Foodie
When it comes to slicing and dicing, restaurant critics seem to be better at their particular field -- writing with more emotion, using more elegant phrasings -- than many film critics are at panning movies. More fun to read, at least. One reason is that restaurant critics are a lot more Anthony Lane-ish than, say, Kenny Turanny or Mick LaSalle-like. The better ones put forth a mixture of effete snobbery and saying it plain and straight (like Alan Ladd's Shane dialogue), describing their run-ins like a good sports writer or war correspondent but with slight sprinklings of haute.
Lower Manhattan's Ago
I was thinking this over yesterday as I read three withering reviews of the downtown Manhattan branch of Ago, which opened early last month. I read them because the West Hollywood Ago, which has been around for a good ten years or so, is only three blocks from where I live, and because I've eaten there two or three times and had....well, a pretty good time.
This is the place, remember, where Quentin Tarantino and Don Murphy had their celebrated lunchtime fisticuffs, or rather where Tarantino went all Mike Tyson on Murphy and Murphy (if I recall the news accounts) did a Muhammad Ali rope-a-dope.
In any event, N.Y. Times critic Frank Bruni despises the Manhattan Ago for not being "in the hospitality business [as much as] the attitude business, projecting an aloofness that permeated all of my meals there, nights of wine and poses for swingers on the make, cougars on the prowl and anyone else who values a sort of facile fabulousness over competent service or a breaded veal Milanese with any discernible meat."
He begins by describing himself and a friend waiting at the bar from an 8:30 p.m. reservation that wasn't ready by 8:51, "when the great wave of white wine crashed over [the bar].
"I'm talking about the Poseidon Adventure of wine spills. Shelley Winters could have done the backstroke in it. I'm not sure how the bartender set it in motion, and neither was he. He kept marveling at its fury and aftermath: my friend's wine-splashed chin, her wine-soaked skirt, her wine-sopped entirety."
ditto
GQ's Alan Richman wrote last month of a meal for four at Ago, which didn't begin until 10 pm due to the crowds. "At 11:45 p.m., having spent exactly $100 per person, tip not included, on food and a single bottle of wine, my friends sat stunned. They are both restaurateurs from the South, and they couldn't believe dining in New York had come to this."
Then the waiters started in on standard search-and-destroy procedures -- i.e., grabbing everything they can off a table in order to scoot the customer out so they can close up. Boom! -- a water glass snatched. Wham! -- a candle taken away. "We took the hint and got up to leave," Richman writes. "At that point service improved markedly. The maitre d' ran outside to flag down a cab, anxious to see us on our way."
In a 7.7. piece, The New Yorker's Lauren Collins called Ago "the most cynical Californian export since Euro Disney." She saw it as lacking in class. She complained about its "lurid cocktails" (a blue Martini that "isn't fit for a Smurf") and exhibitionist patrons (i.e., "a couple [making] out with an athleticism, and a sense of privacy, more often associated with sandy beaches on desert islands").
I can relate to this. I was once kicked out of a bar for making out with a girlfriend, so don't tell me. Nothing destroys the allure of a presumably hot and happening restaurant more than common or crude behavior from the customers.
This lesson was impressed upon me very strongly about 25 years ago at an Italian restaurant on upper Columbus Avenue, not too far from the Museum of Natural History. It had just opened and been written about in a couple of publications, so I popped in one night for a quick one and to look at the menu. I eventually spoke to a waiter about this and that, and he pointed out that the owner was celebrating the opening of the place with a large group of friends and family. I looked over and there they were -- 15 or so at a big table, raising glasses and being way too loud. They looked like New Jersey Italians.
I went downstairs to the bathroom, and as I was washing my hands one of the owner's friends or family members -- a big tall guy with a moustache -- came in and went straight for the urinal and loudly belched, loudly farted and took a leak at precisely the same instant. Boom-boom-bam! And then he went "aaahhhh!" like a grizzly bear having an orgasm. And then he snorted.
Now, I'm as human as the next guy and so I try not to look down my nose at people, but this guy, I decided then and there, was a total animal. And I said to myself, if the owner has beasts in his family or among his friends, then he too must be a belching and farting peon on some level, and this will come out in different ways in the running of his business, and sooner or later the restaurant will close. Probably sooner. I decided all this less than 30 seconds after the show in the bathroom.
Four to six months later, the place had indeed closed. I'm not making this up.
