This past Friday night, I had the privilege of visiting a local, high-end eatery as a media guest for a special event. Being a restaurant's guest is a decision that is hotly debated among freelance writers and web sites. Some feel that the writer's opinion is necessarily compromised - which I understand - as a result of comp'ed meals. Others feel that freelance writers make little enough as it is that the occasional free meal is a great bennie. I get that, too.
I am food writer, not a "critic" or reviewer. My philosophy, to date, and going forward is, "If I can't say anything nice, I won't say anything at all." A few people have questioned that, because they believe food writers have a duty to report bad food/service to the public. My response is that if you give me a FREE meal don't write about, something's gone horribly wrong.
Here's where I stand: If I wanted to be a restaurant reviewer/critic (I hate that word), I would follow the Ruth Reichl model. Go in disguise, pay my own way and visit at least 3 times before writing. The amateur "critics" on yelp.com and other such sites who pan a restaurant after one visit are being incredibly irresponsible. Restaurants are discretionary spending and incredibly vulnerable to the whims of economic flux. If a respected writer says, "this place sucks, don't go," it can be the beginnings of a death knell that puts the livelihood of dozens of people - servers, bussers, sous chefs, etc. - into a tailspin. To do that based on one visit to a place - especially if one has not worked in the industry - borders on libel.
In any given restaurant, on any given night, things can go horribly wrong for one table or for one whole service -- and it might not even be the restaurant's fault. A supplier doesn't fulfilll his promises. An oven breaks down mid-service. Three servers call in sick. Or the customer walks in 10 minutes before closing and wonders why she gets surly looks over the course of her 90-minute meal, when all the servers want to cash out, clean up and go home - but can't, because she's holding them all hostage.
I've worked in food service. I've been a server, a busser, a volunteer cook, a manager, a finisher in a pastry shop, a wholesaler, and a delivery driver/wedding cake consultant. I've also worked catering. My sister's been a server; my mom owned a restaurant. I know what can go wrong and how easily. I know from razor-thin profit margins, good and bad ingredients, sanitary practices that would make you queasy, yelling in the kitchen and what it takes to put out a good, hot meal in volume.
On Friday night, the people at the restaurant knew me and knew I was there to write about them. I became the 800-pound gorilla. The manager, the hostess, the waitress, the sommelier - I got to see them all, and all at their nicest, most professional behavior. To top things off, I requested a table at the counter in front of the open kitchen. If I'd have given it any thought, I wouldn't have. Here I am, "The Food Writer", pad and pen in hand, staring right into the chef's eyes. Fortunately, this particular chef was confident with good reason. He runs an immaculately clean and organized kitchen where people enjoy what they do. There was yelling, yes, as the tickets churned out a la Anthony Bourdain in Kitchen Confidential, but there was also laughing and smiling and real joy.
A low - and high - point came right after I was seated. Two women at the same counter where I was seated had clearly been waiting more than a few minutes to place their order. I almost immediately got bottled water and bread with dipping sauce. I felt horribly guilty, because I knew why I got served first. I turned to them and offered my bread and sauce, "Would you ladies care for some bread?" They declined, but my server overheard and immediately she swooped in and made it right. I emerged from the evening sated and, quite honestly thrilled by the attention -- but with a sobering understanding of my responsibility both as a journalist and to the community of businesses I serve. I need to be honest, but also as undemanding as possible (my poor server had probably a half-dozen other tables, but I never saw her sweat as she patiently answered my questions - I did see her scurry off quickly to care for her other charges, though).
I thought I'd give you a glimpse into my (new) world, as I'm learning to understand it. It's quite something. It's quite a ride, and I am loving it like crazy.
