Fat Guy

Can somebody please explain to me in "for dummies" manner how it is that the pocket magically appears in pita when you bake them?

That's actually a hole in my theory: I imagine Bruni would have mentioned something like that, if he had been informed. So maybe I'm barking up the wrong tree here.

My money is on a third scenario: the Frank Bruni was not aware of Bouley's current project to improve itself when he made his visits and started writing his review, but that during follow-up research he spoke to David Bouley on the phone and David Bouley spoke of impending improvements. That is simply my theory as to the most likely scenario, based on how these reviews usually progress. And it would be totally in keeping with David Bouley's personality to say, "Come on, Frank, give me a couple of months here." I wonder if Chop has any additional insight he can share with us, without getting in trouble with the boss of course.

Agreed on all those points, Pan. Any writer or performer (or chef) needs to consider the audience -- that's so fundamental to writing and performance that to do otherwise puts you into a bizarre rarefied postmodern performance-art category that doesn't have any relevance to a discussion like this one. In newspaper criticism the main example of that would be changing your tone and assumptions based on your media outlet and audience: the same writer, hired to be a critic for the New York Times, the Daily News, or the Village Voice, is going to need to present three different facets of his craft, but all of course within the boundaries of being true to himself. At the same time, quality of criticism and quality of writing are as different as a performer's technical skills and his ability to capture the underlying music, or you could probably come up with a more fitting analogy. But being a good writer and a good critic, and maintaining your position of public trust with integrity, needs to be circumscribed and ultimately defined by overarching principles, otherwise it does lead to pandering and, worse, sensationalism. Liberace and Yanni are always going to be more popular and beloved by the public than any great classical musician, but that doesn't mean they're entitled to good reviews from serious music critics. Critics like A.A. Gill who behave outrageously are likely be more popular with the public than low-key critics like Bryan Miller, but Bryan Miller is the better critic. The public trust isn't really about the public; it's about truth and independence, or getting as close to those things as possible.

Robert: Bouley is number 5 in food rating in Zagat, ahead of Jean Georges and Alain Ducasse. It is number 12 on the favorites list. So I think its position with Zagat survey participants is somewhat secure. And certainly at this point Zagat is more important to most established restaurants' bottom lines than the New York Times because Zagat is reflective of what the customer base thinks, whereas a Times review is mostly helpful in bringing new customers. Still, there is no denying that there is some effect when a restaurant gets a demotion from the Times. Restaurants for the most part operate on thin margins. Even a shift of just a tiny percentage, such as the loss of one party of big-spending customers each day, can make a significant difference in a restaurant's profit picture. Marcus: If you read through code upon code of ethics-in-journalism guidelines (this is something I monitor with some frequency on Poynter and elsewhere), what you will mostly find is reference not (usually) to a specific duty to the public or the readers (although most newspapers do see themselves as in positions of "public trust") but, rather, a duty to "truth," "fairness," "integrity," "openness," "impartiality," or other similar concepts stated at a level of generality that places it above the concerns of any particular group. I think most reporters and critics do speak casually of their duty to the public, but by that they mean that the public is best served by the best possible reporting -- thus the question of serving the public is really just collapsed into the larger concerns of good journalism. And good journalism can mean telling the public what it doesn't want to hear, or in criticism it can mean fundamentally disagreeing with public tastes or otherwise serving truth and excellence without regard to what the public wants. Likewise, while it would be unacceptable to cater to any specific constituency, such as advertisers or restaurateurs, everyone must be treated fairly by reporters and critics. On one level that can be viewed as a balancing act -- as the Times ethics policy says "The goal of The New York Times is to cover the news as impartially as possible -- without fear or favor, in the words of Adolph Ochs, our patriarch -- and to treat readers, news sources, advertisers and others fairly and openly, and to be seen to be doing so." -- but I don't think it needs to be framed that way from the writer's perspective. Questions of balancing the obligations of fairness to different constituencies mostly fade away when you focus on commitment to higher principles of journalism.

