless the staff is particularly talented.
Also, how about term limits for food critics?
The first Chef I worked for was absolutely adamant about consistency regardless of who the diner was. Whenever a server would turn the owners ticket in he would scold them in some strange Marlon Brando Last Tango in Paris fashion. “No names, I told you no names.” “I don’t care if it’s the President, the owner or Jesus Christ. I don’t want to know who it is.” He had been tempered in the competitive and gruelling fire of the Waldorf Astoria were literally any one plate could be going to the President. He never wanted his own food to be influenced by who was there. “This is the Hospitality industry and hospitality is the greatest viture. Everyone should be treated hospitably. Our job is to provide good, nutritious food to everyone. Everyone deserves my best effort”. Another chef I worked for was adamant about portion sizes. Most would think that a little extra salad on a plate doesn’t hurt. Of course when a diner comes back a second time and the salad isn’t as large they question the value of the appropriately sized salad. It confuses the perception of the restaurant. But this is a little off topic.
Then there are regulars. The backbone of a restaurant. Those you know by name and whose order you can fire when you see them walking in the door. They bring friends, they spread your good work through word of mouth, they bouy a slow night with the comfort of their continuous attendance. Yet one can’t treat them too well. No corkage, an occasional amuse, mostly warm welcomes and consistent service. They became regualars for a reason. By altering or enhancing their service it skews their ability to recommend the restaurant, and they come to expect more than what initially brought them to the restaurant.
Reviewers. I have had chefs stand over my shoulder when preparing dishes for known reviewers. I’ve had reviewers walk into the kitchen in between courses of their meal. I’ve had sous Chefs and or Chefs prepare the entire meal themselves. I’ve seen plating and preparations changes drastically to influence reviewers, even though they didn’t announce they were going to do a review.
When it all comes down to it consistency is the only saving grace for a restaurant. If you don’t feel confident in the cooks you employ and the dishes you prepare then something is wrong. Reviewers get special treatment. Regulars get, and should get, special treatment. When influence is peddled, then the average diner loses out, and that is not in a restaurants best interest. We see the dilemna of inconsistency and wonder why. Some restaurants are more concerned with the influence they gain than with the consistency with which they issue hospitality. At what point does the reviewers notoriety become bigger than the food? When a reviewer continually recieves special treatment, that one time he’s treated like a regular diner must seem like a tremendous let down.
If a restaurant functions with a regularly rotating menu and suffers from inconsistency then the chef is to blame. Too many young chefs experiment as they go and the end result is inconsistent items. They also lack the ability to train a staff, or insist on having menu items that the staff can’t execute consistently. Many young chefs are analgous to Magic Johnson as a basketball coach. They are extremely talented cooks who have yet to learn how to really manage a kitchen, a menu, and a staff. Often times they have yet to really understand a cuisine. Magic was an amazing basketball player, yet he had an inability to deal with less talented journeymen. He expected everyone to execute with the skills he had. He created a system that didn’t fit his players and was inable to instruct them effectively.
Chambolle…while I know anyone can choose any name they’d like to use here, since it’s not a commonly-used one, I’m wondering if you are the guy who used to post on the old AOL wine boards under the same name?
The Dude: I agree, though for me it is just a matter of personal ethics. Right now I feel good about what I am doing because I am informing people and hopefully they feel I can be trusted. They may not always agree with me, but hopefully they will at least respect my opinon and know that it is an honest one.
Witzend: I don’t think it is just food. It seems everyone thinks they are an expert on everything. The obnoxification of American society (yes, I made up that word). I think a good reviewer realizes their strengths and weaknesses and acts accordingly. For instance, I don’t know a damn thing about Korean food. You’ll never find anything about it on my site unless I decide to spend some time investigating it first.
MSG: While it is obvious restauants have good and bad days, I still think it is important to point these things out. If a reader is spending hard-earned money on a rare night out, they shouldn’t be burned just because they didn’t know better then to pick a sunday. I agree with another one of the comments here that a good chef will be on top of things enough not to let these things happen. If they can’t ensure quality control, they shouldn’t be open on a sunday (or whatever). If you really want a bad experience, try dining out on Thanksgiving. Some of the worst meals I’ve ever had, at some of the best restaurants in town.
No, I am relatively new to food blogs and boards.
Since I’m already writing, a quick story. When I was working at a new restaurant last year, they had hired a powerful (at least locally)PR firm. The owners also became friends with a local food and wine writer to the point of having her over to their house. They were working it pretty hard. It seemed like an open house for the local critics, one of whom came in one time with a nationally reknowned wine critic.
The two of them at the same table!
Do think they got the same food and service? In fact they didn’t, because the chef cooked the food himself and he wasn’t used to cooking. So it ended up being quite uneven.
I have to say, sometimes I wake up in a cold sweat, dreaming I’ve given a negative review to girl_cook’s or some of the other contributors restaurants. I feel like I should start a list of places I should never go!
