Why I Don't Yelp.

A lot of my friends love, love, love Yelp. I can see the attraction - in only a few minutes you can get a restaurant or service review from someone just like you - an average person. That's what I see as the big problem, however. And here's Yelp's dark side: If, as a business owner, you want to respond to a post, you have to register (i.e., give up some personal info) and add your picture. That's right. A picture of yourself, not the business, not your cat - you.

My business involves being a somewhat public person (today at the Farmers' Market a very nice gentleman asked me if I'd be interested in writing his biography), so I really wouldn't care about having my mug out there. But not every business owner wants to go through that, which is why IMHO you don't see a lot of responses to negative posts. That means that pretty much anyone who signs up for a Yelp account has carte blanche to libel a business with no consequences. They don't have to put their pictures up to do it.

That being said, I believe that most of the reviews on Yelp are honest and that the things that happened really happened, at least from the Yelpers' points of view. Unfortunately, they are far from objective critics and often uneducated about the businesses they're describing. I'll give an example: I've seen comments as fundamentally flawed as complaints about having anchovies in a Caesar salad. Although there is some controversy about whether the original salad (which is Mexican and not Italian in origin, btw) had anchovies, it's pretty accepted that the version in most American restaurants has them. And usually a raw or coddled egg, if they're trying to be authentic.

I was reading about some of my favorite restaurants in Monterey County. One diner commented that she enjoyed watching "the elephant seals" out the window. We don't have elephant seals in Monterey. Made me wonder what else she got wrong. Another diner commented that a particular eatery, people of a particular race were not welcomed and treated as well as others. Following this comment, others of that race went in and mentioned they suspected the same thing. It's possible, of course, but it made me ask this question: Did you, because you read the first post, go in looking for that treatment?

It's easy to pick something apart and find the flaws. Nothing is easier to pick on than food - tastes and palates vary so widely that one man's feast can literally be another's awful dinner. It's easy to perceive someone who's simply rushed as being intentionally rude - I know I've come off that way more than once when frustrated. And it's very, very easy to forget that your server is a human being with wants and needs like your own and a life that starts when the dinner shift ends. That's why I don't like Yelp. It's too easy to bash from behind a fortress of anonymity.

So, as some of you know and some don't, my writing has taken off quite a bit.  I've decided to make this blog something a little different - instead of recipes (please go to my weekly column - "Simply Local" at http://www.thecalifornian.com/ for more of those), I want to write about my adventures in food writing.  I've met so many amazing people doing so many amazing things with food over the last year; I want to have the opportunity to introduce you to them, to share some opinions on the whole "food as rock-and-roll" wave, and to let you get occasionally breathless with me as I continue this amazing journey.  Thanks for being interested.

On Being a Food Writer

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.