The main reason we read restaurant reviews is to figure out which spots are worth hitting up, but we can’t deny the pleasure of a takedown or a snarky line. Welcome to #KnivesOut, where we bring you the bitchiest lines in this week’s crop of reviews.
“Their ribs arrive dangling out of a mini bucket. Ah yes. I’ve seen things like this before; it’s like experiencing a vicious flashback before you’ve taken the drugs. The sauce is at first as sharp and acidic as a cheap packet of salt and vinegar crisps and then as sweet as a six-year-old’s confection stash.”—Jay Rainer is horrified by Blue Boar Smokehouse‘s ribs.
“The Cubano Burger at Umami Burger tastes like gravy-topped chicharrón. The grease-ridden concoction pairs a pork patty with a lightly toasted bun. Shaved ham, pineapple mustard, and molten cheese crown the fatty swine, summoning images of Havana, Hawaiian pizza, and heartburn. Each nibble makes your lips gleam and your fingers look gross. And then, once you’re all done, your stomach feels even worse.“—Miami Times food critic Emily Codik hates Umami Burger’s South Beach location.
“I tried only one dessert, inexplicably called ‘In the City’—a confusion of mascarpone cheesecake, blueberries and graham crumble. Think of the way a hotel ballroom rubber-chicken affair ends, long after it’s time to go home.”—Steve Cuozzo torches new NYC restaurant Corvo Bianco.
“And so it was that I spent much of lunch—less eating, more pushing platefuls to one side—wondering whether there were any statutes under which it would be possible to prosecute the place. Sadly, I concluded that shameless bandwagon jumping, grievous bodily harm to an entire culinary tradition and atrocious cooking are not yet criminal offences.“—Jay Rainer thinks Blue Boar Smokehouse is more than mildly offensive.
“Underneath lies a banana ketchup which has the honour of being the worst thing I have put in my mouth since the incident with the washing-up liquid when I was seven.“—Jay Rainer is equally horrified by the restaurant’s banana ketchup.
“At issue are three factors: Charlie Bird’s use of hip-hop, which I found heavy-handed and troubling; its vision of New York City, which I found dangerous; and its food, which I found wanting.”—The Observer serves Charlie Bird a glassful of haterade.