Mr. Carmellini is what successful chefs in New York used to be like before they became rock stars. Think of him as George Martin among the Beatles, elegantly expressing his vision from behind the scenes.
Three weeks ago, Mr. Puck unveiled an entirely reinvented Spago Beverly Hills, with a décor he describes as “edgy,” a soundtrack of Arcade Fire and Spoon, and a menu sprinkled with adventurous small-plate offerings that have some of his bluer-hair customers wincing.
- New York Times: Kanye West flew you to Vegas in a private jet. What’s it like?
- Skrillex: It was big, and it was fancy, and it had really hot stewardesses serving food, and his entourage was basically similar to mine, a bunch of guys on laptops working nonstop all the time, and so was he. He works hard, too, man.
- New York Times: You get something better than a cold sandwich on Air Kanye?
- Skrillex: They brought out a lot of, like, decadent desserts and definitely really fancy-looking stuff, sushi and tempura and filet mignon, if you wanted.
Mr. Bowien does to Chinese food what Led Zeppelin did to the blues. His cooking both pays respectful homage to its inspiration and takes wild, flagrant liberties with it. He grabs hold of tradition and runs at it with abandon, hitting the accents hard, going heavy on the funk and causing all kinds of delicious havoc.
Pete Wells in his 2 Star New York Times Review of Mission Chinese
Nothing I tasted at Hakkasan was unpleasant, but when the check easily surpassed $100 a person, it was hard not to feel cheated. It was like buying scalped tickets to see Anna Netrebko at the Met and then finding out that she would be performing the Katy Perry songbook.
NYT Food Critic Pete Wells
I used to spend five hours in a record store looking for albums. Now everything’s online. But I can’t find artisanal sausage online and eat it right away. Maybe food markets are the vintage record shops of 2012. There’s something attractive about finding something no one else has, but then sharing it. I was sending text messages to all my friends in the neighborhood to come out. With a record, you’d keep it for yourself.
I didn’t give a fuck whether there was a table cloth, two forks, and maitre d, I wanted to know who was in the God damn room, what music they’re playing… I want to know that M. Wells “recalls the moment when Greg Ginn, of the punk band Black Flag, wore a Grateful Dead shirt onstage.” And in the same vein, Sifton’s time at Dining was like Snoop rockin’ Tommy Hill on Letterman for hip hop heads.
Chef Eddie Huang on Sam Sifton’s tenure as NYT Food Critic