Yesterday, GQ UK's New York-based contributor Michael Woolf unleashed a salvo against New York's dining culture, leading off with the big claim that "If I ever give up on New York, it will be because of restaurants." Since "modern life has become a three- and often four- or five-meal-a-day restaurant habit," he details the importance of the breakfast meeting, the difficulties of getting a lunch spot (where a long-ago spat with Michael McCarty has kept him from getting seated at the old media hot spot for years), and, of course, dinner:
Dinner is the "oh-f***" moment of the day. Unless you have an assistant who has expertly troubleshot your social life, or you are an out-of-towner who has diligently reserved the most ecstatically reviewed spots a year in advance, or you have an in, you're totally screwed for any day-of plan. In New York, there are no reservations between 7pm and 9pm. Anywhere. Even a dreary spot. None. Call ten places. Call 20. Nothing. Nobody even calls any more. Instead, you call someone who might know someone who, hope against hope, can swing it.
And the uncool have trouble making after-dinner plans because "the cool have had sex with the personnel at appropriately hip establishments and so accommodation is made," while the rest have to simply wait at the bar.
He argues that complaining about the situation is futile, because "there is a special sort of freeze for the restaurant malcontent," but there's also another solution: As others have pointed out, somebody should introduce him to OpenTable. But not to worry, he's just trolling us anyway.
· Michael Woolf on Securing Top Tables at New York's Finest Restaurants [GQ UK]
· All Coverage of Rants [~ENY~]