Where Have All The Diners Gone?

For those skeptics who believed that New York would become a culinary wasteland in the wake of the economic tsunami, well, you're not all wrong.  The recent closings/announced closings of restaurants like Fiamma and Fleur de Sel speaks to a market oversaturated with haute cuisine and undersaturated with cheap eats.  Every day a new closing hits the press, and even the most hailed and established spots are not immune.  Yesterday's New York Times reported that Chanterelle and Gotham Bar and Grill, two New York landmarks, have experienced marked sales drops this January.  And by marked, I mean a drop in sales between 10 and 15 percent.  These restaurants have survived decades of muddy city water.  But survival, even for the fittest, looks bleaker and bleaker these days. 

I'm going to throw a little blame in the direction of the New York Times.  I believe that this moment in time is different from any other moment in the past 20 years.  I believe that this is no mere changed current of economic insecurity; it's a veritable tidal wave.  I believe that New York has to do what it can to stay in the black, even if that means switching out truffles for tacos.  

But I also believe that a complete shift away from fine dining will mean a final and inevitable change in the way we dine.  The luxuries of sitting in a quiet room with nice things will no longer be a luxury afforded the average American.  Do we really want the Chanterelles and Gotham Bar and Grills of the world to close?  Do we really want to sever all ties with the uncommon opulence of classic restaurants? 

These places are sanctuaries and, like any other sanctuaries, they deserve our attention and attempts at preservation.  We put plaques in the silliest of places, honoring the land that our forefathers tread upon hundreds of years ago.  But we dismiss the importance of dining rooms that have played host to our most important Americans, our presidents, our writers, our personal heroes.  No one would ever dream of suggesting we fell the Metropolitan Museum of Art, no matter how bad things get.  Why, then, do we ignore our restaurants when they, too, preserve memories and artifacts of life in this city?

It's Frank Bruni I really want to take to task here.  Week after week, Mr. Bruni reviews tirelessly, offering a do-or-die opinion of New York's scene.  Lately, his reviews have become downright predictable.  If you happen to run a restaurant in the east village, and if your aim is more causal and less haute, you, too can receive two stars from the New York Times.  For the past few years, Bruni has tried his hardest to reestablish the criteria for good eating in the city.  And while such brute ambition is admirable, ambition for ambition's sake alone is not enough.  I understand wanting to make food and restaurants more approachable.  I understand plebian-izing fine dining.  Ok.  I get it.  I do not, however, understand why making the lower end cool must come at the cost of making the higher end suffer. 

I consider yesterday's review the perfect example.  Every review I have stumbled across touted the virtues of the recently renovated and reopened Oak Room in the Plaza Hotel.  It's a restaurant that speaks volumes of New York's history; what little girl didn't own Eloise growing up?

The Oak Room also happens to be the quintessential old New York dining experience, replete with ornate dining room touches, tablecloths, silver, china.  It is the kind of restaurant that is supposed to remind us of the kind of place that this city used to be: dazzling, majestic, opulent, fancy.  It is the kind of restaurant that no doubt stirs in people the same nostalgia I feel when I think back on all the lovely and fancy Chinese restaurants I dined at as a child back before Chinese meant greasy takeout, where the bowls were porcelain and the chopsticks like ivory, where Shirley Temples came in fluted glasses, where lychees and stemmed maraschino cherries arrived with the check.  There is a certain other-worldliness to places like these, reminding us of a past that has all but disappeared in this fast and furious digital age. 

Mr. Bruni gave the Oak Room--who was no doubt reaching for three fine stars--a pathetic one.  Despite all of those other reviews I read, the ones that discussed the technical brilliance of the Oak Room's food, Bruni's single star may be the review that resonates.  

And so people will stop going because, in an economy like this, why would they waste their time and money on a place that Mr. Bruni believes is far from achieving greatness?  And as our critic continues to review the cheaper haunts on the New York beat, people will stop caring about the finer restaurants because they will believe that in an era like this you aren't supposed to care about things like fine dining. The thing is, the cheaper places, well, they would have survived anyway, just like the local pubs will do just fine.  Now, more than ever, it's the pricier places that need a plug.  

I hold critics to high standards.  I've seen how a critics 500 words can affect the welfare of a restaurant.  The juggernaut of economic loss cannot be controlled or remedied by any one person, but if we value the style of dining that has defined us as a city and if we believe that the future holds a place for these restaurants just as it holds a place for the funkier and fussier molecular gastronomy hangouts, we have to protect what is ours.  In that respect, I think Mr. Bruni has failed miserably in communicating what it will mean if the most important places here cease to exist.  

