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In today's New York Post restaurant column, Zagat Seeing Stars, Steve Cuozzo talks about next month's arrival of the New York Michelin guide. He hopes that Michelin will knock the 2006 Zagat guide (which debuts next week) out of its complacency. The Michelin Guide will cover 500 restaurants, to Zagat's 1,700. Of course, Zagat covers Per Se and Starbucks as if they were comparable, while one presumes the Michelin Guide will be limited to upper-echelon restaurants. Still, Cuozzo assures us that Michelin won't be as elitist as its European counterparts: It's easy to poke fun at Zagat. Says Cuozzo, "Weary haunts like Felidia – even Lombardi's pizza – are preposterously ranked among today's best." But all forms of restaurant media are open to mistakes. Just a few weeks ago, as he declared the end of the restaurant review as we know it, Cuozzo listed a few of his own howlers. Cuozzo admitted the Zagat guide has its uses, although he's hopeful that "Michelin – spiffily retooled and redesigned for the New York market – finally offers a real alternative." No word yet on which restaurants have won the coveted stars. Mario Batali is confident that there will be at least some three-star restaurants in New York. As he told the UK Observer last week, "'If there were no three-stars, Michelin wouldn't come."

Mr. Bruni is on vacation for two weeks. This week's review of Ben & Jack's Steakhouse is by Marian Burros. Burros's food writing is far superior to Bruni's, but she seems to have succumbed to Mr. Bruni's grade inflation, or the "BruniCurve" as Eater calls it. Given the ample availability of strong steakhouses in Manhattan, it's hard to see how this place deserved a star, given all of the problems recounted in the review. But here again is ample evidence that the Times's anonymity policy works. A few people here cling to the belief that anonymity is a fiction. Yet, from the many service glitches that Ms. Burros experienced, it's clear in the review that she was not recognized on at least some (if not all) of her visits. The review notes that the restaurant fawned over its celebrity guests, and unless the place is run by idiots, they almost certainly would have done the same for Ms. Burros had they realized who she was.

I had dinner last night at Hearth with two collegues. I ordered: FOIE GRAS TORCHON ($18) with Endive, Mission Figs, and Brioche Toast STEAMED BLACK BASS ($27) Heirloom Tomatoes, Leeks and Fine Herbs I know that Hearth has a lot of fans on this board, but I found both dishes underwhelming. The foie gras was extremely bland (I enjoyed the toast more), and the bass practically devoid of taste. The bread service was also a disappointment (tasted stale; the butter wasn't spreadable). My colleagues did enjoy their meals, so perhaps I just ordered the wrong things.

Let us accept arguendo that critics are recognized nearly every time, even where they maintain the pretense of anonymity. (I am not yet persuaded this is true, but I shall accept it for argument's sake.) This does not necessarily mean that the opposite extreme—constant schmoozing and ingratiating with the very people you're purportedly critiquing—produces objective criticism. I stand second to nobody in my enjoyment of FG's reviews on eGullet. But do I believe he is describing an experience I could ever have with my own money? Most of the time, I do not think so. His recent blow-out dinner at ADNY (see the New York board) is a case in point. No one but FG (or a handful of other people similarly situated) could have that dinner. Do I enjoy reading his reports? Yes. Do I believe that FG is reporting objectively, when it's obvious he's been heavily comped? Well, notwithstanding his skill and knowledge, I have to be at least a little bit skeptical.

Peter Luger (Frank Bruni) ← Andrea Strong reviews Luger's burgers this week. Her conclusion is almost identical to Bruni's: they are seriously overrated. It's a particularly noteworthy conclusion coming from Strong, who hardly ever pans a restaurant.

Well, no. Cuozzo doesn't say that every restaurant should be re-reviewed every month or two—which is obviously impossible. What he says, is that there's no assurance that a review will remain valid for any particular amount of time. You've got places like Gotham Bar & Grill that have remained consistently great for many years, and places like V Steakhouse that went into a swoon almost immediately after it opened. Even under Cuozzo's new system, he's got one reviewing slot per week, and he won't be able to keep track of every twitch & turn at every important restaurant in town. And it's not yet clear that this new system is any radical improvement. Gothamist was underwhelmed. Why should he have said that? Bruni's whole point was that Nobu, in fact, has faded a bit, and Nobu 57 is now a superior version of the concept. Whether Nobu has faded enough that it would no longer merit three stars is a question Bruni never gets to, but he certainly does not say that they are the same.

I'm still wondering. ← Well, in fact it was also reviewed this week in New York. Adam Platt was less impressed with it than Bruni.

Well, major restaurants get re-reviewed every once in a while. Nobu hasn't been reviewed in the Times since the Reichl era, and this was as much a re-review of Nobu as it was a new review of Nobu 57. I mean, if one took the above quote to its logical conclusion, no restaurant would ever be re-reviewed. I haven't counted, but I'd say Bruni does about one rated re-review every two months, or about six of them a year.

