Holly’s review of Comfort Me with Apples: Love, Adventure and a Passion for Cooking > Likes and Comments
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What makes her one of the best? What defines the art form of restaurant criticism from yer average review of the local Indian?
I'm not very good at putting my finger on things but it's mainly in the quality of the writing - the ability to paint a picture for the reader that includes sound, color, flavors, textures, smells... It is very hard to describe food in a way that makes a person not just hungry, but desperate to eat there.
Let's take for example, this excerpt from her review of Tabla in the NYT in Feb 1999:
"At the bar downstairs, people lean into conversations as they watch cooks grilling roti and naan in crazy flavors -- horseradish, buckwheat-honey, pumpernickel-caper. When they are ready for dinner they climb a wide staircase made of padauk, a gorgeous red wood that seems to glow from within. The dining room at the top is darkly sensuous, with walls stained in shades of jade and coral. Graceful servers stroll through the room; watching them, you feel you have entered some exotic realm on the far side of the world... each time I dine at the restaurant I encounter at least one person who despises the food. It always takes me by surprise. I sit there, thrilled by the taste of mustard fettuccine tossed with veal; I love the way the crusty chunks of meat are soft as custard when you bite into them. Savoring this mixture of spinach, spice, tomato and flour, I suddenly look up and find my guest staring with disbelief, at a bowl of wild mushroom soup. ''It's horrible,'' he says. I take a bite; it is electric with the taste of tamarind. The power of the ginger in the liquid takes my breath away. ''It's fabulous,'' I cry, ''you're insane.'' He pushes the bowl in my direction."
You can hear the conversation at the bar. See the glowing wood. Smell the spices and naan cooking. Feel the texture of the meat melting in your mouth. Taste the electricity of the ginger. She sets a larger scene, and then the smaller scene at the table between her and her dining partner.
In other words, her reviews have a plot. They have characters. She puts you directly in the scene. She makes you feel like you are right there with her. She is telling a story.
Contrast this with an excerpt from a review in my local paper (Newsday):
"Bright, streamlined, roomy and full of blond wood and clean lines beyond its bamboo facade, the new dining room represents a dramatic overhaul from the designs of earlier occupants, among them Crave, Haven Grill and Cafe Capriccio. Everything is new... The chef's choice of dishes, or omakase, is the most luxurious and inviting way to enjoy Hana. You'll receive a multi-course meal highlighted by what the markets offer. It could be lush fatty tuna, medium-fatty tuna, sweet shrimp, lustrous live scallop, baby yellowtail, geoduck clam, sea urchin, roe, more."
The review is... flat in comparison. It's just a bland description followed by a list of food. He does later go on to describe some of the food:
"...savory pork buns that visually will remind you of the puffy pancakes for Beijing duck, these brushed with just-enough Sriracha and teriyaki sauce."
But it has none of the pop. None of the excitement.
Can you feel the atmosphere in his words? Taste and feel the food on your tongue? Do you know what the restaurant smells like? Do you even get a sense of the diner in this review?
No, you cannot. And that to me is what separates a great reviewer from someone who is merely adequate. It's not BAD writing per se, it's just not enough to make me desperately wish I was there.
I see what you mean, but I certainly would not want to read her review in my local paper. It is not so much a review as writing for a book, which is fine, it was in a book. The review you quote from your paper is not brilliant but at least tells you what you might expect if you went there, which is what I want in a review.
But hers was also a review, it wasn't from a book. It was published in the New York Times. And all of her reviews are written like that, which makes them very enjoyable to read, IMHO.
I don't expect to read it in the local paper. But you asked about the art form of writing a great review and that's what it is.
Holly wrote: "But hers was also a review, it wasn't from a book. It was published in the New York Times. And all of her reviews are written like that..."
I didn't know that. I'm not an American. If I read reviews like that one I would read it for the pleasure of reading alone (if it was to my taste) but not to know about the restaurant and the food. For that I like reviews that tell me about the place.
When I go to the US I usually look up Yelp, in London always Time Out. But then I'm not going to get "walls stained with" anything except food (just joking) at the price level I'm at!
I do like differing points of view on books and writing. I have an indie bookshop and it's lovely discussing with customer what they liked/didn't like about a book.
