The Rake Magazine

Tag: Andrew Zimmern

  • Fanfare for Food Fight

    [A response to various blog posts about Mpls./St. Paul Magazine food critic Andrew Zimmern: "Ode to a Sycophant," "Zimmern’s Complaint," and "A Bone to Pick with Andrew Zimmern." See also "I, Too, Have a Bone to Pick with Andrew Zimmern."]

    Just read the whole three-tiered back and forth! Love it. Laughed my ass off. Am proud of my culinary community. I love The Rake — Mitch Omer (such balls!). And Tom Bartel’s response was just absolutely nuts-on: "I¹m beginning to think we should have a test before we let people read The Rake. First question: What does the word irony mean?" What an asset The Rake is to our watery, wussified, fear-laden journalistic scene here in the Shitties.

    “Name Withheld by Request”
    Letter

  • I, Too, Have a Bone to Pick with Andrew Zimmern

    At any rate, what’s my big problem with Zimmern? Where to begin, where to begin? First, I should admit that I really don’t know who this Zimmern fellow is. I mean, I really don’t know who the hell he is, just as, I’m sure, he doesn’t know who the hell I am. I got wind of a recent dust-up in the blogosphere, however, and felt curious enough to search Google for images of the man. I start there whenever possible, because I have no problem at all judging a book by its cover, being a firm believer in that old business about a picture being worth a thousand words.

    At any rate, I spent some time looking at photographs of a man alleged to be Zimmern and quickly concluded that a thousand words were something like 975 words too many; a couple dozen, I should think, would suffice.

    I can definitely tell you that I don’t like the cut of Zimmern’s jib. I think he eats too much, and given that he apparently spends so much time eating, I also think it’s fair to presume that he eats bugs … no, wait—he does, it seems, eat bugs, but what I meant to say was that it’s fair to presume that he talks with his mouth full. I don’t care for that.

    I dug a little deeper to find out more about this Zimmern character, and discovered not only that—as I suspected—he eats too much, but he also eats almost entirely at places I’ve never heard of. I’m not a big fan of people who make a habit of eating at places I’ve never heard of, then proceed to go on and on about how great those places are.

    I’m guessing that Zimmern has never spent a morning hanging drywall and then, with dust all over his hands (and under his fingernails), eaten the hell out of a Manwich and a can of Pringles. I’m also guessing that he’s never spent a cold afternoon in the garage skinning muskrats then driven his truck to the Arby’s drive-thru and polished off the 5-for-$5.99 roast beef special all by his lonesome.

    Maybe that’s unfair. Maybe Zimmern has, in fact, laid drywall and eaten the hell out of a Manwich and a can of Pringles. Maybe he has skinned muskrats and gone to Arby’s to gorge solo. But I’ll say this: if I’m correct in my suppositions—and I feel confident that I am—then I’m also correct in saying that this is a man who doesn’t know a diddly-damn thing about truly great food and the supreme pleasures and surprises of eating when you’re flat-out hungry as shit.

    Answer me these questions, Zimmern, you hot shot:
    • Have you ever eaten a pie from Beek’s, King of Pizza?
    • Under the right circumstances (very, very hungry; very, very stoned and/or drunk; etc.) could you rave for hours about the wings at Shorty and Wag’s?
    • Can you name, with appropriate enthusiasm, a favorite brand of canned chili?
    • Could you, do you honestly think, tackle the Tremendous Twelve at Perkins?
    • Have you ever been so fucking hungry that you’ve eaten a microwave hamburger from SuperAmerica and felt like you’d died and gone to heaven?
    •Might you, as I did this very evening, mix together cans of Progresso vegetable beef and beef barley soup and eat the whole damn pot while seated on the kitchen floor?
    • Have you ever spent hours driving along a freeway praying for the appearance of a Taco John’s?
    • Do you agree that Tootsie Rolls and pretzels are often as not a perfectly suitable lunch?

    If you answered no to even half of these questions, Zimmern, you’re not only a piss-poor food critic, but you’re also a pussy.

  • I, Too, Have A Bone To Pick With Andrew Zimmern

    I know I said yesterday that I was going to talk about my favorite books from 2007. I’ll do that eventually, I suppose, although who really gives a rat’s ass? Right now I’m all worked up about something else, so the book nonsense will just have to get shoved aside for the time being.

