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, August 04, 2006

Blue Hill: Hi Ho The Dairy, Yo

Well Frank's review of Blue Hill was like Blue Hill itself: muted and wholesome,

Like this pilgrim, the inventor of the hen-operated savings bank.

“It was a kitchen delivery, but it was also theater” Frank begins.

Is he referring to Chef Bobo, the riotous chef/mime I ordered to my nephew Toby’s birthday party?

He was hilarious. Everything was mimed...


Except the crème brulee torch. Whoops. RIP Tobes!

No, the theater this time was courtesy of Blue Hill chef Dan Barber, although still somewhat macabre:

“In came Mr. Barber [to the restaurant], toting yet another bit of bounty from that farm, up in Westchester. It was cradled against his chest and wrapped in a blanket…”

Aww, a baby!

“Mr. Barber had the carcass of a lamb”

A baby lamb, that is. (PS sorry that this punchline required us to venture into Twisted Dead Lamb Imageville.)

Frank justifies upping Grimes' 2 stars to 3 because Barber's expanded his farm operation and his sources are more immediate, leading to food that is superfresh, superfarmy, and simply done:

"An especially memorable dinner at Blue Hill began with a shot glass of pale tomato water so concentrated it was like some Platonic ideal of nourishment."

Plato's actual ideal of nourishment.

Fine, that was unwarranted. But despite the wholesomeness of Frank's review, Tomatoes did get a little raunchy:

"Tomatoes came into play again later on: ...bouncy tomatoes and supple tomatoes, ... mixed into a salad that charted a whole spectrum of tomato possibility, from modestly tart to immodestly sweet."

Immodest tomatoes? What is Frank talking about?


Oh. Well. Excuse me, I... had no idea.

Throw in some "romantic" upholstery...


...and Frank's in 3-star love.

Now for a little bonus treat, because many of you are suffering tit-searing heat (and I'm safely out of the sweat zone at the North Pole) I thought I'd spread a little joy.

Gawker unearthed a Steve Guttenberg/Village People clip that was, yes, amazing. But I'm seeing Gawker and raising them one with this forgotten Guttenberg trailer. Put an ice tray in your pants, sit on your AC box, and enjoy this clip, below, over and over again. Honestly, I don't know what's better, the confessional narrative structure or the multi-tier, feathered rat tail.

1 Comments:

Anonymous Justin said...

Wow. I want to make this trailer my own. You win.

Also, you are missed and all that.

2:44 PM, August 08, 2006  

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