Fat Guy

All these purportedly dirty words -- selfish, entitled, demanding, expectation -- have been trotted out over and over again on this topic, yet those are all the hallmarks of an educated consumer. Consumers are supposed to be selfish. Consumers are entitled to recognition for their business, and especially for their repeat business. They should demand and expect such treatment. And if they don't get it they can, should and (except for, if we take their claims at face value, most people posting here) generally do gravitate to competing businesses that treat their customers better. In the case of a business that has something unique to offer, well, that business may indeed be able to get away with not cultivating its regulars. Like Time-Warner Cable. But that doesn't mean consumers should be happy about it, or be ecstatically grateful to receive whatever crumbs they're offered.

I think it's unfortunate that so many people are willing to settle for zero extra in return for frequent patronage.

So if it's workable, you're wrong. Correct?

Actually I think we're just saying it's a bad idea, for a number of reasons.

A lot of restaurants play favorites while trying to avoid the overt appearance of doing so. A blanket claim like Chang's, however, is a different story. This strikes me as hedging against a possible crow-eating outcome. In any event, no exceptions means no exceptions. Or, at least, we'll see what it means.

Chang has said "No phone. No favorites. No exceptions." If it turns out that there are exceptions, Chang's statement will be false. That would leave two options: come right out and announce a policy change, or continue to claim "no favorites" while actually playing favorites. Whether or not either of those scenarios makes anyone feel the need to eat crow is an open question. I'm not sure that's an accurate restatement of Oakapple's point.

I prefer a few hours at room temperature, however an hour or less is fine too -- the dough warms up a lot as you stretch it anyway. Incidentally, the other night I decided to bake the dough before adding the toppings. So I went four minutes with just dough, pulled it out, flipped it over, added toppings, and baked for about eight additional minutes. This approach gives a puffier crust that's more pizzeria-like, however I found that the second bake wasn't long enough to get the sauce and cheese to the state of doneness I prefer. I'll have to do some more experiments.

None of the above. They should give priority reservations to regulars (which is of course not "my" system) because regulars deserve it. Sure, it's also good for business, but that's not my concern. In addition, I think preferential reservations treatment for regulars is most likely inevitable, in which case at least a few of us will have a good laugh. Maybe, but there are a few additional factors to consider: First, a lot of the regulars have been invited to previews so they have the luxury of defending the egalitarian system without yet having to feel its sting. Second, it's early on the timeline; again, it's entirely possible that the regulars will get sick of the 10am mouse-clicking game. Third, the various partners in the restaurant may eventually decide that a given reservation request is important enough to warrant bending the rules -- if they haven't already. So we'll have to see how the line holds.

Those who have been, did they ask you for ID? (Assuming you're not already known to the staff.)

There's at least one more way in which the comparison is totally irrelevant. ← Of course it's relevant. These are the basic principles of customer service for successful businesses. Needless to say, an airplane is not a restaurant. I think David understands that. His point is broader; the airline information is just an illustration with which he's particularly familiar. But of course you guys knew that.

Whenever demand exceeds supply, some system of allocation needs to be employed. Momofuku Ko has chosen a random or persistence-based system of allocation. I believe the superior system of allocation would be to give priority to those who got the Momofuku enterprise to where it is today: the customers who have made it a successful business. There seem to be the following objections to that proposition: 1. Objection: it's impractical, on account of the size of the restaurant. Answer: set aside a percentage of seats; no problem. 2. Objection: it will make Momofuku Ko into a private club. Answer: no, because only a percentage of seats would be set aside; newcomers would have a chance too. 3. Objection: the sense of entitlement inherent in the demand for special treatment is morally objectionable. Answer: repeat customers who don't expect special treatment are pushovers; they have every right to expect special treatment and, while it's polite, kind and upright to be appreciative of that special treatment it's still something that should be expected. Moreover, in a zero-sum system, those who gravitate towards businesses that give them special treatment are making the exact same choice as those who move away from businesses that don't. 4. Objection: it's the business owner's choice. Answer: yes, it is. 5. Objection: it's not necessary to offer priority in reservations, so long as you offer other forms of special treatment. Answer: you can't have those other forms of special treatment if you can't get in; reservations are fundamental.