    I’m not a guy who can easily mask his feelings, and I guess I more or less telegraphed where I’m coming from in that headline up there: along with virtually every one of my Rake colleagues, most of whom I don’t personally know, I have a beef with Andrew Zimmern. And, yes, I know I said earlier that I had a bone to pick, but this being a discussion about food I feel excused in mixing my metaphors, if in fact that’s what I’m doing, or did.

    At any rate, what’s my big problem with Zimmern? Where to begin, where to begin?

    First of all, I suppose I should admit that I really don’t know who the hell this Zimmern fellow is, and by that I mean I really don’t know who the hell he is, just as, I’m sure, he doesn’t know who the hell I am. I got wind of the recent dust-ups, however, and felt riled and curious enough to search Google images for a picture of the man. I always start there, if possible, because I have no problem at all judging a book by its cover, being as I am a firm believer in that old business about a picture being worth a thousand words (a phrase, incidentally, that was coined by my old colleague at City Pages, Dylan Hicks. Or perhaps it was Paul Demko). At any rate, I spent some time –way too much time, actually– looking at photographs of a man alleged to be Zimmern and quickly concluded that a thousand words were something like 975 words too many; a couple dozen, I should think, would suffice.

    From what I’ve seen I can definitely tell you that I don’t like the cut of Zimmern’s jib. I think he eats too much, and given that he apparently spends so much of his time eating, I also think it’s fair to presume that he eats bugs…no, wait, he does, it seems, eat bugs, but what I meant to say was that it’s fair to presume that he talks with his mouth full. I don’t care for that.

    I had to dig a little deeper to find out more about this Zimmern character, and mostly what I discovered was that –yes, just as I suspected– he eats too much, and also eats almost entirely at places I’ve never heard of. I’m not a big fan of people who make a habit of eating at places I’ve never heard of, and then proceed to go on and on about how great those places are.

    I’m guessing that Zimmern has never in his entire life spent a morning laying drywall and then, with dust all over his hands and under his fingernails, eaten the hell out of a Manwich and a can of Pringles. I’m also guessing that he’s never spent a cold afternoon in the garage skinning muskrats and then driven his truck through the drive-up lane at Arby’s and polished off the 5-for-$5.99 roast beef special all by his lonesome.

    Maybe that’s unfair. Maybe Zimmern has, in fact, laid drywall and eaten the hell out of a Manwich and a can of Pringles. Maybe he has skinned muskrats and gone to Arby’s to gorge himself on beef. But I’ll say this: if I’m correct in my suppositions –and I feel confident that I am– then I’m also correct in saying that this is a man who doesn’t know a diddly-damn thing about truly great food and the supreme pleasures and surprises of eating when you’re flat-out hungry as shit.

    Answer me these questions, Zimmern, you hot shot:

    Have you ever eaten a pie from Beek’s, King of Pizza?

    Under the right circumstances (very, very hungry; very, very stoned and/or drunk; etc.) could you rave for hours about the wings at Shorty and Wag’s?

    Can you name, with appropriate enthusiasm, a favorite brand of canned chili?

    Could you, do you honestly think, tackle the Tremendous Twelve at Perkins?

    Have you ever been so fucking hungry that you’ve eaten a microwave hamburger from Super America and felt like you’d died and gone to heaven?

    Might you, as I did this very evening, mix together cans of Progresso vegetable beef and beef barley soup and eat the whole damn pot while seated on the kitchen floor?

    Have you ever spent hours driving along a freeway praying for the appearance of a Taco John’s?

    Do you agree that Tootsie Rolls and pretzels are often as not a perfectly suitable lunch?

    If you answered no to even half of these questions, Zimmern, you’re not only a piss-poor food critic, but you’re also a pussy.

  • A Bone to Pick with Andrew Zimmern

    I was going to tell you about my most memorable dining
    experiences of this past year, but that will have to wait until tomorrow. There is more pressing business at hand: Andrew Zimmern’s recent blog post.

    I have only met Andrew – who writes about restaurants for
    Mpls-St.Paul magazine – a couple of times, but he seems like a nice guy. Once,
    when we happened to be dining at the same restaurant, he sent a couple of
    glasses of champagne over to our table
    – a classy gesture. But in a
    recent blog post, Zimmern says some things about my colleague, Ann Bauer, and
    me, that kind of hurt my feelings.