Yes, this is the key point. The newspaper reviewer, for whatever discipline, is only responsible to the public. Worrying about impact on the industry, advertizers, or other parties with a business interest is a slippery slope that, in my opinion, should never be contemplated. Likewise, saying the critic is purely responsible to the public is a slippery slope that leads to lowest-common-denominator pandering. The way I see it, a critic isn't responsible to the readers or anybody else at all. The critic is not the newspaper's equivalent of the city's Public Advocate or the paper's Reader's Editor. Rather, the critic, as a critic, is responsible to the cause of excellence in his field and, as a journalist, is responsible to the cause of excellent journalism as circumscribed by the somewhat different mission a critic has from a news reporter. So I don't really see a critic as having direct obligations to the public, the paper, the restaurant industry, etc. The commitment to excellence dictates everything else.

I see a lot of parallels here to the world of haute couture fashion. Cakes like these are demonstrations of excellence in artistry within their realm and are, like haute couture fashion, partly about selling the dream. Very few people will ever have a cake like one of these, but we can watch the fashion show and be inspired by the art of the possible. We can learn to appreciate the outer limits while we make our own pret-a-porter cupcake trees.

Bouley does offer excellent value, which is not the same as saying the tasting menu costs less than at the other restaurants in its league -- rather, the point is that you get a lot of excellence and expertise for what you pay. But a four-star rating isn't about value or price. Still, both are always worth highlighting in a review to the extent they vary from the norm, whether the number of stars being awarded is four, three, two, one, or zero. There are plenty of things worth mentioning in reviews that don't ultimately impact the star rating. One of many things that might have been worth mentioning vis-a-vis Bouley's uniqueness, in addition to David Bouley's now-former status as last-remaining American-born four-star chef, is the mening of the restaurant's location in terms of factors other than the Red Cross "scandal." All the other four-star restaurants are in or near Midtown. Bouley, even more so than the formerly four-star Chanterelle, has always been a different kind of four-star restaurant: less formal, more relaxed, less expensive, more approachable, less opulent. As William Grimes explained Bouley Bakery, "Bouley Bakery retains the feel of a small neighborhood restaurant. Diners feel comfortable showing up in shirtsleeves, and the staff shrewdly maintains a delicate balance between informality and the more disciplined level of service implicit in the food and decor." This kind of four-star informality dovetails with comments Amanda Hesser made in one of the only good things she wrote during her interim critic stint, the "No Tablecloth? This Is Fine Dining?" piece. So I think expectations regarding the formal-restaurant-service model need to be somewhat modified with respect to a venture that is simultaneously trying to be a four-star restaurant yet maintain a cultural and attitudinal attachment to its own location. Likewise, I think the real story with respect to 9/11 is not the Red Cross story but the economic one that persists to this day. There are still something like 60,000 office workers who are no longer working in the Ground Zero area. Despite some remarkable recoveries by local businesses, the economic strain continues. Bouley has been struggling against this reality now for almost three years -- there is no option to raise prices -- and now of course with the loss of a star there will be additional economic pressure. Not that such economic factors would ever justify giving a restaurant a higher rating than it deserves. But what they might justify is forbearance on a re-review, especially if it can be established that the restaurant is in the process of righting itself. In Bouley's case, the word on the street for months now has been that David Bouley is well aware of the restaurant's vulnerability and has been hauling ass to bring on additional staff and push for higher performance. So while the three-star rating as of today is not likely to be subject to much debate, the decision to review the restaurant at this time on a snapshot basis -- and I think as a means to an end (which may be okay when you're reaffirming ratings but not when you're demoting a restaurant) -- is one I'd have considered not making. I'd probably have waited a couple of months, revisited a couple of times, and looked for some improvement. If the restaurant was trending upwards I'd continue to hold off on the review. Does anybody here know David Bouley personally? Or have you overheard him in a conversation ever? I can just imagine him on the phone with Frank Bruni, "What do you want me to do, Frank? Pull a four-star restaurant out of my ass with no money?"

