Spilling drinks, not identities, at the Curtis Club
Unspilled drinks at the Curtis Club.
Adam Platt, restaurant critic for New York, recently decided to out himself, publishing his picture on the cover of the magazine and writing about why he decided to give up his anonymity.
You won't find me doing the same thing. As anyone knows who's shared a meal with "somebody" -- be it a politician, musician, CEO or other notable -- things run differently when the spotlight is on.
While it's true that food can't be sourced differently at the last moment and recipes can't be changed, portions can be larger, plates can be more thoughtfully arranged, and dishes can be tasted one last time before they're sent out.
And then there's service, which is the easiest part of a restaurant experience to change on a dime.
If the folks at The Curtis Club, which I review this week, had known what I looked like, I'll bet the server would have brought a towel, not to mention a free drink, after he spilled my cocktail. Instead, he walked away.
That experience wasn't fun for me, but it's good news for you. When I eat out, I'm not a "somebody." I'm just a girl out for dinner, and that means I can write a review that's much more representative of the meal you might have at the same restaurant.
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