    I don’t mean the
    part where he says that I have a "workmanlike style honed over many years
    churning copy at the Star Tribune." I’m not sure how to return that compliment,
    except to say that Andrew is the perfect restaurant critic for a magazine like
    Mpls-St. Paul.

    No, the part that bothered me is when Andrew wrote that Ann
    needs to get out more, and that The Rake should send us to the restaurants that
    are "really making some noise," like La
    Belle Vie     and Heartland, which have both been around for years. And then
    he suggests that Ann and I need to be "more conversant with the local dining
    scene."

    That’s an interesting suggestion, coming from a guy who
    seems to spend a lot of his time out of town, eating sheep eyeballs on camera.
    I’m a little curious as to how Andrew finds time to check in on "two dozen
    other restaurants in town that are kicking ass every meal period." I’m in town most of the time, eating out
    about five nights a week, – looking for good restaurants that don’t make a lot
    of noise – and I can’t name that many places that are that consistently
    excellent.

    He did confess that he still hasn’t made it yet to Heidi’s,
    Meritage or Nick & Eddie, but I would be curious to know whether he has
    made it to very many of other new restaurants that we have written about in the
    past year: including Saffron (my nominee for the best new restaurant in the
    Twin Cities), the Blackbird Café, the Chindian Café, Pagoda, Keefer Court, Ngon
    Vietnamese Bistro    , Shiraz, Café BonXai, Mysore, the Hyderabad House, and Vinh
    Loi. Some of these have been reviewed by Andrew’s colleagues, but it looks like
    Mr. Zimmern himself isn’t getting out as much as he should. Or maybe he is
    spending too much time at the usual suspects. He did make it to Cafe Ena but wasn’t impressed – I suggest he give it another try.

    I made it to a lot of other very worthwhile restaurants this past
    year: Peninsula, Brasa, the Grand Café, Cosmos, Relax (the former Yummy), Yum!,
    Tanpopo Noodle Shop, Obento-ya, Cave Vin, Tam-Tam’s African Restaurant, Wolfgang Puck’s 20.21,
    First Course, Little Szechuan, Hoa Bien, Evergreen, Vincent, the Colossal Café, North
    Coast    , Kum Gang San, Victor’s 1959 Café, Sapor, Babalu , Cheng Heng and the
    Namaste Café – and I am sure I am forgetting a few.

    I don’t spend a lot of time going back to places like La
    Belle Vie and Heartland, because they have been around for years. And besides,
    I have had some wonderful meals at La Belle Vie, but I have also had moments
    where I have found myself wondering just exactly what the point is. Tim McKee
    and Josh Thoma are very talented chefs, but their menu, with its truffles and
    porcini and Barkham blue and branzino (sea bass, flown in fresh from the
    Mediterranean), doesn’t exactly engage the place where they are. It’s a cuisine
    they could create anywhere, as long as their customers have enough money – but
    maybe that is the point.

    I’m more inclined to restaurants like Heartland, at least in
    theory. I like and admire Lenny Russo, who is a very engaging guy, and has done
    heroic work to support local farmers and promote local and sustainable eating.
    His menus always sound wonderful – how can you resist a dish like Minnesota elk tartare with preserved tomato
    jam, Wisconsin turnip slaw and rosemary-shallot dressing?     In my limited experience, it’s always good,
    but it doesn’t always taste as exquisite as it sounds. Maybe it’s time for another visit, but I
    wish he used more garlic. Or something.

    Zen philosopher Alan
    Watts     warned against eating the menu instead of the meal. That’s good advice.
    Charlie the Tuna had something similar in mind when he made the distinction
    between "good taste" and "tastes good." Lucky for us, our readers just want to know what tastes good.

    Tomorrow: my favorite tastes and restaurants of 2007. I
    promise.

     

     

     

     

  • Zimmern's Complaint

    Here’s what happened. Mitch Omer — one of my dearest friends in this world — showed up at my house on Thanksgiving with a red-lined version of Andrew Zimmern’s December column, livid about some of the things it contained. Mitch railed. I defended Andrew on many points. We got into a bit of a tiff, which we worked out in about 30 seconds over a nice Cabernet. Then we moved on.

