35 Comments

I loved reading this as I do all of your work! I always wondered what Bauer's dinner parties were like. I spilled water on his lap :) one day when I was working at Town Hall. We still got a good review haha oops.

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I have enjoyed his company on the few occasions I've been in it both socially and professionally. His partner is the problematic one.

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Loved this post and your style! I have often wondered what restaurant critics ate when they weren’t sat down at restaurants on the job. I might have ended up in his kitchen too - if only to save the birds!

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Thanks very much! I've always been a bit surprised/disappointed that so many restaurant critics have zero restaurant/cooking experience.

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I was trying very hard to be diplomatic but one would hope they would know their way around a kitchen. I have been a part of the huddle of staff out the back wondering if that one diner is a critic or not! I look forward to your stories from the front lines! At least you know how to whip up those egg whites!

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That does not sound fun at all! And yes! Absolutely. I imagine one has to troll through some awful dinners.

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Like so many things in life, it's all in the wrist. I would also like to add that restaurant review is no walk in the park, either. I've been on a few as a +1 and, on a couple of occasions, in a work capacity. I found myself hunched over a toilet in a Chinese restaurant my first time. The restaurant was blameless. It was entirely my own fault, but I suppose that's a story for another time...

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That fine chicken line between succulent and sawdust.

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In this case, I think the line could be seen from outer space.

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So much fun to read. Are you going to send it to him?

When I interviewed critics for Will Write for Food (including Michael, whom I quoted at length), most said they didn’t cook. Narsai David said they ate “vegetarian gruel” at home to balance out the luxurious meals out.

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Thanks! And, no, I hadn't planned on sending it, but wouldn't be opposed to him reading it in the least.

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"The Christ child's foreskin." Hahahaha. You might've guessed that that one would tickle me. And it did! As did the story surrounding it!

I admire your restraint in using a pristine Band-Aid in your photo staging. A bottle of grenadine, or some equally sanguine substance, must've been somewhere close by, and yet you resisted the urge to grab it. You are a stronger man than I, sir.

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I tried wrapping a few around my fingers and then soaking them off so tht the would be round and (barely) used looking, just like the Christ Child's foreskin. I had hoped to use them for garnish like croutons. No luck. Maybe I'll nail for my next Band-Aid salad recipe this spring.

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this is so so so good. OMG.

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Thanks, lady!

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I believe Barolo is the traditional pairing with bandaids.

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My Italian grandmother always added a dash of Barolo to her Bactine vinaigrettes.

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Did he find many satisfactory restaurants in Antarctica?

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Sadly, they all served nothing but frozen dinners.

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I’ve always said disasters (if handled gracefully) can actually make a party better. I once went to a pool party where a tornado struck. The power went out and we all chipped in to make the dinner in the dark. It makes for a much better story than saying everything was flawless.

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They definitely can be the best sort of party. This one was terrible. Fortunately, I love terrible.

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It’s hard to resist a tango with trouble 😈

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I don't know...why would a restaurant critic make a dinner for people who work in restos? Would an art critic for the Chron make a painting or any other creation and show it off as if...?

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To be fair, he was making dinner (or whatever one might call it) for his fellow food journalist employees, not for anyone actually working in restaurants. It was a staff only party.

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God forbid any of them wrote a critique of the meal!

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Had any of them done so, they'd have gained my eternal admiration.

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I love your storytelling Michael, and I love these kinds of parties —I never leave them with unwanted calories. Vodka doesn’t count, and literally if there is gin around.

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Thank you very much, Mr. Rochat! I seriously don't remember if I ate anything at all at that party, but my brain was definitely full by the end. And same here re: gin.

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Please, call me Johnny, or I’m going to start calling you Mr. Procopio, deal?

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I feel I really missed out on living in the era of being addressed by one's last name. I want to be the one who says, "Oh, do please call me Michael!"

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I suppose it’s my life as a doctor and the insufferable pretension that will get the last word — if there is an obit.

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This is the problem with being a lawyer: there are potential clients everywhere. Sigh.

Love this, Michael, it speaks to so many dinner party disasters, my own, and those only witnessed (there but for . . . )

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My first thought was "Is Amy going to approach Bauer to start a libel case against me?"

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Yikes!! Uh, no. Sigh. My chosen profession really has been overtaken by its very worst elements and now that is all everyone sees. It makes me so sad.

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I'm sighing right there with you.

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