I'd just keep calling. And you may as well try for four seats. I believe you're going to pull it off. However, if you don't pull it off, I recommend you go in and sit at the Kitchen Counter on some other night. I had no trouble pulling together a great Thursday-like meal on a non-Thursday, and Waldy just stood up in front of 80 people at the Beard House and said that they're getting more non-Thursday customers coming in and wanting to do multi-course Thursday-night-ish tastings, and that he's happy to make that happen. Plus, he said they do most of their beta testing on the other nights, so they'll often let interested customers taste dishes in progress, etc.

Tasting menus with course-by-course wine pairings are great for a lot of reasons. They do, however, require a lot of service in order to be effective and pleasurable. Trouble is, what was once something that only Lespinasse-level restaurants attempted has now become commonplace -- and most restaurants can't pull it off reliably. This would be a good topic.

1 pound of dough for a 1/2-sheet pan. I do spread the dough to the four edges and corners, however there's usually a bit of contraction during the early part of cooking.

Lesley, is your objection to Daniel Boulud specifically? Or is it a more general objection to culinary globalization? If it's the first, I think I can agree with you. Boulud would not have been my choice. I've had some good meals at his restaurants, and some bad ones, as well as uneven service. I've not been particularly inspired by his take on contemporary French cuisine. (As a business proposition, though, I think his brand appeals to the jet set that will be descending upon Vancouver.) If it's the second, well, I think the train has left the station. Many of the world's top chef-restaurateurs now sit at the head of multinational brands. That's not something that can be reversed. I wouldn't want to reverse it anyway. New York City, where I live, has a culinary scene that I think has benefited from having restaurants from Robuchon, Keller, Ducasse, Nobu and other out-of-town chefs (even, briefly, Montreal's own Normand Laprise). Every city should be so lucky.