    Before leaving my house, Mitch asked if my editors at The Rake might be interested in publishing his thoughts. I said they might, he should send. So he did and they did and Mitch’s funny, blasphemous and hugely popular Ode to a Sycophant was published early on the morning of December 27.

    Later that same day — around noon, according to the time stamp — Andrew’s Chow & Again appeared responding not to Mitch but to me, referencing a desultory, down-home Top Ten list I’d posted in large part to make a point about these lists being rather ridiculous: subjective, random, and, in most cases, designed to show off what the reviewer knows or where he’s been.

    Zimmern wrote:

    Bauer is a very good writer, more of a craftsperson than I will ever
    be—I am more of a hack. But reading [Breaking Bread] throughout the last
    month and finally seeing Bauer’s piece touring us through the
    highlights of her year of eating was the biggest buzz kill of my day.
    Sample Room? Kinhdo? Coffee News Cafe? Pizza Luce? Atlas Grill? Anne,
    you need to get out and eat more!

    Now, put aside the fact that he misspelled my name repeatedly [note: most, but not all, of these errors have since been corrected, no doubt by MSP’s fact checkers] as well as the confusion about why Andrew happened to be on our site reading and what he actually was upset about. . . .

    There are a few things I’d like to clarify. (Though in truth, I feel as if I’ve been clarifying them for years, and it’s getting pretty damn old.) First off, I AM NOT A FOODIE. I am a food writer who also writes about literature, film, art, culture, history, religion, health, and politics. I often tie these things in, because I believe that food while central to existence should not be central to life. (It’s a fine distinction, I know, but one which I hold strongly.) My 2005 Salon essay "Food Slut" described my position as a food writer — and, by the way, resulted in a truly delightful turn on Zimmern’s now-defunct radio show, Chowhounds — and I posted a blog just a couple weeks ago restating it.

    Second, in order to get a rise out of Andrew Zimmern — let’s face it — I’d have to eat great-spotted lizard eggs or suck down the testicles of an endangered wildebeest. This is a man who travels the world and masticates things I believe should be left to evolve in the wild. . . .or, rarely and only for the sake of study, housed happily inside the glass walls of a terrarium. Not my bag, and how it informs an audience of viewers in Indianapolis or Billings about what to eat, I just cannot parse.

    This brings up another point: I will never knowingly eat food that involved the torture of animals — or the exploitation of people — in its production. This means no foie gras (which I absolutely love) unless someone can assure me the fowl that donated their livers never had their feet nailed to the floor and grain poured through a tube down their throats. Not even in pursuit of the perfect meal. Never.

    Finally, Zimmern suggests The Rake should send me out with more money to dine and runs a list of his own, which includes:

    Patricia Quintana week at Masa

    Heartland on principle and because I love the ‘everything from scratch’ vibe.

    Foie terrine at Cosmos

    Sautéed fish with pickled vegetables at The Teahouse

    Quail with pineapple at 20.21 . . . and brunch as well—the smoked salmon alone is worth it.

    Almost anything at Peninsula

    Morton’s for a salad, a steak, and some creamed spinach

    Oysters at Oceanaire

    Striped bass at Alma

    Everything I ever ate at La Belle Vie, and each time I go there, it gets better and better.

    Mussels and a wedge of pate at the bar at Vincent

    Homestyle tofu at Little Szechuan

    Lunch at Que Nha—you can’t go wrong.

    Passion fruit and chocolate dessert insanity at Chambers, and its truffle pizza and the ridiculously good galangal dipping sauce

    Punch Pizza

    What I find puzzling is this: Why is his pick of Punch Pizza somehow superior to my predilection for Pizza Lucé? And how is that tofu at Little Szechuan hits a higher mark of sophistication than tofu at Kinhdo?

    As it happens, I did go to Vincent this past year and I was
    disappointed (heartbreakingly so, for the first time ever, in both the food and the service) which is why the restaurant didn’t make my list. I love the food at 20.21, always have, but am so fatigued by the noise level it downgrades the dining experience for me. I’m long on record as loving Oceanaire, but as a former East Coaster I prefer to eat my fresh shellfish, er, fresh and by the sea. I went to the Chambers this year and, to be blunt, the décor there gives me the willies, making it tough for me to enjoy my food. And I have been perplexed by Masa — the brightness, the weird layout, the ersatz Chihuly light fixtures, and the high-priced pedestrian fare — since the day it landed on the Nicollet Mall.