MARSHALL
I know about budget constraints, believe me, but the discussion was on reviewers, and I’m assuming professional ones, not amateurs like you and myself. There’s a higher burden, imo, on those who get paid to do what they do and their work circulates to hundreds of thousands of people and becomes the basis for restaurant guides, etc. I’ve usually referred to my own “reviews” as “reports,” because I think that’s more accurate. In that sense, I’m just reporting my experience, not trying to be comprehensive or going out of my way to provide something that I can be somewhat assured is representative of the normal. To do that, I’d have to dine like Food Dude, and I can’t afford it. Stupid internet bubble.
NANCY
It was a rhetorical question. I suspected that your friend was not weak-willed. I just don’t think that the lack of a relationship with a restaurant makes someone more objective or makes them a better reviewer. Hell, I’m the toughest critic on my own cooking that I know of. I tear to shreds my mother-in-law’s cooking. ;-) As a regular at LOW, I knew how good it could be, I knew it’s highs, and because of that, I think I was much harder on it for not reaching those highs as often as it could have and I’ve been harder than some on Ken’s attempts to match Rodney and Kyle’s successes.
Maybe it’s just me, but I think a writer knows when they’re being fair and honest or not. Now, they may feel that they can’t be fair and honest because if they have to attack a friend’s restaurant it will hurt their relationship. But in that case, they should bow out. There may also be a fear of an appearance of favoritism that they may want to avoid. But that’s different from there actually being favoritism.
I may go to a bar, but that doesn’t mean I’m drinking alcohol. I may drive away from that bar, but that doesn’t mean that I’m DUI. It may be safe and easy policy for papers to avoid such appearances because people reason fallaciously, but that again is separate from the question of what is right or wrong, and what is ethical or unethical.
DAVE J
Only one of those three examples would affect a review. If I’m getting something exotic that wouldn’t normally be on the menu, obviously that is not a service to my readers. However, if I’m getting extra courses, that is a service to my readers because I’m able to taste more stuff and then evaluate those items. (I think the smart chef would want to reduce the number of dishes and only send out the best of the best.) If the reviwer gets something free, it makes no difference, because ideally the paper, not them, are paying for it anyway.
FOOD DUDE
I agree, those things should be taken into account. But take the opposite instance. Imagine that for the first month a consulting chef is running the kitchen, some ultra-experienced ***** wonder-cook. But she (nods to girl cook) plans on leaving after that first month and the chef du cuisine will take over all duties. It would be a disservice for a reviewer to just dine there in the first month and then put out a glowing review. It’s very likely things will change after the wonder-cook leaves. I think most here would agree on that, but why just agree when it has to do with the negative? Are the only fair reviews the harsh reviews? To be objective and fair, does it mean leaning towards judging a restaurant at its worst?
My original example was the reverse. Sure, if they can’t cook on Sundays, that should be at minimum noted. I can imagine something like: “Five days a week this is consistently one of the best restaurants in town, but they may want to consider closing for Sunday along with Monday, because when the head chef is out of the kitchen, quality falters.” Something like that. But to just visit on Sundays when the head chef is gone and base a review on that would be entirely unfair to the restaurant and the reader.
Nick, fair enough, I thought you were referring to all types of reviewers/posters in your first paragraph.
I don’t consider myself a “reviewer” either, especially with restaurants, as I’m not as well read/educated on food nor as experienced with other cuisines and restaurants in other areas of the country/world as you, Nancy, Food Dude, etc. But, I love good food and hope that my comments are at least somewhat interesting and of help to at least a reader or two.
MSG: I wouldn’t want there to be even an appearance of impropriety.
I agree with you re: the first month thing in the previous comment. That is one aspect that gives me a great advantage with this site. I can go back and update reviews accordingly. It is true that I return to places that get mediocre reviews more quickly, than places I rave about, but that is because I honestly feel bad when I give a negative rating and want to give them a chance to prove me wrong. A newspaper can’t go back and update. I also listen to word on the street when deciding if I should go back. If people like you, or Marshall are talking up a place that I didn’t like, I’ll go back and give it another chance.
This is also the reason I don’t often do full reviews until a restaurant has been open 90 days. I only break that rule if know I will be returning on a regular basis and will keep the review updated. Heck, I hated Baraka, but did see signs of improvement over the six weeks I ate there, so will be back in a couple of months.
A newspaper can’t go back and update.
As my mom would say, “Change that “can’t” to “won’t.”"
I don’t see any reason why newspapers can’t evolve into something more fluid and evolving. Sure, they lose that sense of permanence, but as I think about the “blog vs. print media” debate you always hear, it strikes me that this permanence is getting to be more of a burden than a benefit. People change beliefs, values, etc. more rapidly now, as more information is constantly coming at them, and I don’t think they are put off by considered opinions that evolve as well.
That is, if the Oregonian goes to restaurant A and says “OMG it rulz!!1!1!” and then a month later writes, “Whoops, now it sucks!” people will get annoyed. But if they do what you do–revisit and revise, and give solid reasons for why they are doing so then I think people would give them as much consideration as people give your revisions. Heck–I think they might even appreciate it. Granted, I’m not familiar with the economics of running a paper, but it seems to me that a paper might want to think about how it can adapt this flexibility rather than being hindered by the “our word must be good for the next five years” attitude.