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Petra X
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Feb 27, 2016 04:55AM
What makes her one of the best? What defines the art form of restaurant criticism from yer average review of the local Indian?
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I'm not very good at putting my finger on things but it's mainly in the quality of the writing - the ability to paint a picture for the reader that includes sound, color, flavors, textures, smells... It is very hard to describe food in a way that makes a person not just hungry, but desperate to eat there. Let's take for example, this excerpt from her review of Tabla in the NYT in Feb 1999:
"At the bar downstairs, people lean into conversations as they watch cooks grilling roti and naan in crazy flavors -- horseradish, buckwheat-honey, pumpernickel-caper. When they are ready for dinner they climb a wide staircase made of padauk, a gorgeous red wood that seems to glow from within. The dining room at the top is darkly sensuous, with walls stained in shades of jade and coral. Graceful servers stroll through the room; watching them, you feel you have entered some exotic realm on the far side of the world... each time I dine at the restaurant I encounter at least one person who despises the food. It always takes me by surprise. I sit there, thrilled by the taste of mustard fettuccine tossed with veal; I love the way the crusty chunks of meat are soft as custard when you bite into them. Savoring this mixture of spinach, spice, tomato and flour, I suddenly look up and find my guest staring with disbelief, at a bowl of wild mushroom soup. ''It's horrible,'' he says. I take a bite; it is electric with the taste of tamarind. The power of the ginger in the liquid takes my breath away. ''It's fabulous,'' I cry, ''you're insane.'' He pushes the bowl in my direction."
You can hear the conversation at the bar. See the glowing wood. Smell the spices and naan cooking. Feel the texture of the meat melting in your mouth. Taste the electricity of the ginger. She sets a larger scene, and then the smaller scene at the table between her and her dining partner.
In other words, her reviews have a plot. They have characters. She puts you directly in the scene. She makes you feel like you are right there with her. She is telling a story.
Contrast this with an excerpt from a review in my local paper (Newsday):
"Bright, streamlined, roomy and full of blond wood and clean lines beyond its bamboo facade, the new dining room represents a dramatic overhaul from the designs of earlier occupants, among them Crave, Haven Grill and Cafe Capriccio. Everything is new... The chef's choice of dishes, or omakase, is the most luxurious and inviting way to enjoy Hana. You'll receive a multi-course meal highlighted by what the markets offer. It could be lush fatty tuna, medium-fatty tuna, sweet shrimp, lustrous live scallop, baby yellowtail, geoduck clam, sea urchin, roe, more."
The review is... flat in comparison. It's just a bland description followed by a list of food. He does later go on to describe some of the food:
"...savory pork buns that visually will remind you of the puffy pancakes for Beijing duck, these brushed with just-enough Sriracha and teriyaki sauce."
But it has none of the pop. None of the excitement.
Can you feel the atmosphere in his words? Taste and feel the food on your tongue? Do you know what the restaurant smells like? Do you even get a sense of the diner in this review?
No, you cannot. And that to me is what separates a great reviewer from someone who is merely adequate. It's not BAD writing per se, it's just not enough to make me desperately wish I was there.
I see what you mean, but I certainly would not want to read her review in my local paper. It is not so much a review as writing for a book, which is fine, it was in a book. The review you quote from your paper is not brilliant but at least tells you what you might expect if you went there, which is what I want in a review.
But hers was also a review, it wasn't from a book. It was published in the New York Times. And all of her reviews are written like that, which makes them very enjoyable to read, IMHO. I don't expect to read it in the local paper. But you asked about the art form of writing a great review and that's what it is.
Holly wrote: "But hers was also a review, it wasn't from a book. It was published in the New York Times. And all of her reviews are written like that..."I didn't know that. I'm not an American. If I read reviews like that one I would read it for the pleasure of reading alone (if it was to my taste) but not to know about the restaurant and the food. For that I like reviews that tell me about the place.
When I go to the US I usually look up Yelp, in London always Time Out. But then I'm not going to get "walls stained with" anything except food (just joking) at the price level I'm at!
I do like differing points of view on books and writing. I have an indie bookshop and it's lovely discussing with customer what they liked/didn't like about a book.
