Food and Whining - A modest outlet for a mediocrity-weary diner.

I am unaware of any process in nature more volatile than that of rating a restaurant. The wildly-diverse experiences that wildly-diverse people can have even at the same establishment mimics the sporadic nature of earthquake predictions, snowflake patterns, or the formation of galaxies. To truly gauge a restaurant, all potential reviewers would need to dine on the same night with the same crowd, be cooked for by the same staff, served by the same server, at the same table, have the same tastes, having had the same prior dining experiences; already a staggering number of variables. Another factor, as any professional restaurant reviewer can tell you and most people discover on their own, is that one's impression of a restaurant can change radically even between visits. Chefs make mistakes, servers have “off nights”, moods of diners vary wildly, and what someone is craving should be aligned (ore or less) with the cuisine of the restaurant chosen. If you're in the mood for a stea...

You grab a seat at the bar and, if this is your final destination rather than simply a "stop-over" in the wait for a table, there is often a quick search for a hook under the bar. I'm not even really sure when they came about. I don't have distinct memories of them from a decade ago, but surely they've been around for a while. It was an elusive solution to an obvious problem. Those sometimes-knee-piercing little attachments are wildly-useful tools for storing the various accessories required to survive daily life. For women, it's an obvious purse hanger allowing it to be kept within reach, off the floor, and protected just enough from anyone who might be tempted by its contents, or the bag itself. For men, it's a little less routine. Those bold enough to carry a "man bag" can use the hooks much like one would with a purse. They can also hold umbrellas, a camera, perhaps a small laptop bag or messenger bag, a bike helmet, the occasional hat, jac...

A good cocktail is not simply a spirit cloaked in a Halloween costume, it is formally-dressed and in full makeup ready for its closeup. Regardless of how “cutting-edge” you might consider yourself, everyone gets a touch of nostalgia now and then. It’s a natural human craving for a simpler time when efficiency and profitability didn't trample over quality, when having vegetables for dinner meant having to grow and harvest them first, when communicating with someone far away meant writing a letter, and everything was made by hand because there was simply no other way things could be made. Cocktails have become automated and "dumbed-down" in the form of the ubiquitous "soda gun", pre-mixed high-fructose corn syrup-laden "juices", and cheaper versions of classic ingredients have become the norm. While organic and local food has swept into restaurant kitchens around the globe, their cocktail bars really haven’t kept pace. I can’t tell you the number o...

“Surprisingly, though, taste is not the only consideration. Presentation is the most important thing - garnish, colour, the glass. If the drink pleases the eye, the customer's mouth will start to water. Aroma is the next thing, then taste. We apply these criteria when judging a new cocktail in a competition.” ~ Peter Dolelli, The Savoy Cocktail Book In every high-end bar (and even some of the lower ones), there is one ingredient common to every cocktail they make, an ingredient so subtle, it's downright transparent (or, at least, it should be). Depending on the device that made it, ice can be cloudy with an increasingly dense galaxy of bubbles towards the center, or it can be clear as glass. Achieving that distinction is no simple feat. (More on that in a minute.) First, let's talk about how ice got in cocktails in the first place. The origins of ice in drinks are fairly simple and understandable. Someone discovered that in warmer weather, people preferred (but needed t...

I remember watching Wild Kingdom as a child and how it all seemed so cruel and unfair. A lion would stalk an hours-old, four-legged baby of some animal variety and, through the magic of camera work, when the parent was even the slightest bit inattentive, the lion would kill the animal, often under the helpless gaze of the parent The fact that it was cute wasn't helping the matter. Why didn't the film crew step in and stop it? How could they let it just get killed? The reality, which I couldn't understand at the time, was that while one cute baby animal died, a few other cute animals (cubs of the lion) would be fed, along with mom. As an ironic bonus, the parent of the sacrificed animal wouldn't be passing such inattentive genes on to the next generation. The impermanence of the universe wasn't yet clear to me. Restaurants, too, have life-spans. Some as short as a bait fish in the ocean, born only to feed other animals while other restaurants seem to have the momen...

In the marketing business, "branding" is everything. Where once a brand implied an assurance of quality, it only now offers familiarity and bragging rights. In recent years, the allegiance to brand has trampled right over actual quality. A strong brand can get people to pay a premium for the brand name alone. Sadly, both restaurants and the chefs who lead them seem to be falling into a similar trap. Outpost versions of classic restaurants only rarely live up to the the originals. Perhaps it's simply the absence of the famed chef who can't be in all locations at the same time, or maybe a shortage of staff with sufficient passion for food and service, or that some locations simply entertain less finicky clientele. Whatever the case, the disappointment of at such a restaurant can tarnish the original. Such was my case with Gotham Steakhouse in Miami; but first, a bit of history. When my former chef-girlfriend and I broke up a dozen years ago, I was surprised at how much...

For all the uniqueness to be found in every restaurant, there is one process handled in a strikingly similar (if not identical) fashion by all of them; "the check" or "the bill". Let's first make note of the cultural distinction between those terms. If you receive a "check" in the mail, that's usually a good thing. You now have money you didn't have before. A "bill" that arrives in the mail is the opposite; you now owe money you had just a moment before. Yet, Americans traditionally refer to the "meal invoice" as a "check". Obvious as it might seem for a restaurant to tally up your meal and give you a summary - their per-unit cost multiplied by the number of units you ordered, totaled at the bottom with the ever-present sales tax - a quick Google search indicates that the entire idea is patented . Who knew? For those in a hurry at the end of a meal due to prior obligation, the company at the table, or in my...