Just catching up on some reading tonight and saw the article, which I thought was terrific. My only question is who's the other person in the conspiracy against Paula?

I did a double take when I saw Steve Klc's cake, because last night I was bored and decided to bake myself a cake and it came out just like his. But seriously folks, Duff's cake(s) give(s) me an idea: we're throwing a small birthday party for a friend tomorrow afternoon and I think I'm going to engineer something along the lines of a cupcake "tree." I just have to find something I can use as a support structure. And I have to figure out a way to support the cupcakes such that they can accommodate some candles.

Whether or not it was necessary, I felt he was cordial about it. Sorry, I couldn't help myself. Back to the topic. Love,

I do hope that's the happy ending in all this. I have no fundamental problem with the three-star ranking -- I could go either way depending on the points of emphasis. I just think Frank Bruni comes to it from the wrong direction.

Sounds like somebody is going to start requiring credit card numbers with reservations soon!

Everybody who is invested in good food in the United States is invested in Bouley, voluntarily or not. We're not talking about some schmuck with an irrelevant little restaurant on a hard-to-find block in TriBeCa. We're talking about the only American-born four-star chef as of this Tuesday, and one of the most talented cuisiniers on these shores. And while Ducasse and Keller have certainly raised the bar in terms of luxury, Bouley was raising the bar before Ducasse had his Michelin stars and when Thomas Keller was slinking out of New York, tail between his legs, after the failure of Rakel and before the idea for the French Laundry even existed. He has cooked and can cook at the Ducasse and Keller level -- or, more accurately, at the Joel Robuchon level (among his other mentors are Roger Verge, Paul Bocuse, Gaston Lenotre, and Fredy Girardet) -- and his cuisine has a personal, manic edge to it that has made many in my generation and the previous generation of critics and customers swoon. I think if you asked the current fraternity of four-star chefs whether Bouley is a member of that group, every one of them would issue forth with a resounding yes. And I think there's little question that the whole idea of morphing Bouley Bakery back into Bouley was to bring the physical plant up to four-star standards (the kitchen was always intended to be there). Now, if his restaurant doesn't deserve four stars, it doesn't deserve four stars. Were I in the position of awarding stars, maybe I'd also be issuing a demotion. Or maybe I'd never have given Bouley Bakery four stars in the first place. But I'd feel compelled to approach Bouley from a certain direction, a direction that I don't think Frank Bruni has any sense of. Just because you miss the party doesn't mean you can't try to understand what transpired there. I missed Woodstock, but I can understand why it was important.

There's plenty of getting-on to go around!

One other thing that's curious is the length of the review. Less than 1000 words. Usually the four-star reviews and even the four-to-three-star demotions get 1200 -1300 or more words. Not to obsess too much about word count, but 300 extra words would have allowed more commentary on the food and on Bouley's standing in the chef community (and why).

I didn't detect any sort of vendetta. It struck me more as a bit insecure and defensive. I was turned off right away by the lead-in paragraphs, which amounted to "I've been a few times but I'm missing the point of this place." Well, I think given the historical context if that's your feeling then you should take some more time to try to get the point. I haven't done a full-on multiple-visits analysis of Bouley since 2001, when I wrote the following for the dearly departed EdificeRex.com site, but here's how I felt about the restaurant then, and how I still feel based on later visits. Actually when I look at some of the indelicate writing in my own review I feel a little worse about being so critical of Frank Bruni, but hey, he's the Times reviewer. He gets no slack.