There are lots of things about journalism that are hard. It's hard, as a reporter, to conduct a face-to-face interview with a person in his or her home, be served coffee, be treated well, meet the family, and then write an expose that you know will rip that family apart. But you write it because the news value outweighs those other considerations. It's hard to travel on a campaign bus with a candidate for months at a time, see that candidate and his or her staff all day every day, go back to your hotel room and write articles critical of them, then see them all again the next day after the paper has come out. But journalists do that. They learn to maintain an arms-length relationship. They don't avoid the campaign bus or avoid doing interviews. Many types of critics get treated well by those they're covering. Music, theater and book critics get their tickets and books comped routinely even at publications like the New York Times. They get the best seats at performance venues, they get white-glove service from Mercedes when they go to review a new coupe, they have access to expert engineers when they review electronics products. With only a few exceptions, the travel media and wine media are industry subsidized. What primarily distinguishes real from pretend journalism isn't whether those comps are accepted; it's whether the comps result in favoritism. Rogov, I'm wondering how much of your comment is based on personal experience and how much is speculation. Have you ever accepted a comped meal and then written about it? If not, how do you know it's so hard to write about it honestly? If so, did you not write about it honestly? I accept comped meals and don't feel the need to treat such restaurants any differently than those where money has changed hands. And in my experience publicists are grownups and expect that some comps will result in negative or mixed coverage. For example, awhile back a publicist named Ben Schmerler -- who occasionally sends me such invitations -- from First Press PR invited me to dine at a new restaurant called Back Forty. I went, my reactions were mixed (most reviews aren't "positive" or "negative" but, rather, contain both positive and negative elements), so I wrote a mixed report. I said some nice things and I said some not nice things, for example "green wheat (like bulgur) with mint and yogurt sauce unfortunately tasted like health food from the 1970s -- overly salty health food." The one eGullet Society member who posted about a meal there, Nathan, seemed to like the place better than I did -- and he paid. Now I'm pretty sure the owners of the restaurant didn't like reading what I wrote, but so what? I have no particular obligation to them, or to Ben Schmerler. I should note, however, that writing that sort of thing has never had the slightest impact on my relationship with Ben Schmerler. He still invites me to stuff on behalf of his clients, and while he knows I may write negative comments one day he also knows that another day I may love a restaurant and really get out there and champion the place (another of his clients, Toloache, is one of my favorite new restaurants and I've written very nice things about it both online and in print). Any experienced publicist knows that if you invite a bunch of writers to meals you're going to get some negative reactions. Indeed, I've had publicists thank me for making negative comments -- sometimes it turns out that the publicist has been trying to tell the client the same things and is glad for the media support. Some publicists try to argue with you, but it's no big deal -- if you're going to publish your writing you need to be prepared for people to argue with you. Once in a while (though not often), a chef or restaurateur also takes negative comments in stride -- but on the whole chefs and restaurateurs are not good at handling criticism no matter how constructive. Still, the most aggressive comments I've heard from chefs and restaurateurs have been no worse than what I hear all the time from members right here in eG Forums discussions. I think the most important point to be made about this issue is that it's a separate issue from the question of comps. Members of the press are recognized all the time, whether they're comped or not. We've had plenty of discussions of anonymity elsewhere, so I won't rehash those arguments here. Comps and non-anonymity are not, moreover, inextricably linked. For example, I have on my desk right now two invitations from restaurants that are in a form that allows anonymity to be preserved during the meal. These two restaurants have sent me what are essentially gift cards good for a free meal. The instructions are to come in, eat, then present the card as payment. I think that's a classy way to do it, but it isn't going to make me more or less likely to write nice things. Rogov, you began your post by describing the reality of the journalism business. I think, and I'm sure you agree, that we need to take it as a given that publications on the whole are never going to come up with the kinds of budgets needed to do ideal, anonymous, fully financed restaurant reviewing. So that's the baseline. We already know the ideal will never be achieved. So rather than sit around complaining about it, I think it makes the most sense to focus on how to work ethically within that system. My concern isn't that it's impossible or even difficult (compared to any other kind of journalism) to be honest when writing about a restaurant where you've received a comp. My concern is that there are naive, inexperienced writers out there who don't realize you're allowed to be honest in such a situation. We should be focusing on establishing guidelines for journalists who accept comps, explaining to them (and to restaurateurs and publicists) that there's no quid pro quo. That seems to me to be the only realistic approach, given that comps are here to stay.

I just finished a story for Crain's New York Business on wine bars, and given the business orientation of that publication I focused some research on business questions. After visiting a whole mess of New York City's wine bars and speaking to a dozen or so people in the industry, it's clear to me that wine bars are very much a part of the small-plates trend. Or, rather, they dovetail with that trend, because they're also about more than just small plates. The wine-bar boom is in part a product of the high costs of labor, real estate and ingredients. A wine bar can function in a narrow space without a full kitchen, with a small staff and using products and portion sizes that work out well economically. That business proposition works for several types of owners: newcomers who can't raise a lot of money (several owners told me they opened wine bars because they couldn't afford to open full-blown restaurants), restaurant groups that can use economies of scale (like preparing all the food for Terroir at Hearth), and luxury brands looking to capture some of the casual market (Adour, Bar Boulud, Le Cirque's new wine bar). In other words, it works for pretty much everyone. Zagat.com now lists 64 wine bars in New York City, though curiously it lists them in the nightlife survey not the restaurant survey.