The rest of his comments (e.g., "epic waits for dishes and sloppy applications of dressings") strongly suggest he was not recognized on this occasion. We can't prove it, but it's the likely case. In that article, I couldn't find a single reason why the newspaper reader will be better off if he trumpets his arrival at each restaurant he visits. If that's what he has in mind (which he did not say), the last remnants of critical distance will be obliterated. I'm sure he's responsible enough to at least attempt to duplicate the experience the typical diner would have. The point he makes that I strongly agree with, is that point-in-time reviews are ephemeral, and there needs to be a better way to keep critical opinion updated. In the traditional system, a major restaurant goes many years before it is re-reviewed, and a minor restaurant will probably never be re-reviewed. What will be the value of Frank Bruni's review of Perry St (assuming it had any value to begin with) a year from now, after JGV is no longer personally spending so much of his time there?

I walked by Ninja yesterday at about 5:30pm, just to see what the outside looks like. Well, there's nothing there; not even a ninja standing otuside to greet you. In a small window to the right of the door, which you could easily miss, three of the tasting menus are posted inconspicuously ($80, $100, and $150). No mention of a la carte. While I was perusing the menu, a couple walked back and forth along the expanse of Hudson between Duane and Reade, before asking a police officer, "Where's the restuarant Ninja?" I speak up and tell them I've found it. They say, "Thank heavens you spoke up, or we would have been lost." It turned out the man is good friends with the owner, and he sourced the magician who taught the staff how to do the tricks referred to in the review upthread.

In today's three-star review of Nobu 57, Frank Bruni turns in one of his better performances. Bruni seems to realize that when he's awarding three stars, a serious review is called for, and usually he delivers. Whether Nobu 57 actually deserves three stars is a matter that will be much debated, but at least this review makes the case intelligibly. The review also demonstrates why critic anonymity isn't such a bad thing: Suppose he'd said, "Hi, this is Frank Bruni of the New York Times, and I'd like to make a reservation." Anyone want to take bets whether he would have had the same experience? By the way, I myself have been told at Nobu, on more than one occasion, that I would have to vacate my table by a certain time. Evidently it's standard procedure there.

I think it's a real stretch to call DB&D a steakhouse. Burke will offer you a steak, but so will many restaurants. It's not the dominant item on the menu. Even ADNY offers an aged ribeye.

The issue here is that, even within the context of an imprecise system, Bruni is taking it to a new level of irrationality. For instance, uniquely among restaurant critics, Frank is lampooned weekly on a blog (here), which is "predicated on the suggestion that every Wednesday, in the Times Dining Out section, Frank lays a huge faberge egg of hilarity." Eater refers to the "BruniCurve™," which is basically the idea that Bruni dines on happy sauce, and then hands out stars as if they were candy.

...and... It's consistent with my hypothesis that Frank has done his worst damage at the two-star level. There are hundreds of restaurants that are at least arguably one star (many of which will never be reviewed), so I can't complain there. And Bruni has been fairly stingy with giving out three stars, as he should be. But to Frank, two stars seems merely to mean, "not bad." I also agree with Soba that Chinatown has many restaurants of approximately this calibre, most of which have never been formally reviewed, so why single out this particular restaurant?

I haven't been to a restaurant like this, but in general restaurants in Tokyo are very expensive compared to their New York counterparts.

Frank's writing continues to be ridiculously overwrought, but reviewing two restaurants in the same column was a welcome innovation. For restaurants in the 1-2 star category, it might be a sensible way to get more mileage out of the year's 52 rated reviews.

What happens when you cross three-star food with the service and ambiance of a diner at Grand Central Station? Upstairs is the answer. I persuaded a friend to join me there yesterday evening. We misjudged our arrival time: at 6:45pm, all of the restaurant's indoor and outdoor tables had just filled up. It's all very frenzied. "Find a table outside, if you can," the host du jour advised. When none was available, he reluctantly took our name. There is nowhere to wait—no bar, no lounge. We were advised we could hang out in the bakery, or take our chances and go elsewhere for a drink. (If you're not back when he calls your name, you're outa luck.) Luckily, we timed it perfectly, arriving back at the restaurant just a few minutes before a table freed up. Once inside, a tighter fit is harder to imagine. Some people's master bedrooms are larger than this restaurant. We felt rather lucky to have a corner table, which was cramped like everything else, but at least meant that we had the din coming at us from two directions, instead of four. So tightly were we packed in, that our server had to lean over the backs of two other diners' chairs to speak to us. My friend and I both ordered the halibut that Frank Bruni raved about. This was uncommonly good, among the top 2-3 fish entrées I've enjoyed in New York, at any level of dining. Bouley himself was not in the restaurant, but his team is clearly knows what he wants. Service was generally acceptable until after we finished the halibut. We waited and waited for our server to come back, before we finally caught her attention to get our check.