Bux, one additional piece of context on the Bouley/Red-Cross issue: it's true that many, many restaurants and institutions opened up their kitchens to provide food for the relief workers, but that was mostly in the short term. Bouley took on a much more significant and long-term burden of feeding the crews for much of the duration of the cleanup. You can find some of the statistics in the Observer piece. The thing is, none of this was explored in the Frank Bruni review. There was just that little damning hint of a crisis of morality. It seems to me that, if there is a story to be told that is truly relevant to Bouley today, it has to do with Bouley's relationships with suppliers. All those lawsuits and collections . . . is he currently able to get the best products or not? And for that matter, is he able to attract the best employees? If the answer to each question is yes, it would seem to negate the comments Frank Bruni chose to present. If the answer to either question is no, it would have been important to say so.

A worthwhile precedent to examine is William Grimes's demotion review of Chanterelle. I think it does a better job of striking the balance between explaining the demotion and still making the restaurant seem appealing. It is written in a spirit of generosity and deference that is sorely missing from Frank Bruni's review of Bouley. I also happen to think that Grimes was totally on target with the review, but even if I disagreed with it I'd say it was a compelling bit of reading.

Le Cirque managed to lose and gain four stars on at least two occasions, or maybe three. I can't get that deep into the Times archive without paying money, but I know it was both demoted and promoted by Ruth Reichl (within the space of maybe a year?) and I know it was demoted by Mimi Sheraton and promoted maybe either by her or by the next critic? Bouley was sort of demoted when Bouley Bakery opened and Ruth Reichl gave it three stars, then later William Grimes gave it four stars -- that was maybe two years lag? Daniel was demoted when it moved: William Grimes dropped it to three stars, then it picked up four. Daniel had also been ranked at three stars by Marian Burros when it first opened, which was a bit like a demotion because Daniel Boulud had been a four-star chef at Le Cirque, and was later picked up to four stars by Ruth Reichl. Sorry I don't have the facts better organized here.

When a restaurant first opens, the only data points available for a review are the multiple early visits. This is how most restaurant reviews are hatched. Once in awhile, though, a reviewer goes back and re-reviews a restaurant that has become an institution. At that point, the restaurant has been operating as part of the dining culture for many years, possibly decades, and a snapshot of a few visits in the space of a few weeks doesn't tell the story of the restaurant. Obviously, it's impossible to have reviewers in place who have been dining at every old-timer restaurant for decades, but I do think the reviewer needs to take on a sense of responsibility when revisiting the city's iconic restaurants, especially when there is a possibility of a demotion. A lot of people -- me included -- felt that Amanda Hesser's demotion of Montrachet was written from the perspective of someone who didn't take the time to understand the restaurant. As with the demotion of Bouley, I have no fundamental sense of outrage over the demotion of Montrachet, but in both cases I felt the reviews themselves did everybody -- the public, the critic, the restaurant, and the enterprise of fine dining -- a disservice by failing to capture the essence of the restaurant. And while Frank Bruni is not an interim critic, this is nonetheless only his third review, whereas it is something like Bouley's 17th year as a four-star restaurant. I don't think the Times reviewer, or anyone else, needs to be a slave to stare decisis, but such a lopsided equation gives me pause, especially in light of what appeared to be a blindered review that only scratched the surface of the Bouley phenomenon.

