Restaurant Critics Lie

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Around the time that SARS hit Toronto, I  was working in an offshoot of a well established Toronto restaurant. that rhymes with bEDO. We we're struggling to get off the ground, when I had the pleasure of serving an elitist moron who was the son of one of Canada's great authors and in a conflagration of poor judgment had been granted the position of food critic in a still fledgling national newspaper of dubious reputation.

(update: the publication is still fledgling and still dubious)

I wish my Daddy's reputation could get me a job like that. For arguments sake, lets call this person bRichler, though I will avoid any reference to bathroom breaks, sniff sniff.

I served Mr. bRichlers table that night, it was a party of three, they had ordered sushi and then mains. I brought the sushi course, which was then consumed. After that the critics friends disappeared for a long long time, and frankly if I had the misfortune of knowing this spoiled moron, I would probably do the same.

But I'm your waiter, and I don't know that your friends are so bored with your company that they have fled to the bar upstairs to spend more quality time in the bathroom. I tell the kitchen not to fire the mains, thinking that Mr. bRichlers skittish friends are going to return.

They never do, but the following day, I get to open up the Bational Boast and watch good friends get pilloried by some born to the manor twat (who may or may not benefit greatly from rehab and a reality sandwich). On a personal level, I was left unscathed, but it was clear to me that these folks didn't know the difference between dining and eating.

Fortunately, the gentleman who owns this ill fated joint is blessed with another review in another national newspaper, and this time it comes from someone who attends the same synagogue. Lets call her, Boanne Bates, for arguments sake.

I then open up another national newspaper, (lets call it the Glib and Drole) only to find the same restaurant is one of the most brilliant things ever.

The thing is, that I served Ms. Bates. Once when she came in with her husband, and on a subsequent visit where she spoke with the owner, someone that she had previously to as " attractive and charming" in a previous review. I felt a sexual tension in the air that left me surprised that Ms. Bates did not get on her knees under the table in full view of her husband.

But hey, I'm just the waiter and that is not my concern. Ms. Bates later went on to vilify another well known Toronto restaurant run by the exact same chef, providing a similar menu. Perhaps the owners should have spent their Sundays somewhere else.

Next time you read a restaurant review, take it with a grain of salt, consider the source, and remember that the words you read may have an agenda that you cannot see.

Eat, drink, and think, for yourself.

And by the way, to all libel lawyers out there, I am implying that Jacob Richler is a cokehead and Joanne Cates is a liar. Any takers?

http://www.goyestoeverything.com