Posted by Jeffrey Wells on July 9, 2008 at 11:09 AM
comment #1
Ponderer
says ...
"And I said to myself, if the owner has beasts in his family or among his friends, then he too must be a belching and farting peon on some level, and this will come out in different ways in the running of his business, and sooner or later the restaurant will close."
Loved the observations in this, except I can't agree with this part. I mean, come on, Billy Carter was kind of the epitome of the belching, farting kind of lout you describe, and Jimmy Carter couldn't be any less of that type.
Not that you were wrong in this case, but it's hardly a general rule.
Posted by Ponderer
at July 9, 2008 12:47 PM
comment #2
CinemaPhreek
says ...
From most accounts, not much of a fight - due to whatever bad blood from NATURAL BORN KILLERS (or Hamsher's book about it) Tarantino came up from behind and sucker punched Murphy.
Take that with a grain of salt, but having seen the video of him attacking the camera guy outside the Sundance Starbucks, its not hard to imagine Tarantino would be that chickenshit. Afterall, this is the guy who, according to Hamsher, tried to lecture 'Nam vet Stone about violence.
Posted by CinemaPhreek
at July 9, 2008 12:48 PM
comment #3
nemo
says ...
"This is the place, remember, where Quentin Tarantino and Don Murphy had their celebrated lunchtime fisticuffs . . ."
Is this the incident that Tarantino claimed was "just a little bitch slap, a little bitch slap don't hurt nobody"? Or is this some other incident in which QT behaved like a 4-year-old?
Posted by nemo
at July 9, 2008 1:26 PM
comment #4
Arizona Joe
says ...
Frank Bruni has some Nabokovian shadings to his pieces. I think he is a very good writer. But I always get the feeling that the restaurants he writes about are very pretentious, and the dishes are overdone, grotesque concoctions. It makes me feel like haute cuisine is to this era what alcohol was to the 1920s.
Some of these New York places Bruni writes about just sound like a waste for the average person, much less a tourist. Why pay hundreds of dollars for a dubious gastronomic experience and poor service?
I wish everyone would go back to what Julia Child called, "real food."
I have always hated the word, "foodie." And I am all "foodied" out. I just want something good to eat, that looks nice, and not something so opulent you want to gag.
Posted by Arizona Joe
at July 9, 2008 1:38 PM
comment #5
corey3rd
says ...
it all comes down to what Bourdain once said, you can always tell a restaurant by its bathroom. I've never seen a guy like that in a Hooter's Mens room.
I only pay top dollar for a true food experience. A couple months ago, a chef pal took us to a restaurant for a "mystery meal." The food was so amazing (including a whole red snapper covered in peppers) that the other patrons were in awe of our table.
Posted by corey3rd
at July 9, 2008 2:11 PM
comment #6
Mgmax, le Corbeau
says ...
Oh Lord, a restaurant in New York being in the attitude business? Heaven forfend.
By the way, if there ARE any foodies in this crowd, you can check out my new Chicago food video podcast:
http://www.vimeo.com/1228062
Frankbooth will be relieved that the first one is so healthy, but others are not likely to be.
Posted by Mgmax, le Corbeau
at July 9, 2008 2:15 PM
comment #7
Luke Y. Thompson
says ...
Belching and farting...in a BATHROOM? Heaven forbid!
Posted by Luke Y. Thompson
at July 9, 2008 2:26 PM
comment #8
Edward
says ...
The first week in July I was visiting family in NJ. If nearby I'd recommend Casa Vasca in Newark, a fabulous Basque retaurant. Great food, ample portions and excellent service.
http://local.yahoo.com/info-10738670-casa-vasca-newark
Posted by Edward
at July 9, 2008 4:40 PM
comment #9
Dzayson
says ...
I think the "grizzly bear having an orgasm" bit was one of the funniest things Wells has ever written. Although the fact that it made me laugh out loud probably makes me an animal as well.
Posted by Dzayson
at July 9, 2008 6:33 PM
comment #10
scooterzz
says ...
"Now, I'm as human as the next guy and so I try not to look down my nose at people..."
really??....this is a test, right?
Posted by scooterzz
at July 9, 2008 8:50 PM
comment #11
nola
says ...
I used to live three blocks from the Weho Ago and always had a good meal and good service. What the heck happened to the East Coast version?
Thanks for linking to these reviews. I can't wait to read them.
Posted by nola
at July 10, 2008 12:51 AM
comment #12
frankbooth
says ...
