Damn you Pigeon. I wanted to hate you, but instead I ended up loving you.
– Me, drunk sexting Le Pigeon at 2 am.
After 30 years on the front lines of many restaurant kitchens I can smell bullshit and phoniness in overhyped dining spots 100 miles away. I am an opinionated diner, OK a very opinionated diner. I know exactly what I like and exactly what I hate. I have a hard time with cutesy food lacking flavor and soul, needlessly decked out with puree swirls and edible flowers. Done right it can be fantastic. Done wrong it is just another horrid food fad I wish would disappear. I saw the same phenomena occur when molecular cuisine arrived on our shores. Soon every chef had a larder full of chemicals and syringes. Incanting Ferran’s magic spells while attempting to transform ordinary food into flights of whimsy. Diners were awash in egg shaped mango spheres and bacon foams. At the same time arose the proliferation of social media. The cyberworld became cluttered with too many yelpers lacking a firm foundation of culinary knowledge and an independent perspective. The adherents of popular restaurants began to sound more like reverend Sun Myung Moon’s Moonies….