Did you read the article? I'm guessing, based on your comments, that you didn't. The article isn't about food. It's about up-close-and-personal interaction with chefs. You get a heck of a lot more of that at Kitchen Counter than at, say, Degustation (which was included in the story). I think those who have dined at Kitchen Counter will testify that the experience is not akin to sitting at the pass at Hearth or at the chef's table at Cafe Gray or wherever. It's much more intimate than that, and it's unique. I don't think it's really possible to come away from Kitchen Counter and say "That was just like the experience at X." Clearly that reasoning (assuming for the moment that you're right) influences your personal choice of where to eat. But those aren't good criteria for determining 1- what makes food good, or 2- what makes the style of service relevant or not relevant to an article about that style of service. Waldy isn't cooking molecular/avant-garde food, and he's not doing much in the way of fusion. But the food at Kitchen Counter is delicious. Beacon has an oven that can do things Minibar, Schwa, and Ko just can't do. Waldy Malouf is not as celebrated as David Chang in the years 2007 and 2008 (nobody is) but he has a significant resume reaching back to the Hudson River Club and his 1995 "Hudson River Valley Cookbook." Waldy was a pioneer in the whole New York fresh, local, seasonal, sustainable movement, and he has a very high comfort level with the high-heat/bold-flavor style of cooking in play at Kitchen Counter. I don't think there's a finer example of that style available anywhere. It may not be your thing, but I think it's as worthy as anything being done at the more fashion-forward restaurants.

Do you have a citation for that? I saw a tiny mention in a Grub Street blog entry but don't recall seeing anything in the magazine.

http://forums.egullet.org/index.php?showtopic=113713

Was this expectation imposed by the publication, or did it come from you? In other words, did anybody actually say to you: "We require you to make repeat visits with multiple guests. But we're only paying you 1/4 of what that would cost. So you either need to get comped or pay out of your own pocket"? I'm asking this because I've heard variants of this complaint many times and, upon closer examination, it often turns out to be based more on assumptions and self-imposed restrictions than on actual instructions from editors. Regardless, in my opinion the solution in any situation like this is to have an explicit, public agreement and understanding with the publication. Within a wide range of possibilities, the specific nature of the agreement doesn't seem as important to me as having one. If the agreement is that you're only going to visit each restaurant once, that's fine. You can write about restaurants based on one visit. Frank Bruni does, Gael Greene does -- they just don't label such reports as "reviews." If you're going to visit restaurants once and write about them, your editors should be required to face up to and agree with that procedure, and your readers should be told, either through context or through a formally printed set of guidelines, that your comments are based on one visit -- and it probably makes sense to use a term other than "review" to describe what you're writing. Likewise, plenty of journalists across a variety of subject areas accept comps. But your editors should be involved in the decision to accept comps, and your writing should disclose those comps.

Waldy and his team did a Kitchen Counter dinner at the Beard House last night. I was pretty impressed with their ability to turn out a reasonable facsimile of the 12-course Kitchen Counter dinner using the equipment in the crap kitchen at the Beard House. They pulled it off through a combination of cleverness, determination and off-site prep. For example, they baked the shells for the pizzas in the stone oven at Beacon and drove them downtown, then added the toppings and finished them in a regular oven at the Beard House. They came out almost as well as pizzas at Beacon. You'd need to eat a lot of Beacon pizza to start noticing the minor differences. The way they configured the courses is that they started out with four passed hors d'oeuvres corresponding to the first four courses on the Kitchen Counter menu, then they did four plated pairs of courses -- in other words two different dishes on the plate. Here's the menu after it spent a night in my pocket: The appetizers were 1- fried tarragon lobster fritters with Sherry vinegar dipping sauce; 2- roasted oysters with verjus, shallots and herbs 3- suckling pig in mole on corn tortillas 4 - pizza with wild mushrooms, red onions and basil Here's Waldy preparing the suckling pig appetizer: And here's big Mike -- who couldn't even stand up straight in most of the kitchen because of the low clearance under the vents -- plating some fritters: For the plated courses we started with 5- asparagus with coddled egg and Parmigiano and 6- kabocha ravioli with butter, capers and sage. At the restaurant I recall they do the egg cracked over the asparagus and cooked in the stone oven, but I actually think coddling is a better approach because you can put stuff like butter and truffles in the coddling dish with the egg. Then we had 7- a seared scallop with cabbage, apple and jalapeno and 8- roasted salmon with wilted watercress and lemon. The last savory courses were 9- short ribs topped with foie gras on a bed of grits, and 10- marrow bones with garlic and horseradish. A few minutes before this course came out there was a minor epidemic of wheezing and coughing in the room, because Waldy was uncompromising in his desire to get the marrow bones broiled to a restaurant-quality crisp. I was really concerned that the fire department would show up before we got served the marrow bones, but somehow no alarms got tripped. Plus, the person to my left didn't eat her marrow bone and the person to my right didn't eat his marrow bone or the foie gras. So I felt obliged to offer assistance. Desserts were 11- apple pancake with caramel and cinnamon sorbet, and 12- chocolate cake with smoked vanilla ice cream. All in all a fun evening, and given the difficulty of getting reservations it was nice that 80 or so people got to experience the Kitchen Counter, or something close to it. It was also nice that I got two of Waldy's comp tickets to the event. In Waldy's brief comments at the end of the meal he mentioned that he knew James Beard and had dined at the Beard House when it actually was James Beard's house. He never saw James Beard shower, though -- or so he says. By the way, did anybody notice the story in Wednesday's New York Times titled "Your Waiter Tonight... Will Be the Chef"? It's primarily about Momofuku Ko in New York and Schwa in Chicago, and the focus is on the idea of close interaction between chefs and diners. No mention of Kitchen Counter, of course. The press blackout continues.