    As for Heartland, I adore the restaurant, the wine bar, and the owner, Lenny Russo — with whom I am under contract to write a cookbook about his "everything from scratch" philosophy. I am there often and have written about Russo’s cuisine as recently as December 5.

    I am, moreover, a synesthete, which means my senses intertwine. I see sounds in color, I taste emotions and can identify the flavors of wind, thunder, sun, and rain. Along with this heightened sensitivity goes a tendency to evaluate factors other food crtics might not. If there is a scent coming from the kitchen that does not cohere with my meal, I will be unable to separate the experiences. One wine I tasted recently brought to mind the memory of kissing a baby’s sweet, sweaty neck. A dish like the vegetable salad at the Sample Room, which was on my original list, delights me because it is simple and triangulated: cool greens, warm winter gourds, oily dressing. To me, it evokes hay fields and full October moons, lacy, gray clouds scudding across the darkening sky.

    In other words, a good, hot black bean burrito with goat cheese and homemade corn salsa in a clean, bright lake-facing room after a long motorcycle ride is going to make me happier than all the pomp and whipped beef foam and jangling table service in the world.

    As for Zimmern’s charge that he goes out more and has a bigger expense account: True and true. (So, so true. . . .) My bet is that he dines out 8 to 15 times a week (and is known by the proprietors in 90 percent of these cases), while I go maybe four times and am treated the same way, uh, YOU might be. If there is any limit on Zimmern’s budget — which I doubt — it’s probably still ten times the one I share with Jeremy Iggers to do this blog. One reason for that is that The Rake has less money to throw around because they let us say absolutely anything we think, without regard to how it will affect advertisers, which is what I call journalism.

    But we’re not here to debate the flimsy firewalls at Minnesota’s lifestyle magazines.

    Here’s the truth. I enjoy Andrew Zimmern — a lot. I think he’s funny and smart and raucous and, for that matter, just darn cute. What other middle-aged man do you know who can get away with wearing a suit and red Converse shoes? But it’s never occurred to me that we were competing for audience share. His show is grand and opulent. He travels the world on someone’s full-service jet. He has been shown in the pages of his own magazine sitting in his huge, perfectly-decorated, and photogenic home.

    I, on the other hand, am a woman more like you. A little younger than he and definitely less monied. I live in a little St. Louis Park house that no one is going to feature in a magazine, but I love it because there usually are six or seven teenagers draped over the living room couch. I have a talent for writing and for tasting and if I don’t quite have Zimmern’s globe-trotting flair, I think of myself as serving a different constituency altogether: people like myself and my husband, hardworking professionals and parents for whom a night out at Restaurant Alma (the one place where my list and Zimmern’s overlapped) is a profound and rare treat.

    The way I think of it is this: When Andrew’s followers go out to eat, they talk about the food. But mine? I’m hoping that you, like I, enjoy the meal but discuss more important things. Whether there is a God. What your 16-year-old’s curfew should be. Philip Roth’s latest Zuckerman novel and whether he is the last great Jewish male writer extant.

    Here’s one more thing you should know: I’m not, depite the way I may posture, a cynic. And neither is my colleague, Jeremy Iggers, which is one of the many things I love about working with him. Both of us bring a strong ethical approach to food, and a reverence, if you will, for the fact that we’re surrounded by riches. Restaurants needn’t be brand-new or lushly carpeted or habituated by the so-called "beautiful people" and visiting starlets to impress the two of us.

    We’re big fans of the long-standing Minnesota restaurateurs who’ve been in operation for years, chefs who care about the provenance of the food they prepare, and establishments — both haute cuisine and casual — where diners receive exactly the same high level of service no matter what their color, dress, or station in life.

