The Bruni Digest

In which I sit on a dirt mound somewhere in Brooklyn with my ears pricked, waiting for New York Times head restaurant critic Frank Bruni, who I imagine to be a Venetian count in a huge ruffled collar, to dole out stars from the inside breast pocket of his brocaded chamber robe. This blog is predicated on the suggestion that every Wednesday, in the Times Dining Out section, Frank lays a huge faberge egg of hilarity.

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Location: New York, New York, U.S. Outlying Islands

I am fiscally irresponsible, which means I have weak bones and a dorsal fin. And a penchant for dining out, even though I am, in the words of many rich people, a "poor people". I make a different face when speaking each of the foreign languages in which I am shittily proficient.

Friday, June 17, 2005

Stanton Social: Best of the Best Mediocrity

Frank’s review of the Stanton Social this week begins not with food (surprise!) but with a discussion of how, these days, thanks mostly to technology, we can boil everything down to exactly what we want:

“Ours is a culture of all favorites and no filler. Bookmarks weed the Internet into a garden of our liking. Digital video recorders allow us to forsake any one network or night for a lineup of our choosing to be watched whenever we choose. IPods let us filter diverse bands and genres for only the catchiest tunes.”

He went on to explain how buttons work and what toilet paper was for.

But The Count has a point. When I was a wee tivo-less twatling, idling my afternoons away before the tube, I would have to sit through MASH if I wanted Golden Girls. Or if I wanted to watch “Tin Cup” on TNT (my favorite movie for many years, including this one) I was going to have to watch another brain-retarding episode of "Rodeos Gone Wrong 8" or “Tornados that Swallow Dogs IVXCCM.”

“’Go outside and pee, Ralphie!’ Elaine Goodbottom urged her Spaniel, in a tragic lapse of judgment.”

But today, the kids can just GOOGLE their dreams, TIVO their fantasies, and GEORGE FORMAN their tits. There’s no discipline!

So in the spirit of reduction, I am going to comment on Frank Bruni’s review of Stanton Social in Haiku form—no filler, no jabber, just the salient heart of things.

Stanton Social's hectic menu "doesn't dawdle anywhere or dwell on anything.”

Is for you what cigarettes
Were to peg bundy

“[Stanton Social] bolts to Mexico to assemble a few tacos, then zips to Japan, wok-charred edamame in its sights. It touches down in Thailand to infuse a broth below steamed clams with lemongrass, then pivots to New England to scratch an itch for lobster rolls.”

Let us hope the itch
Was not in Frank's pants. Lobster:
Do not castrate him!

But also, relax, Carmen San Diego, you’re giving me a headache. Bolt, zip, touch, infuse, pivot, and scratch? Maybe your giving me more than a headache. Sounds like the actions of a perverted basketball player with a lottery ticket.

“The Stanton Social, in other words, stages an orgy of hors d'oeuvres.”

Always one left out.
Wienie bangs devilled egg: crab
Cake waits to jump in.

"It's the perfect restaurant for the commitment phobic and not a bad place for diners with attention deficits.”

Billy Bob Thornton
And Robin Williams dining?
I just peed from fright.

“[insert aggressive stream of consciousness rant, including at least one Viagra joke and 75 accents]”

“Take his onion soup dumplings, which epitomize the way he cobbles together unrelated traditions - in this case, French and Chinese - and tweaks staples, changing their contours or contexts.”

French and Chinese: Who
Would have thought to combine them????!!!!
(besides HISTORY)

“Each of these dumplings has a hot liquid center, a Gruyère-drizzled exterior and is meant to be hoisted with a toothpick and consumed in one big, flavor-detonating bite. The subsequent explosion is wonderful.”

Even a newborn
Would read this and go,
“massive orgasm.”

Frank's "Best Of" hypothesis confuses me a bit. We can program the catchiest tunes, get the best shows, etc., but he basically thinks this place is mediocre. If it was hard for you to discern that through sixteen buckets of sexual innuendo and small anthropological treatise on the impact of technology, then you can pretty much tell by the lone star-shaped loogie he left on the Stanton stoop.

P.S. Hey Frank: I love you and all, but don’t get all lazy with the language and make me jump ship to the blogs I’ve been flirting with in the back of my mind, thingsmybrotherwouldcallgay and letterstocelebritiesaskingthemtobuymestuff. Remember who you are, Frank, and don’t let jerks like me bully you away from mind-melting metaphors and alliteration. When kids made fun of me for trying to change my name to "Little Rabbit" in 5th grade, did I stop? Yes. Yes I did. But you're not at risk of getting your ass beat.




Anonymous Anonymous said...

Is anyone else aware of how much hot gruyere Bruni spewed over George W. Bush in the journalistic lead-up to the 2000 Presidential election?

Spoofing his dining columns is like taking away Hilter's driving privileges.

4:07 PM, June 19, 2005  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

s anyone else aware of how much hot gruyere Bruni spewed over George W. Bush in the journalistic lead-up to the 2000 Presidential election?

Spoofing his dining columns is like taking away Hilter's driving privileges.

4:07 PM

8:36 PM, June 19, 2005  
Blogger Jules said...

Exactly. I intend to make SURE that Hitler NEVER drives again, no matter how unlikely it may seem that he will. We can't get lazy about these things. Additionally, we must remain vigilant that Beethoven keep his mitts off that box-cutter and that Maria Callas is sequestered far from any sort of tack merchant, thumb or otherwise. Anonymous, you bring a very important cause of mine to light: for more information, please visit and consider donating to

Thank you for your time.

2:37 PM, June 20, 2005  
Anonymous pooper said...

Yo what WAS his political coverage like? Is hot gruyere good or bad? I love hot gruyere. Mmmmm.

5:33 PM, June 20, 2005  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

listen jules, you're a funny girl, but don't pussyfoot around politics. bruni is a fucking douchebag with all the conscience of rocco dispirito after he traded his mama's moustache hairs in a baggie for a dimebag of avenue c blow.

11:51 PM, June 21, 2005  
Blogger Doctor Barnett said...

Let’s leave politics — and Barbra Streisand! — out of this. I don't want to see Jules get distracted from this week’s hot pink (not pinko) review.

8:14 AM, June 22, 2005  

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