Do critics get better tables?

Uh, yes. Better tables, better service, better food. This is the ugly truth of our business.

Now that that’s out of the way, here’s why I bring it up: a reader responded to a recent post on my wine blog in which I praised a local restaurant. He’d visited the same place during the same time period, and while he agreed with me about the superior quality of the food and wine, he said his meal was all but ruined by bad service. He pointed out that I had a great experience in large part because I’m known at that restaurant — AND (actually, the reader had the tact not to mention this, but I will) because I have the power to give a restaurant smashing and absolutely free publicity.

He was right.

If you think there are other food critics out there who are avoiding the trap, my experience says you’re wrong. This is too small a place, and the community of restaurateurs too intimate, for real anonymity to exist for more than, say, a year. I’m willing to bet someone coming in from one of the coasts — someone who’s never been to Minnesota — could successfully hide his or her identity for about that long. And the better ones do expend a lot of effort: disguises, false names, hidden note taking devices, etc. But after a few years in the business, I’m sorry. . . . It’s simply a ruse, designed to make the public feel fairly represented.

There are exceptions, of course. It’s certainly easier to visit a brand-new restaurant anonymously (assuming its chef and front-of-the-house man both are new to the industry or the area as well) than it is to slip in unnoticed to La Belle Vie. And reviews of small neighborhood joints, mom-and-pop shops, and ethnic restaurants usually are the real deal. But when it comes to the big, showy places or trendy urban spots, a food critic tends to get found out by visit number two or three.

My colleague, Jeremy Iggers, and I have discussed this at length. One of the things we’ve pledged to do at The Rake is disclose when we are known to the restaurant (as I did in my wine blog), so there’s no wink-wink arrangement whereby we pretend to be anonymous while management rolls out the red carpet. Even if we only suspect we’ve been “made,” we’ll own up. Then we’ll do our best to assess the food, service, and ambiance of a place fairly. But it’s helpful for us to know what happens to other people when they walk through the door.

And that’s where you come in.

We want this blog to be a real dialogue. We’ll put forth opinions based on our years of journalism experience and culinary education. But so far as adding a genuinely egalitarian element to the site — and to the resource guide we’re compiling for local diners and wine drinkers — we’re relying on input from the community.

The reader who commented on Sweet Spot did exactly what we hope people will do, adding his experience to the mix. So, if you see a post you agree with, we’d love to have you write in. But if you see a review you disagree with, or if you’ve had an experience that was significantly different from ours, please post away. . . .