I’ll have you know, despite my tendency to use the word “fuck” and my inclinations toward beer as opposed to tea or sherry or whatever it is that fancy people are supposed to drink, I’m something of fan of fine dining.
I wouldn’t go so far as to call myself a “foodie,” but that’s mainly because I hate that word and feel that in its present state of overuse it’s come to mean anyone who puts edible items in or near their suckholes.
Nevertheless, I enjoy an elaborate evening of dining and whereas it seems to be fashionable these days to slam the sort of pretentious restaurants that might be so bold as to suggest that eating with them is an “experience,” this is in fact exactly the sort of thing I go for when I’m out for a nice meal.
I like to hear about the rotating cocktail menu, I like knowing where the produce on hand was grown, and yes, if you’ve got it handy, I will read the credit report of the cow whom I’m about to eat a chunk of between two buns, thanks. Continue reading “How to lose my business at your restaurant”