This may be a bit unjust. Restaurants like Per Se can't open every day — the economy can't sustain them. Overall, the 2005-06 season is shapes up to be about as busy a restuarant-opening year as there has been for some time. With new high-end entries coming from Charlie Trotter, Gordon Ramsay, and Mario Batali, one can hardly say that the era of high-class dining has ended. That quibble aside, Robert, if you'd like to review New York restaurants professionally, there's hope the New York Times may soon have a vacancy.

Yes, that is an unfortunate limitation of Babbo. I've ordered tasting menus by myself at a number of other restaurants at Babbo's price point, so I think they could get with it. The rule applies whether you order the pasta tasting menu or the general tasting menu. Babbo's tasting menus are popular, so I suspect during peak hours they're always making mulitples of everything. You'd think they could figure out a way to do this. Babbo is full every night, so the day of the week doesn't matter much. If you show up early in the evening, you'll either have no wait, or not much of a wait.

If you assume that Bruni stands by his three-star rating of the upscale Bouley across the street, it's hard to see how Upstairs could be three stars. By the way, the well-connected Eater seemed to know in advance that this review was coming, as indicated in this post on Monday.

Haven't tried the latter, but that looks like another culinary adventure!

Imagine if they did put that blurb on the menu. Can't you see someone arguing with teh GM over their right to tip 15%? "How dare you tell me how much money to give your waiters." ← I was referring to the website. I haven't been there since the changeover, but I'm sure that the restaurant menu makes clear, as they do in Europe, that service is included. I was also responding to the person who said, "Those prices seem to be getting steeper by the month." This is not the case.

Indeed they do not. A vendor suggested dinner last night, and I said my preference was a steakhouse. I grimaced when he suggested the Capital Grille, as I presumed Manhattan has much better to offer. However, he was buying, so I kept my thoughts to myself and trudged uptown. A wet-aged Delmonico (bone-in rib-eye) was done to the medium rare that I'd asked for, but as Frank Bruni put it, "lacking the kind of crisp, charred exterior that would have given the flesh more variation from edge to center." A smoked salmon appetizer and creamed spinach side dish were competently executed, but unmemorable. I should add that all three of my companions ordered fillets, which appeared to have the charred exterior that my rib-eye lacked. Capital Grille has a slightly updated version of the classic steakhouse décor (mahogony surfaces, oil paintings). Service was slightly superior to the average steakhouse, including a genial waiter who explained the menu in considerable detail. The restaurant put us in a booth, and for four businessmen it was a bit cramped. Having said all that, Capital Grille illustrates the maxim that it's awfully tough for a steakhouse to fail in Manhattan. Despite executing the steakhouse formula with no particular distinction, the place was packed.

I took a friend to Annisa on Friday night for her 40th birthday. It's a sweet-looking room. We were seated side-by-side on a banquette, which was an intimate twist on the usual arrangement. The reviews upthread are extremely detailed, and there's not a whole lot I can add. The Seared Foie Gras with Soup Dumplings and Jicama appetizer has been on the menu from the beginning. William Grimes loved the dish when he awarded two stars, and I guess the restaurant doesn't want to fiddle with success. Then again, when an appetizer is this good, why should they? For the main dish, I tried the Miso Marinated Sable with Crispy Silken Tofu in Bonito Broth, another dish Grimes loved. I suppose I should have trusted my instincts, as I've never been a tofu lover. The dish was beautifully prepared, but somehow it just didn't seem like tofu and sable go together. This item, like the foie gras, has been on the menu from the beginning, so I must be in the minority. Mind you, we had a wonderful time, especially my friend, and I can see why Annisa has garnered so many plaudits. In my book, it certainly ranks at the high end of two stars.

Well, I can think of at least two reasons. First is that the review isn't for the regulars. After all, they've already decided they like the place, and don't care what the critic says. It's the non-regulars who might conceivably make a dining decision based on what the review says. Second is that non-regulars surely comprise a significant percentage of the dining audience, and the review shouldn't disenfranchise them. At restaurants that know a review is coming, he is probably recognized every time. I doubt that Bruni truly ever had an "anonymous" meal at Perry St, The Modern, or Alto. At Le Bernardin, Daniel, and Jean-Georges, and a few other places of that ilk, he will be recognized instantly. But take another look at the range of places he visits. A fair number of them are non-high-end places that have no particular reason to expect him. Sure, if he shows up with large groups four times within a month, the restaurant will catch on by the second or third visit. But at least he's had some opportunity to experience the restaurant as the ordinary diner would. Newspaper reviews recount a fair number of service glitches that, I am reasonably sure, wouldn't have occurred had the critic trumpeted his presence. And I think Asimov had a good point in his eGullet Q&A. Even where he is recognized, the pretense of anonymity creates a useful barrier; otherwise the chefs would feel obligated to schmooze and send out freebies.