    Which reminds me: I forgot to add Milda’s Cafe on Glenwood Avenue to my original top ten list. It’s not going to appear on anyone else’s, I guarantee you. But I had one of the most pleasant and inspiring lunches of my life in this little box of a place. I watched people walk in and be greeted by name: black, white, elderly singles, and families with small children. It was as happy and warm and welcoming as anywhere I’ve been. And more to the point of this blog, I had an entire plate of American Fries — diced, golden, grilled potatoes mixed with crisp shards of green pepper and perfect little curls of fried onion — for about three bucks.

    It may not be Morton’s, Andrew. But the company at Milda’s was wonderful. The conversation was uplifting. And the food? Amazing.

  • Ode to a Sycophant

    The above photo is an altered version of "AZ in Action," taken by Sarah McGee.

    Mitch Omer, proprietor of Hell’s Kitchen restaurants in Minneapolis and Duluth, responds to Andrew Zimmern’s Perspective in the December issue of Mpls./St. Paul Magazine:

    "That’s all I can stands, and I can’t stands no more!"
    ~Popeye the Sailor

    Some notes on a critic, his standards, and the obligations of the job:

    What is the proper way for a restaurateur to critique a critic? As
    far as I can tell, there is no such manner. I can only hold back so
    much bile (the result of a gastric bypass, I’m sure), and I must
    regurgitate my feelings about a self-indulgent, self-obsessed,
    self-aggrandizing food writer; a former executive hack (but by his own
    admission, master chef). Master or not, his Café Un Deux Trois in
    Minneapolis, even though a clone of its mother ship in New York, won
    many "best of’s" while open here.

    However, it is with a nagging sense of professional obligation that
    I respond to Andrew Zimmern’s journalistic treasure trove of
    anti-Minneapolis condescension. I suppose I should be filled with a
    sense of self-preservation. As it is, I am filled with a sense of
    outrage, and I finally gave into it.

    "In many ways, the work of a critic is easy; we risk very
    little, yet enjoy a position of those who offer up their work and
    themselves to our judgement. But the bitter truth we critics must
    face, is that in the grand scheme of things, the average piece of junk
    is probably more meaningful than our criticism designates itself."     ~Anton Ego, food critic in the movie Ratatouille

    God forbid, a restaurateur would actually take aim at a critic; this
    would be suicide. This is a tight community, and none would say a
    disparaging word about another. He, however, writes as if above
    reproach, and I am here to tell him that he is not. At Mpls/St.Paul
    magazine, no pretense is made of keeping him in check…and,
    Mpls/St.Paul, just how does he rate a spread about celebrity homes, and
    the only picture we see is of him and his family on a couch? Must be
    one helluva house.

    But I digress. His orations involve an immense waste of time. But,
    like slowing down to look at a morbid and horrifying accident, I read
    his column every month. His gastronomic fatalism sorely tries the
    patience of every chef and restaurateur in Minneapolis. He is
    inaccurate and tremendously negative; a perfect tabloid weapon. But,
    Andrew, you have been playing without an opponent, and I must say, it’s
    my turn at bat.

    A cook does not a critic make, yet A.Z. is a self-professed Alpha
    Male of food writing; one need only go back just a few issues for
    examples of how he dismisses the sophistication of Twin Cities
    residents, making us look as if we never travel outside state lines,
    never try anything except meat and potatoes, don’t know a damn thing
    about unusual ingredients, don’t support innovative restaurants, aren’t
    willing to pay for good food, and are in desperate need of a god-like
    food writer to tell us not only how stupid we are, but also what to
    think from A to Z:

    "My high profile can distort minor aspects of my dining
    experiences, but I’d argue that what I bring to the table in expertise
    and experience more than makes up for it."     ~Andrew Zimmern, Mpls/St.Paul, May, 2007

    Why don’t you let someone, other than yourself, make that decision.
    And how dare you put yourself above more seasoned food writers like
    Jeremy Iggers, Ann Bauer, Kathy Jenkins, Peter Lilienthal, Dara
    Moskowitz, Rick Nelson, Lynne Rosetto Kasper, and let’s not forget the
    late Pam Sherman. There is no objectivity here, only platitude
    prescriptions for whatever ails you each month. Take a booster shot of
    your own medicine, dude, you’ll feel better in a day or so.