My notes on Ambroisie from, I don't know, maybe 1997 or 1998? I'm not proud of the writing -- this is a very early effort by me -- but the substance still feels right to me: +++ One of the most painful things I ever had to do in my life was cancel my reservations at l'Arpege and Taillevent in Paris. Unfortunately, last-minute itinerary changes and idiosyncratic French hours of operation made it impossible for me to try either restaurant. After lunch at l'Ambroisie, however, I felt much better. It was one of the best meals of my entire life. I cannot count how many times I have been told, enthusiastically, that various chefs at various restaurants "let the ingredients speak for themselves." I have invariably been disappointed by the resultant meals. My meal at l'Ambroisie was therefore a complete surprise: This is some of the most minimalist, yet finest, cuisine I have ever experienced. Each ingredient tastes as though a stubborn little old lady went to the market that morning and fought for the best produce available. Combined with a cozy (38 seats in two rooms), beautiful (tapestries and tile floors) dining area and perfect service, this meal was hard to beat. Even the china is understated. All over France, the plates scream with multi-colored patterns. Here, there is nothing but a silver band around the edge. Silver and white are the only colors on your table against which to view the food and wine. Napkins are so heavily starched you have to be careful not to poke your eye out. There is no tasting menu, just a one-page list of a la carte items and a couple of daily specials. We begin with a single lobster raviole, compliments of the house. It is simply lobster in a pasta shell with a drizzle of cream and a few drops of lobster stock. It does not look like much, but the flavors are incredible. Due to eating dozens of mediocre and overcooked examples over the years, I had forgotten how good a plain old piece of lobster can be. Next, I get a plate of tender langoustines served between two sesame wafers on a bed of spinach, surrounded by a mild curry sauce. Again, the dish shocks me with the inherent flavor of the ingredients, which are perfectly offset by the modest curry and spinach. To call the dish "light" would be a misnomer. It is, rather, ethereal. Ellen has three filets of rouget served with paper-thin slices of cumin-scented baby carrots and an herbal oil emulsion. Again, the perfection of the fish is just slightly enhanced by the low-key accompaniments. For the main event, we switch gears and see what the chef can do with beef. A two-inch thick T-bone is carved for two people: A triangular wedge of the tenderloin and a rectangular slab of bloody sirloin with a simple sauce of the juices from the meat. Also on the plate: A cylindrical bone (reminiscent of Yellowstone's geological formations) filled with marrow and black truffle puree. On the side, little discs of potato arranged in a spiral and sauteed, with a few slices of black truffle thrown in for good measure. The steak is meaty and full of beef flavor. This is not a cut-with-your-fork tender steak. It is a real, firm, authoritative steak, the only one we tried in all of France that would be worthy of Peter Luger (one of the only restaurants that can claim to be more minimalist than l'Ambroisie--I would love to take the chef to Brooklyn some day to get his reaction). We bid farewell to our steak and receive tiny bowls of sweet strawberries served in a little mango juice. Each bite is invigorating and, again, we remember just how great these simple ingredients can be. Desserts live up to all our expectations: They are impossibly delicate and fluffy, but not at all precious. The bittersweet chocolate tart is a fleeting bit of creamy, dark chocolate, while the Napoleon is the vanilla mirror-image. Even the petit fours are special, with a generous portion of gumball-sized pure chocolate truffles. We finish the first ten and the waiter brings us more. The wine list is excellent, with many, many bottles from the great years of the 1980s. Although the wine list is expensive at the bottom of the range, it evens out in the middle and the top. Whereas most restaurants offer cheap selections from the past couple of years and become unreasonable with the pre-1990 bottles, l'Ambroisie has, for example, Louis Latour Corton Grancey 1982 in half-bottles for about $50. Although not cheap, this turns out to be the perfect wine for our steak and is even more appropriate in light of our visit to Corton Grancey a week before (demonstrating the importance of intangibles in the enjoyment of wine). A solid 1990 Chassagne-Montrachet is equally priced. The sommelier is the consummate professional, although his job is made easier by such a good cellar. The restaurant engages in the quaint practice of having the sommelier nose each bottle for you before pouring (i.e., he pours a little bit in a glass for himself and sniffs repeatedly to make sure it is ok). I doubt anybody gets a corked bottle at l'Ambroisie. Service is the best we have seen in France. Nothing escapes the watchful eyes of the staff, although they are not the slightest bit intrusive. No glass, bread plate or butter dish ever goes empty. Waiters unconsciously straighten things on the table even while conversing with you--a sure sign of greatness in restaurant service. And you do not need to know a single word of French to eat here. The average waiter at l'Ambroisie speaks better English than the average waiter in New York. Although a bit more formal and less engaging than the waiters in the countryside, these guys are very nice, as are the sommelier, the maitre d' and the hostess who, I believe, is the chef's wife. Just when we thought there was no room for improvement, we learned that during our meal we had entirely missed a torrential downpour (there are no windows at the restaurant). l'Ambroisie is not cheap. The aforementioned meal cost around $350, but an examination of three-star Paris restaurant prices will show that this is the industry standard. At least at l'Ambroisie you get what you pay for. And did I mention Sharon Stone at the next table? +++

