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.

Wednesday, May 03, 2006

August: As "Urban Rustic" as a pooped-on Blackberry

Bruni titled his visit to crammed and rezzie-denying restaurant August “A Waiting Game with Savory Rewards.”

Below, a waiting game with unsavory rewards.


Alright, so August is good, rustic and crowded. But in the end, this review was a bit of a snooze. Or maybe it just seems that way what with Buddakan on the horizon.

Don’t mean I can’t make cheap visual jokes!

YAAAAAY for uselessly hilarious images!

Frank begins:
"SITTING at a table just inside the restaurant August on a recent night, I was struck by two things."

A shovel and a bra?? A brick and a thesaurus?? I give up!

“The first was the look on the faces of many of the people who walked in. The second thing that struck me was how many diners had decided that August was worth the gamble.”

Oh. That’s no fun.

“Like many dishes at August, [an onion tart] had come from the restaurant's wood-burning brick oven, ideal for anything with a pizzalike crust.”

Oscar de la Renta hops in there twice a week!

“It make-a me so brown!”

“August layers rustic accent atop rustic accent, to the point where you just might forget you aren't in Provence or Tuscany, at least until a hipster poster girl like the actress Maggie Gyllenhaal strolls in, as she did on that recent night.”

Gotta give Maggie credit for trying to blend. And that Peter Saarsgaard is such a doll!

"The distressed plaster walls of the restaurant look like centuries-old stone, and wine bottles are wedged into various crannies, an artful pantomime of artlessness."

An artful pantomime of depression.

"The absence of ceremony (no reservations) suits the countrified visual details, which in turn complement the full-flavored, straightforward cooking"

Absence of ceremony?? Frank obviously didn’t order the Puglian Bridal Cake, in which you are served a rich ricotta-filled tart, andthen quickly circumcised before a burning pyre.

The dragon head represents the absence of anesthetics!

August's chef used to be narrower in its culinary focus, but "over time he's moved August from a tight focus on France, Italy and Spain to a broader, looser orientation."

Now he’s gay.

I’m gonna go throw myself in the Hudson now, but expect Buddakan up today. Consider this belated August post the amuse-bouche, or "fanny laugher," for the delicious entree which will be Buddakan...


Anonymous Anonymous said...

Very nice, but I can hardly wait for your take on Buddakan. That's a field day waiting to happen.

12:48 PM, May 03, 2006  

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