    "The transcendent restaurant must hit the Trifecta: It must be
    good, original, AND successful."     ~ Andrew Zimmern, Mpls/St.Paul, Dec
    2007

    Lemme see. You all but got down on your knees and sucked the
    gastronomic dick of Aquavit, "…goat cheese parfait with blueberry
    sorbet and passion fruit curd. Wow!" Lotta guys from Anoka going to
    order that malady. And then, when they had to fold up operations
    because they were months behind in rent, owing purveyors, and not
    paying staff, you denigrated the city for not being supportive of such
    a grandiose, transcendent restaurant. Two out of three ain’t bad I
    suppose, even if they didn’t meet your criteria for the
    Trifecta. Bifecta? I think not. Stupid fucking elitist? I think so.
    Monofecta…

    "We thrive on negative journalism, which is fun to write and to read." ~Anton Ego, from the movie, Ratatouille

    A.Z. bludgeons local eateries with a blunt instrument: his pen, the
    journalistic equivalent of keying a car. From his "Perspective"
    column, he writes:


    "Frank Brini’s brutal review of Harry Cipriani on Fifth Avenue
    (NYC), is proof positive of how fun it is to wield a poison pen…awesome    ." ~Andrew Zimmern, Mpls/St.Paul, Nov 2007

    This is only a small tribunal of scorned restaurants, and I quote:

    "Most of this year’s crops are conundrums wrapped in
    half-baked concepts. Crave is a fancified Green Mill and not as good,
    Picosa is missing identity, Bank under whelms, and Amazing Thai fails
    to rumble me. Black Bamboo, Café Ena, Harry’s, Fogo de Chao, Spill the
    Wine, Café Maude, Wasabi, Bulldog NE, Bagu, Toast, Manhattan’s, and
    Landmarc all fail to rouse me from my desk. Need I continue?…I will not
    fall into the trap of some of my peers who canonize such places on the
    basis of pedigree."     ~Andrew Zimmern, Mpls/St.Paul, Dec 2007

    Should we canonize YOU on the basis of pedigree? Could YOU stand
    up to such biased observation? Let’s see. Most of this year’s
    observations are a conundrum wrapped in half-baked journalistic
    concepts.

    Just for fun today, I went to his Chow and Again blog, where he
    lambasts a press release announcing a new menu at a gentleman’s club.
    Yes, a ‘Gentleman’s Club’; expensive drinks and powdered tits for the
    expense account crowd. Press releases being, by their very nature, a
    marketing tool, this one seemed fairly straightforward, explaining the
    new menu that would start January 1: "Dinner selections will include a
    42-oz. USDA prime Porterhouse, kobe beef hot dogs, colossal shrimp…etc.
    All affordably priced. The kitchen will use the freshest ingredients
    and…try to appeal to a larger guest base."

    But Zimmern finds he must tear apart even a simple press release:

    "Holy crap! Does someone actually get paid to write that
    junk? Is that the best point of difference the owners can come up with?
    Oy vey."     ~Andrew Zimmern, ChowAndAgain.com

    Oy-fucking-vey yourself! Please, allow me to ‘tell it like it is’.
    You are pre-disposed here to a negative review of the club’s offerings,
    even though you, by your own admission, have not dined at the
    restaurant. "Holy crap!" I say. "Does someone actually pay you to write
    this junk? Is that the best point of difference you can come up with?"
    I doubt it.

    Now, I’m anal-retentive, obsessive-compulsive and manic-depressive,
    (and, probably a few more hyphenated maladies), so researching this
    shit is right up my alley. I just couldn’t resist. Further down on this
    self-absorbed blog, I found one of his little secrets…asking his blog
    readers for their input, since he was too busy to attend some events.
    (Don’t believe me? I quote Zimmern himself, "Any great pull quotes you
    heard from the recent Anthony Bordain visit to Minneapolis? I was in
    NYC doing the Today Show, so I couldn’t attend.") Hey MSP editors, who
    ya paying?"

    But then it got good…I found out I’m not alone! I discovered a
    website called "Chowhound" that was upset at Zimmern for snagging their
    moniker. Readers were almost unanimous in their, um, "reservations"
    about our local-boy-made-big-TV-foodstar really being a poseur. A few
    of their comments:

    "…has anyone else noticed that he never touches the food with his
    lips? He always sort of cowboys up and puts it on his tongue or throws
    it into his mouth. Which is not only gross to watch; this is clear body
    language saying that he doesn’t want to eat the things he’s eating on
    his show. So watching him do that for a half hour while he goes
    ‘…mmmm…’ unconvincingly makes me think he’s a big fat liar when he
    says he loves food. I am not buying."