I think I might feel somewhat more optimistic if I saw a way out for David Bouley and his team. It sounds to me as though Frank Bruni may just not like David Bouley's style of cooking, such that even if David Bouley eliminates all the flaws specifically cited by Frank Bruni, there is no clear way for him to earn back that lost star. One of the things I felt with William Grimes's three-star reviews of Daniel and Ducasse was that, at least, right or wrong, one could see a light at the end of the tunnel. I certainly hope David Bouley takes this review as a wake-up call, because the restaurant has been perennially fucked up and needs to be reined in, but I wonder if he has any four-star exit strategy while Frank Bruni is in office. We shall see, I guess. Everybody likes a happy ending; let's hope we get one in '05.

I'm more of a has-been semi-retired amateur reviewer than a reviewer per se, but that won't stop me from giving an opinion. I'm in favor of presenting factual historical context in restaurant reviews. I just think the facts need to be deployed in less of a self-fulfilling, undermining manner. Certainly, it would have been just as much of a blunder to leave it all out. I'm reminded of Eric Asimov's review of David Ruggerio's restaurant, Rouge, which Asimov wrote while sitting in for Grimes during his mysterious absence. I think Asimov was torn about how to handle Ruggerio's criminal record (not to mention the devastating and compelling plagiarism charges against Ruggerio that Mimi Sheraton documented) and ultimately settled on the most generous possible presentation. I think he had to include it, and at the level of language it is only subtly different from the way Frank Bruni presented Bouley's record, but the tonal difference is nonetheless significant. I get no sense that Asimov is using Ruggerio's past against him. As for aaustin and others' comments that the review reads like a one- or two-star review, well, yes. The dishes that Frank Bruni seems to think (from context) are four-star dishes are described in a most unenthusiastic manner. Then again, I don't think one can or should ignore context. We know we're talking about demoting a four-star to three stars. The review is quite self-conscious on that point, probably more so than it should be. But no matter what, that is the context and everything needs to be read in light of it.

I think there are two issues with respect to the cuisine: the context issue and the issue of the current analysis. We discussed on another thread the question of snapshots versus analyses over time. My opinion, and I think oakapple was on the same page, is that when you review a four-star restaurant that has been a going concern for years (and in Bouley's case, in various incarnations since 1987), you have an obligation to take more than a snapshot of a few meals consumed in the space of a few weeks. Surely, Frank Bruni had more meals at Bouley in the past month or two than I've had in the past two or three years -- there are very few people who can rival the Times critic for short-term depth-of-snapshot. But the whole late-to-the-party analysis saddens me, because I feel as though Frank Bruni (as well as the many thousands of people who will only ever know Bouley through this review) never really experienced the restaurant in all its glory -- never experienced the Bouley that made the grouchy William Grimes explode in an atypical Meg Ryan-esque ejaculation of "yes, yes, yes!" and never experienced the Bouley-as-clusterfuck rock-bottom experiences that most of us who have dined at Bouley over time have eventually stumbled across. The restaurant in many ways reflects the mood swings of a brilliant but temperamental chef, and it sounds like Frank Bruni caught the pendulum in atypical mid-swing. Even taking 4-6 months to make a few more visits to Bouley and the other top places should have revealed this. As for the current analysis, it sounds as though even the dishes that were on target didn't excite him, and that to me indicates that we may be dealing with somebody who just doesn't love or get contemporary haute cuisine. I'll be interested to see the review of Per Se, because it will give a reference point that will help when reading the Bouley review, but for now this review feels a bit directionless.