We only want what's best for your health, big guy. Which means hog jowls every other week at most.
At least until you tell me what your must-see recommendations are for the silent film fest coming up at the Castro (aside from The Man Who Laughs, which is a no-brainer.) I defer to you completely on this one.
(Okay, okay, no more "hog jowls" jokes. But it's just so much fun to say!)
Posted by frankbooth
at July 10, 2008 1:53 AM
comment #13
Mgmax, le Corbeau
says ...
The Kid Brother is arguably Harold Lloyd's best film, at least dramatically the most solid, because it pretty much steals the plot of Henry King's Tol'able David (which makes the Lloyd esrate's suit against Adam Sandler for The Waterboy ripping off Lloyd's The Freshman rather ironic).
Haven't seen The Soul of Youth or Les Deux Timides.
Michael is a very modern story about a (clearly) gay author of reknown and his protege who drifts away from him. Very well done, emotionally intelligent and subtle, though some might find it pretty low on the drama scale. Mainly interesting because you wouldn't expect this kind of Death in Vebice-y movie being made back then.
For sheer entertainment value, tough to beat The Man Who Laughs and The Unknown Saturday night, both darkly gothic tales about physical deformity; Laughs is superb, Unknown is some sick shit, I recommend 'em both highly. (It's not that long a double bill because The Unknown is quite short, 50 min. or so.)
Prince Achmed, a sort of animated film, is very pretty but on the dull side if you ask me. I have the DVD and have yet to reach the end.
The Silent Enemy is interesting for its authenticity, okay as drama; if the Native American subject interests you, worth seeing on the big screen.
Her Wild Oat is cute fluff, you can read more here:
http://www.nitrateville.com/viewtopic.php?t=1021
Haven;t seen the Japanese one (much as I'd like to) or The Patsy (even though I taped it off TCM, probably pretty good though as Davies' vehicles, especially directed by Vidor, tend to be first rate).
Enjoy!
Posted by Mgmax, le Corbeau
at July 10, 2008 6:34 AM
comment #14
Mgmax, le Corbeau
says ...
Death in Vebice. That's Homer Simpson's favorite Viscinti film.
Posted by Mgmax, le Corbeau
at July 10, 2008 6:36 AM
comment #15
Mgmax, le Corbeau
says ...
Viscinti. That's... man I can't type on these tiny laptop keys first thing in the morning.
Posted by Mgmax, le Corbeau
at July 10, 2008 6:46 AM
comment #16
frankbooth
says ...
I've been to Vebice. I took a galangal ride on the cranal.
Thinks for the teeps!
ps
It can be hard to hit those little keys, especially if you have large elbows.
Posted by frankbooth
at July 10, 2008 9:46 AM
comment #17
Mgmax, le Corbeau
says ...
Actually what it is, is my ongoing denial that it's bifocal time, or its functional equivalent, time to increase browser type size. Before my eyes shake off sleep, I can't see the damn typos in this tiny little box.
Posted by Mgmax, le Corbeau
at July 10, 2008 12:04 PM
comment #18
Edward
says ...
Mgmax, I've been in denial about needing trifocals. As long as I can focus a camera, I'm good.
Posted by Edward
at July 10, 2008 2:21 PM
comment #19
supertaster
says ...
And I said to myself, if the owner has beasts in his family or among his friends, then he too must be a belching and farting peon on some level, and this will come out in different ways in the running of his business, and sooner or later the restaurant will close.
Wow, then you should do your sons a favor and make a clean break...god forbid anyone ever associates them with their father, they'll never be successful.
I looked over and there they were -- 15 or so at a big table, raising glasses and being way too loud. They looked like New Jersey Italians.
Its obvious the beatings Jeff took at the hands of the neighborhood guidos as a child have left an indelible hatred for Italians... but what's funny to me is that when I was growing up we always looked down on the cold, rigid, waspy types like Jeff who, denied any affection or human touch by their parents, would surely grow up to be emotionally crippled, crotchety, malcontents.
Decades later, at least one waspy NJ kid grew up to be an emotionally crippled, crotchety malcontent. I'm not making this up.
Posted by supertaster
at July 10, 2008 8:08 PM
comment #20
janee
says ...
Si vous etes interesses par le dossier, ou desirez en savoir plus, contactez-moi par mail, et je vous mettrai en contact.
Best regards,Jane, CEO of high availability
Posted by janee
at May 17, 2011 5:45 AM