    "… he never enjoys the food or even acts like he’s eating it for
    real. He puts it in his mouth much like someone who doesn’t want to.
    Ever seen Bourdain eat anything like that? No. The man eats it, chews
    it, tastes it. Anyways. I guess the Discovery channel execs like it –
    so it’s on the air. But like Bourdain says, ‘I give him one season
    tops.’ "

    Where does this cat come from, and just what do the execs see in
    him? Lack of good journalism leaves a hole in his articles and food
    blog. If you swallow any of this offal, do not induce vomiting. Take
    two Bauers immediately, and read Jeremy Iggers in the morning. Andrew,
    in his Andrew way, has razed restaurants chef by chef. Some owners
    survive, but nothing major on the scene is older than Solera.

    "If we can’t recommend a restaurant, we don’t write about it,
    so a long-term absence from our pages does imply something."     ~Andrew
    Zimmern, Mpls/StPaul, May, 2007

    How fucking dare you! Long term absence from your pages tells us
    only that your Id-ridden alimentary tract is represented as detritus,
    and has nothing to do with objective journalism. A.Z.’s standard
    take-out order is two negative reviews, an anti-Minneapolis with
    cheese, and a small perspective to go. Can I super-size that for you?

    "For years, I have wondered why someone who criticizes a
    restaurant for being ordinary or derivative is derided by fellow
    Minnesotans for being unsupportive of our restaurant community. I think
    when we ‘call ‘em as we see ‘em’, we are holding the restaurant
    community to a higher standard."     ~ Andrew Zimmern, Mpls/St.Paul, Dec
    2007

    For years, I have wondered why someone who criticizes a restaurant
    critic for being ordinary or derivative is told to simply shut the fuck
    up…or suffer the consequences. When I "call ‘em as I see ‘em", I am
    holding the critical community to a higher standard. He is too smug,
    too pseudo-objective, and wouldn’t stand up to any reciprocal reviews.
    He has yet to capture the gestalt, the big picture, of food service in
    Minneapolis.

    "…lying to ourselves when we’re merely marking time serves no
    productive end, least of all towards bettering our future food
    experiences."     ~Andrew Zimmern, Mpls/St.Paul, Dec
    2007

    You seem to lack a fresh, clear, well-seasoned perspective. If, as
    they say, we are what we eat, well, crow is my second choice for you
    here… From his blog recently about appearing on the Tonight Show with
    Jay Leno    , he writes:

    "There is only so much personal grand-standing one can dole out, even on a blog, where blowing your own horn is
    ‘de rigueur,’ par for the course, and standard operating procedure…" ~    Andrew Zimmern, Nov 15, 2007

    Yeah, well, blow this horn! Personally, I am over-Zimmerned and
    under-whelmed. He seems possessed with his own ego, and I say, "Ban
    thee Satan from this body, and exorcise the evil within." As for me,
    I’ll get down on my knees and pray to St. Jude, patron saint of lost
    causes. Such is my fate. The fallout from this diatribe could be
    catastrophic, given his "high profile" of magazine columns, blogs,
    television show appearances, et al. I wish he’d leave the writing to
    better journalists, and continue to roam the globe eating bugs on the
    Travel channel.

    This article pretty well eliminates the possibility of any positive
    reviews I may ever get, but, like that second piece of pie at
    Thanksgiving, which you are already too full to eat, you go ahead, and
    suffer the consequences later. Such is my plight. I’ve never had the
    ability, or maturity, to qualm my passions, good or bad. I’ll have to
    suffer the fallout from this diatribe. So be it, there’s always another
    slice of pie…

    Warmest personal regards,
    Mitch Omer

    For the record, neither Zimmern nor Mpls/St. Paul Magazine has ever
    critiqued my restaurant because of a policy to only review
    establishments that offer dinner service, which my restaurant does not.
    As a result of this policy, there has never been anything written,
    negative or otherwise, that might personally taint my opinion of Andrew
    Zimmern.