DAVE J
You’re right. Although, their space costs money and people would be pretty bored if they were always commenting on the same places. However…
If the Oregonian would put together a real website, they chould have a blog of sorts connected to each review where they could do just that. Then at the end of reviews they could promote that site and say that they will update the review with ongoing experiences, etc. They could even encourage readers to comment by giving their experiences.
Or, the Willamette Week could bring back their rotating mini-reviews that they used to publish, but instead of just making them static, random reviews, they could be spots for updating based on new experiences from the staff or trusted sources. Hell, it could even be based on buzz and rumor that they glean from internet sources. Wouldn’t be the first time.
I figured you guys might like this — Robb Walsh of the Houston Press pulls a double review at a restaurant at which he is recognized and the results are rather interesting:
http://www.houstonpress.com/Issues/2005-10-20/dining/cafe.html
S: Thank you very much! Great link.
You’re very welcome!
Have we all become reviewers?
I don’t know of a time when people weren’t reviewers, except that instead of flowery verbiage (or in my case, lunatic raving) on a website, the feedback was reduced revenues from a dearth of repeat visits and a lack of new customers due to bad word of mouth. Though harsh at times, the information proliferation allows the restaurant owner/manager/chef to become part of the feedback loop and address any shortcomings (or reinforce strengths) as the market sees them.
As far as people who have perfectly good lunches and demand restitution, well those people are just a-holes.
For all the reasons everyone has noted, I prefer to leave restaurant reviews to others and rely on the ones I read minimally. (The stories behind the food are far more intersting anyway.)
All of us who follow food blogs and food-devoted websites, and can taste the difference between rosemary and thyme, can sort the genuine from the bullshit.
For those who don’t do their research, they have only themselves to blame. If the internet has revolutionized one thing (of course, it’s revolutionized nearly everything), it’s the ability to research any subject fast.
“Hmmm,” he says as he Googles “rosemary and thyme.”
Biting the hand you feed
How likely am I to dine at Ken’s Place? Not nearly as much as I might have been before I saw Chef Ken’s screed in the comments to his restaurant’s review on Portland Food & Drink. I can understand feeling…
Two points, I made the first one on the Nostrana post – isn’t a review just an individual sharing his or her experience and opinion on the experience (food, service, atmosphere, etc.)?
Second, referring to the beginning of the report, I was also at the game party and it was just that FoodDude. It was not a party for Olea but for the Wild About Game weekend. I spoke to the owner, the chef and the staff. The “bitterness” about the review was not the B-, it was the headline which did not really jibe with the review. Additionally, the reviewer came twice, once during the first week they were opened (thinge were admittedly rough per the staff and owner) and once the week before the review. Those were the points of contention. Frankly, they liked the review. i thought the food at the function by the way was great, especially the quail croquettes.
From the Pope:
A little learning is a dangerous thing; Drink deep or taste not the Pierian spring:…
It’s an interesting question, this idea of disliking, vs. finding technical fault with. Particularly with something like cuisine, which is half inspiration, half execution, or some other ratio of the two. As for ex-lawyer, chef pants wearing, egullet guy, methinks something is rotten in the state of Denmark. He comes off in that link as just as self-important as that woman who called back to complain about her lunch experience and to leave a detailed itinerary as to how it ought to be remedied–does the GAP get that kind of feedback everytime someone buys a pair of jeans that don’t quite fit?
I was fortunate enough to have, and very grateful for, the opportunity to visit Fenouil on one of the first two nights that they were offering service to members of the restaurant community prior to opening for business officially. I was privileged to have the opportunity to enjoy both an evening out as a result of someone else’s hospitality and a small but eager audience waiting to hear my impressions of the evening. I was not swayed by any of the extras (and of course it was gratis but for the bar, though we were invited to place individual orders from the menu) we received; nor was I personally affronted by the apparent lack of experience on the part of the waitstaff, only anxious for them on their first days of service, if they can’t yet recognize their own glass pours without having them literally pointed out, or the lack of insight in offering the choice of a California Chardonnay or a Chateauneuf du Pape when a midlevel white Burgundy was called for. I also found that their acid/fat balance was out of order on 90% of the food that we did try which tells me that either someone in the kitchen has a different idea of the impact of an astringent (lavender, I think, our server was not the most reliable authority) vinaigrette on a salad of mache with lightly grilled porcinis, or has an entirely different sense of propriety than I do. That theme (mine/theirs) persisted throughout the course of the meal.
Is there room for that kind of variation in restaurant reviews, or is that a pre-exisiting caveat that applies to an “educated” audience of restaurant reviews? It would seem that most of the people who post here know their way around at least the rudiments of a restaurant, but what of the general readership of the Oregonian? To whom are the reviews addressed? On this board, one could add the details about the pastry chef’s maternity status, or a change of menu, and those things would likely be taken as a matter of course. In my day to day existence in the restaurant world, I encounter many people who think nothing of creating their own vision out of random or supposed menu elements and would readily judge a restaurant on their ability to materialize prime rib from hanger steak.
That is not intended as a disparaging sentiment, only a question about audience.