Two recent stories in the national food press have given ELV pause.
Both concern the attitudes and arrogance of “hot” restaurants when it comes to serving the public.
One, called Rogue 24 in Washington, D. C. serves 24-course “journey” menus (taking over three hours) and requires its patrons to sign a two-page contract.
The second concerns a service nightmare endured by Alan Richman at a hot New York hipster hangout, which led to a laughable, illogical allegation by the restaurant that he had harassed a waitress by firmly patting her ass during his visit. (ELV will believe Richman goes around swatting waitresses’ asses when he sees Michelle Obama in a porn film.)
Both indicate to Eating Las Vegas there is something deeply wrong with the hip, casual craze that has infected restaurants from coast to coast — even when it’s serving you a three-hour meal.
On the one hand, off-hand, unprofessional inattentiveness is expected — almost displayed as a badge of honor — at cool-at-all-costs (or “too cool to care” as Richman puts it) joints catering to younger crowds. On the other, you have cocky restaurateurs so impressed with their instant success, it’s like they’ve ingested an cocktail of hubris that allows them to put anything but the customer first.
Thankfully, we live and eat in Las Vegas. Say what you will about our restaurant scene, but the professionalism of our hospitality industry is the best in the world.
As for ELV, when he gets a hankerin’ to cop feels and pat asses, he does what every man in Vegas does: he goes swimming.