I love ramen just as much as the next blogger, but I'm not prepared to face a Tokoyan future, where tablecloths are replaced with quick-fix noodle bowls and pork buns.  There is room in this fragile world for remembrance of decadence past.  It is a small window, but it still exists.  For now. 

The Black Plague

Yesterday morning, right around get-up-and-get-your-coffee time, Eater.com announced what most of us in the industry regarded as very big news.  Fiamma, the twice-incarnated B R Guest Italian Mecca in SoHo would be closing.  For good.  

Fiamma (originally known as Fiamma Osteria) was first reviewed in 2002 by William Grimes, the infamous New York Times restaurant critic who would eventually groom his protege, Frank Bruni, to take over the post.  Grimes awarded Fiamma and its chef, Michael White, three glistening stars o' Italian bliss.  

Bruni went back to Fiamma in the fall of 2007, once Michael White, setting sail for Scott Conant's L'Impero an Alto, was replaced by Washington D.C. import Fabio Trabocchi.  Bruni's review revealed a dazzling culinary performance by Trabocchi, plenty of organ meat and unexpected menu twists, an allegiance to Italy without a reliance upon traditional dishes that so often become public pleasers.  The little red monster, the Michelin Guide, also awarded Fiamma a coveted--and rare--single star during that same season.  

But in March of last year, Bruni followed up on his glowing three star review, offering pointed criticism to Fiamma, who had raised their prices in the wake of good press.  Once marketers of the $75 prix fixe meal, Fiamma boosted the dollar signs to a prohibitive $92 prix fixe meal, roughly the same price charged for a five course tasting menu at four star Jean Georges.  

They eventually dropped their prices again, and this fall Fiamma introduced a different kind of option, less expensive and more traditional "comfort" foods for American diners suffering from market collapse syndrome.  The bargain basement idea did not work and yesterday Steve Hanson, the restauranteur responsible for such monstrosities as Blue Water Grill and Ruby Foo's (the uptown branch of which was also a casualty in yesterday's Black Wednesday budget cuts) announced his plan to close what had always been regarded as B R Guest's star player. 

I've heard through the grapevine that the closings has some people down, most notably the company's wine director, Laura Maniec, who spent a great deal of time emphasizing quality Italian wine matched by superior wine service at Fiamma.  Certainly none of the group's other large/loud/lacquered restaurants live up to the sheer quality of Fiamma.  And in time, it's possible to expect more of those shiny hot spots to close as well. 

The Eater.com board posited that what Fiamma's closing indicated was a possible sea of trouble for the City's three star restaurants, of which there are now about 40.  My prediction is probable closings for the following members of the triple S club: WD-50, Dovetail, Adour Alain Ducasse, Corton, Picholine, Town, and Perry St.  

Why the pessimism, you ask?  For one, the three star, as I've written before, belies a special experience, and one that is reserved for more economically fortunate times.  People save up to eat at three stars.  They make reservations for anniversaries and birthdays, but they don't dine in these tableclothed havens on the regular.  The three stars most likely to succeed are the New York institutions that do have followings from the locals.  Gramercy Tavern ain't going anywhere, and Momofuku Ssam Bar isn't, either.  Gotham Bar and Grill, Eleven Madison Park, and Union Square Cafe may cost a pretty penny, but don't expect them to fold anytime soon. 

The newer and more experimental restaurants face the most trouble.  Restaurants who once eschewed food cost so that they could "bring exciting food to the public" may eventually change their tune.  Think Momofuku Ko makes a killing with their $100 tasting menu?  With high end items like uni, caviar, and truffles on the menu, you can think again.  Expect either a reining in of unusual and special foodstuffs or an inevitable menu price hike, which is exactly what people don't need right now. 

All around the city prices are dropping.  For a foodie, it's wonderful news.  In order to survive, expensive spots will have to concede to the demand generated by rising unemployment rates.  That is to say, they're going to have to offer the dreaded "deal."  

This might be good news, it really might.  All of the Frank Brunis out there, who desired a level playing field, may get their final death rattle of a wish.  I won't be holding my breath for Per Se or Masa to drop the prices on their tastings (respectively $200 and $300 per person, before alcohol), but there may be other silver linings to look forward to in lean times.  We'll just have to wait and see.