Oh, you thought we could stop at just one? Gather ‘round, ladies and ghouls, for more tales to thrill and chill from beyond the creeping grasp of corporate food media!!
One Star
During a full-time freelancing stint many years ago, I got an assignment from a national magazine to review a new TV series created and hosted by a celebrity chef. I gave it what I thought was a fair assessment. It was a perfectly enjoyable show, but my review included some analysis of where I thought the show’s arguments and the chef’s point of view were a little out of touch. After I submitted a draft, my editor said that we needed to be “careful,” because the chef was also a contributor to the magazine. I briefly attempted to make some edits, but it was clear the higher-ups at the magazine didn’t want anything that would be even remotely critical of this chef or anything he did, and they killed the piece. Luckily, my editor was on my side and helped me find another outlet in which to run the review in all its critical glory. But one weird trick to ensure positive coverage of your show is to start writing for all the magazines that would review it, I guess! — JS
The Best Pizza in This City
While updating a map about pizza, which happened twice a year, I removed a place that had been on for many years. It had some national critical praise, but that was now years old, and the pizza scene in this city had evolved a lot in the meantime, for the better. It had been a minute since I’d been there, but I knew the crust of this pizza, as well as the atmosphere in the restaurant locations, didn’t hold up to other places. I got an email of objection from the owner, whom I had previously interviewed. He insisted I needed to come in again and try them before the next update, and that he was so surprised to see his pizza place off the list because it is, in his opinion, still the best pizza in this city. I went in. I did not go in anonymously. They knew I was coming. I told him to absolutely not comp my meal, because this is what we have a dining budget for. I got the same service everyone around me got. I was right the first time; it was not then, and is not now, among the best pizzas in the city. I left it off the list. He was composed enough not to reach out again about it, thank god.
There’s a strange sense of mortification that still lingers for me about this. My immediate reaction was to ask myself if I was right. It was a notable move to take an established place with an endorsement from a national newspaper and a TV show host off the list, even if those were from about a decade ago now. There is nothing inherently wrong with the owner asking if I’d been in lately and requesting that I visit — that’s part of the job. But the mortification extended when I did go in, and it still didn’t go back on the list. It is even harder because he’s someone I know. He’s a nice guy. I totally understand if he took that personally from me. These are the horrors of putting the reader first and guiding them to what is genuinely, based entirely on my opinion, the best experience in food and hospitality. — CES
Check Please?
I do not even remember the name of the restaurant where this happened, but I once grabbed a PR person I was friendly with and asked them to join me at a media dinner for a new spot that was opening. Everything looked normal on the surface — we were served cute little cocktails and offered snacks on sticks — but something, I don’t know what, had gone horribly wrong in the kitchen. After those snacks, there was nothing at all to eat for more than two hours, and everyone in attendance was essentially trapped until the chef finally brought out the entrees. I was so grateful at the sight of food that I didn’t even think about how much longer it would take before we finally got to the dessert course (turns out, it would be nearly another two hours). — AM
Just For The Taste of It
Fine dining is not for everyone. Some argue that it’s a playground for toxic dudes and the world would be better without it. Regardless, an incident last fall involving a Michelin-starred Chicago restaurant and a local sports talk show host caused a bit of a stir. David Kaplan came up through the ranks covering high school sports. He eventually struck it big as a sports radio talk show host. Kaplan also embodies every annoying quality that a Cubs fan could ever possess. In October, he took to the airwaves to bash an unnamed restaurant. He proudly told his audience that he asked for a Diet Coke, which the restaurant did not have. Kaplan proceeded to leave his party, go to a grocery store across the street, and return with a Coke Zero. A server told Kaplan that they would charge him a $15 corkage fee for bringing his own beverage, regardless of whether it contained alcohol or not.
The restaurant was later revealed to be the tasting-menu spot Feld, and like many restaurants of that caliber, Feld does not offer canned sodas, but does offer numerous non-alcoholic options including one of the best coffee pours in the city. Already livid that dinner at Feld cost $225 per person, Kaplan told restaurant staff he would never return and that Feld “is not that good to be that arrogant.” Though Kaplan did not name Feld on the air, the radio bit led to a spat of online review bombing by the host’s fans, a practice popularized by Barstool Sports’ Dave Portnoy. As far as impact? A few weeks later, Feld earned its first Michelin star. A few months later, Feld chef Jake Potashnick won the James Beard Foundation’s Best Chef: Great Lakes. Perhaps this is a stick-to-sports moment? We’re not sure about the alleged arrogance — at least from the restaurant — but Feld is that good. — AS
