Confession may be good for the soul, but it’s probably not the best way to begin a restaurant review. But in the spirit of full disclosure, certain things must be acknowledged: I haven’t been a fan of Dallas, Texas since November 22, 1963. When you combine the horrific events of that day with an general dislike of Cowboys (I’m a Giants fan), big hair and bigger belt buckles, you could say this city on the Trinity River ain’t exactly my cup of chili. The fact that I haven’t been here in twenty-five years has kept these prejudices firmly entrenched, even though this city has now outgrown them by such a degree that thinking of Dallas as a cow town is like referring to Manhattan as a Dutch trading post.
Category: John Mariani
Food Friends are the Best Kind
God gave us the gift of life; it is up to us to give ourselves the gift of living well. – Voltaire
These two fellows (John Mariani and Alan Richman) have forgotten more about food than I will ever know. I am proud to call each of them my friend.
Bare Naked Tables by John Mariani
St. John, London
ELV note: The original of this article first appeared in John Mariani’s Virtual Gourmet. Click here to read it in its original format, or continue perusing below.
Anyone who has dined out with me knows that, unless I’m eating at the proverbial hole in the wall, I tend to groan over the lack of what was once the simplest amenity in a restaurant: a tablecloth.