Okay, first things first: PR firms don't comp meals. Restaurants comp meals. PR firms just broker the comps by inviting journalists on behalf of restaurants. Second, there are a few variants of invitation you might get. For example, it could be pre-opening, it could be a dinner with the owner or publicist and several other members of the press, it could be that you're invited in to do some sort of seasonal menu preview, or it could be a straight comp where you go in and do everything like a normal customer except you don't pay. Third, every restaurant is different. Most union restaurants, hotel restaurants and restaurants that are part of big groups have, in my experience, a policy of "tipping out" their servers on comps. In other words, they print up a bill for the $150 or whatever that your meal would have cost, and the restaurant pays a percentage (16% or so from what I've heard) into the tip pool. Then the check is zeroed out as a comp. Most single-establishment restaurants, I've found, don't tip out their servers. Fourth, I ask. Specifically, I ask the server. "Is the restaurant taking care of you?" I'm pretty sure most of the time I get an honest answer. If not, too bad. Life is too short to worry about it. So taking that all into account here are a few scenarios and what I'd do: - Special events like pre-opening and formal press dinners: no tip - Restaurants where servers tell me they're being taken care of: a token gratuity like $20 - Restaurants where servers tell me they're not being taken care of: I leave a tip but the amount depends on the nature of the meal. There's one restaurant where I've been comped a couple of meals that would have cost easily in excess of $1,000 when taking the wine into account. As much as I'd like to tip $200 on a comped $1,000 meal, I'm just not that flush with cash -- my annual income is most likely lower than that of the servers in restaurants that serve meals at that level. So I max out at leaving a $100 bill on the table when the meal is a $500+ affair. Below that, I usually leave about 15-20% of what I thought the meal might have cost, though of course it's not always so easy to come to an exact conclusion. Ultimately, I feel that if you have the resources to be generous in this situation you should be generous, but I don't think you have a moral obligation to do so. I've discussed this issue with a few publicists, servers and restaurateurs over the years, and this is the best I've come up with.

The size of the restaurant doesn't prevent anything. I've already described how it would be a simple matter to have a preferred (or a couple of tiers of preferred) level of access for regulars. It's no big deal: if the restaurant has 24 covers, set 8 of them aside or whatever. (I'm not prescribing that number, I'm simply saying why I think you're wrong when you imply that it's impossible to use that system in an especially small restaurant). No, you can't guarantee that every request by every regular will be accommodated -- no restaurant can, for example, magically produce an eight-top on a Friday night with no warning.

Sure. He's entitled (there's that dirty word again) to select any lawful system of allocation. So there's no "can" part of the discussion. There's still a discussion to be had about the "should" and the "will" of it, though. Is it a good system, and will it be applied consistently in practice?