It was with great sadness that I read of the impending closure of the best restaurant in the world. Many’s the time I’d stop by after work for a couple of fruit-leather beetles and a grilled reindeer heart. That was some good eating.
But nothing stays the same in this world, does it? Chef René Redzepi (“Red Zep” to his friends) made it work for two decades, what with great word-of-mouth among the uber-wealthy and not paying the help. A man just gets tired, that’s all.
What’s the most you ever paid for a meal? Four of us once went to a chi-chi place in Louisville, and the check came to just under $800. I came out thinking, “OK, not doing that again.” The food was excellent, sure, but $200 a pop seemed a betrayal of my rural roots. I could imagine the dismay of my Mom, who would balk at the cost of pretty much anything on a Wendy’s menu.
By contrast, the best restaurant meal I can remember was at a pizza place in Chicago, now defunct. The bill for three of us that night would not get you a glass of water at the Noma, the best restaurant in the world.
But at that level – three Michelin stars, three thumbs up from Elon Musk (who recently purchased an additional thumb) – it’s not about the price. I wonder if it’s really even about the food. It’s about creating something so rarified and inaccessible (and hopefully edible) that people who partake of it can feel the same way. It’s why certain people buy new Lamborghini’s when a used Honda Civic can perform exactly the same function.
Maybe by now you’ve seen The Menu. It lampoons this very thing: Food as high art, artisté chefs who despise their patrons. In it, Ralph Fiennes rephrases an observation about haute cuisine that sums it up nicely. Don’t remember the exact line, but it goes something like this:
No matter how exquisite the meal when going in, it always comes out as …
Well, you get the picture.
I’ll have the planks, thanks
Give me liberty, and give me dinner
Casserole. It’s what’s for dinner.
It’s hard to pick a favorite restaurant meal (or maybe just hard to remember them well enough to choose!). The best are usually a combination of the food, the setting, and the company.
The Mrs. and I like to eat, and we like to try new things sometimes, but we have an informal “Is it worth it?” standard. High prices or long wait times – nope. Not worth it even if the food were spectacular. There are better things to spend money on, and life is too short to stand in line for 3 hours for a meal. Plus, there are always other options – old standbys or new places that don’t require such an investment.
My mom was much like your mom, but I get a chuckle from my aunt’s attitude. Maybe it was her time as a New Yorker, or maybe it’s just her contrariness, but she seems to think there must be something wrong with a place that doesn’t charge at least 30 bucks, minimum, per entrée.
I agree! I’ll pay what it takes and tip generously, but standing in line for anything is anathema to me. As you say, there’s no shortage of decent eateries.
Just the other day I thought, when is Dave going to publish another Fiction Warehouse piece? Low and behold, not one, but FOUR dropped! That’s lottery playing luck! They were all so good, and now my expectations are high. As they say, “Keep ’em coming.”
Thank you, M. I’m committed at least until March, when I conduct my annual review of my life choices.