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.

Tuesday, January 24, 2006

The Count poses as a WAITER??

The Bruni Digest is not out to unmask people, has never posted images of the Count, and frankly, the only scooping I have ever done usually occurs on my neighbors' lawn and involves some quantity of dogpoop. However, curiosity has got the better of me, and I have to ask, what's THIS tip that I just got all about?:

A young man writes that he is a waiter at a restaurant in Cambridge, Mass., where this past Saturday "none other than Mr Bruni just completed a scandalous run posing as a waiter to find the story on the other side of the table. Mr Bruni, or Gavin White as he was introduced to me, seemed intent on his identity remaining secret."

But WHY? This makes no sense!

"He came to Massachusetts because he did not want in his words '.. the New York gossip columns' to get a hold of this story."

Huh. Only tomorrow's Times will tell, I guess, if he indeed is doing a behind-the-scenes waiter article. He is, after all, on a bit of a public service kick.

So...did anybody in Cambridge, Mass have a burger chucked at them by THIS GUY?


Blogger sabatkes said...

You have got to be joking! Can't wait to see the Times tomorrow.

12:17 AM, January 25, 2006  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

As far as I can tell, you scooped everyone. You're right: Bruni went undercover as a waiter as East Coast Grill! Congratulations.

1:44 AM, January 25, 2006  
Blogger robylyn said...

just read bruni and he was a waiter. humble is he behind the apron. but at the end it is obvious he doesn't really care what waiters do. he will still bitch about the service. As he should. From now on, I'll know I'm doing my waiter proud to: not bounce in my chair, study the menu, continue to leave 20% tips (10% for shoddy service) learn the specials as I get in and learn my waiters name. Just treat them as I always have. It took Bruni a week to learn about that do unto

1:34 PM, January 25, 2006  
Blogger robylyn said...

Bruni as waiter humbling, but wait, not humbling. Just reaffirming that he treats them right. Why he never jumps up and down in his seat. He doesn't make waiters do menu tour or other terrible things also known as part of the job. Amazing that he could know so little about such a major portion of his career (as opposed to job ie. waiter).

1:37 PM, January 25, 2006  
Anonymous djg said...

So Bruni worked at the ECG. I worked with him. He didn't / wasn't able to do the job completely. He did take it seriously and his article didn't screw any of the waiters who actually need the jobs We told him some crazy stuff, including things we're grateful he had the good sense not to mention.Thanks Gavin. Now I won't have to scratch your eyes out.

9:32 PM, January 25, 2006  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Firstly. Your blog makes me forget all my hard-earned toilet training. Also my girl scout badge in Not Shooting Diet Coke Out Nose While Surfing Internet has been revoked.

Nextly. I was a restaurant reviewer for a snotty but useful little book called "The Unofficial Guide to Life at Harvard" a few years ago, and the restaurants would send the guide a little yellow slip that said "Two reviewers can eat here for free, no limit, signed, person in charge." So some friend and I would put on our cleanest Harvard sweatshirts and least nasty Birkenstocks and head to Aquitaine or Sonsie's or some other posh Boston spot. The looks the waiters gave us were priceless, I tell you. They're like, wait, why are these feckless, hobotastic excuses for college students ordering three lobsters? Apiece? Then they'd figure it out at about the 5th bottle of Perrier, and start being reeeeally nice to us. But I bet if M. le Comte had been our waiter, our game would have been up as soon as we walked in the door. He'd plunk the special in front of us, stand there arms crossed while we ate it, looking over our notes, with a "No, no, mes enfants, BISQUE has a Q in it. B-I-S-Q-U-E, like odalisque, or Rubenesque. Run along now..."

10:42 PM, January 25, 2006  

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