Font ResizeI knew who he was, and certainly most everyone else there did, too. It was a major industry event and all the "foodies" were on hand. Writers, television people, publishers, chefs - it was quite the wingding. You don't become the major food critic in one of the world's food meccas without people knowing who you are, claimed anonymity notwithstanding. And this party was full of those very people.
I clearly remember the day when I learned what he looked liked. The restaurant that hired me was a multimillion dollar affair. Top designers were brought in to update a space that had commanding views. It was the very embodiment of location, location, location. Adding to that was a top flight of recruits from the Bay Area's best restaurants. The sommelier had an international pedigree, the general manager was from the leading restaurant of the day and the chef was a "rising star."
Nothing was left to chance. Not the glassware, not the menu and certainly not the first food review. The people running this restaurant had opened dozens of others and were not going to overlook the single most important aspect of the restaurant business, and the only one they cannot control, at least not directly.
These restaurateurs knew from experience that this "anonymous" critic liked to show up at restaurants about six weeks after
The Tuesday night it happened had started out like the previous six or seven; a few tourists, some curious locals, a business traveler directed there by a sympathetic concierge. All in all, pretty uneventful.
"He's here! He's here!" exclaimed an older waiter as he ran through the restaurant waving his hands.
In that instant everything changed. The off-duty manager was summoned via cell phone, the chef, too, and the restaurant quickly became all about this one guest.
The sommelier dealt with him directly, the chef prepared his food, everything that went out to his table was checked, double-checked and even triple-checked.
It was as if it was a private dinner presented by the best service staff the Bay Area had to offer, and the critic seemed oblivious to that fact. We watched him read the bottoms of the plates for their manufacturer. We watched him use his silverware from the outside in, carefully crossing the proper utensils, tines intertwined, on the proper plates when done. He drank the correct wines from the correct glasses and in the correct order with the correct food item.
It was a dance of knowing. Us leading, and him following.
We also knew that it was the first dance, and there would be at least two others - a fact that kept the staff on high alert until the trifecta was completed.
About a week after the last visit, the review came out. It was 3 stars, the highest rating for a new restaurant at the time. Which, of course, led to a boon in business, one that lasted until the economic crash brought the overall boon to an end.
In the years that followed, I have read his reviews periodically, recognizing the restaurants that knew who he was, and pitying the ones that didn't, all the while wondering if he was even the least bit aware of the difference. As a result, I have formulated three thoughts on food reviews.
- No victor believes in chance (OK, it was Voltaire who formulated that; though I'm merely repeating it).
- One should be careful when reading reviews; they might not tell the whole story.
- Superficial anonymity can sometimes be the armor for vanity, especially if the song, or the service, is really all about you.
Jeff Burkhart is an award-winning bartender at a Marin bar/restaurant and an author. His columns appear weekly in Here. Contact him at jeffb@thebarflyonline.com.
