Is Frank Bruni On Crack Cocaine?

I was going to be quiet about the whole ordeal.

No - not agitation over the Times' announcement that Bruni is leaving his food critic post in August. Quite the opposite.

You may have noticed that I didn't write about my final dinner in Napa. I did so on purpose. It was a dismal experience. Unexpected to say the least. Especially because Frank Bruni had declared the restaurant of choice -- Ubuntu -- to be the second best new restaurant in the U.S. outside of New York City.

I would have remained silent, if this Sunday's New York Times Magazine hadn't suddenly regaled it once again, this time in a Spaghetti Primavera Recipe Redux.

So, I am silent no longer and here is the tale that must be told...

We were on a gal's getaway weekend in Napa. We were excited. NYT Food Critic Frank Bruni had extolled this gourmet restaurant-slash-yoga studio. It sounded all sorts of California crunchy-granola in a glorious straight-from-the-farm haute cuisine kind of way, and we'd nabbed a coveted 8 o'clock Saturday table for two.

But, after a pitiful repast at Ubuntu with my pal Karen -- a professional food writer at that -- our dream of a fabulous foodie weekend finale was dashed. Moreover, it was clear that something was terribly wrong with Bruni. Either his taste-buds had died somewhere between the tarmac at JFK and California wine country or he had a crack cocaine habit that he desperately needed kick.

Any which way, our meal was a disaster.

I should have know. The menu offered a salad composed of leaves, flowers, roots and hazelnut “soil.”

C'mon! HAZELNUT "SOIL?" The air quotes and biodynamic, downward-facing-dog pretension jumped off the page and onto the plate.

Luckily for us, not on our plate, but that of a neighboring couple. The waitress arrived with a dish containing what looked like a slice of suburban lawn and laid it down on the table with a flourish. The couple stared at the greenery dotted with nasturtium, then worked up the nerve to brave a taste -- after which they promptly plopped their forks down, never to lift them again.

The Artichoke Salad that Karen and I ordered seemed more appealing, but the app's flavorless and mushy main ingredient had us plopping down our forks as well.

The rest of the meal was equally regrettable. Even the restaurant's most famous dish, Cauliflower in Cast Iron Pot, was a textural mish-mash. And, although seasoned with a variety of Indian-influenced spices, we couldn't find a high-note among them.

It was sad. Very sad.

What made it sadder was the table to the other side of us, with ooh-ing and aah-ing patrons totally captivated by the restaurant's ethos, enraptured simply by the idea that a dish on the menu contained BOTH mint and coriander.

WOW!

I smirked. Karen's eyes rolled. Then the giggling began.

Clearly our time at Ubuntu had come to a close. We beckoned for the check and hit the streets -- unsurprisingly, in search of a late night burger.

Comments

[Joan]

Thank you for this truth telling. We are healthy foodies of the Michael Pollen, Alice Waters school of eating, who could not wait for Ubuntu to open, only to experience vegetables masked with so much salt, cream & butter that the healthy, delicious, honest flavors of the vegetables, were nowhere to be found. Yet the food critics have raved. Umbuntu is truly a tale of hype: the emperor has no clothes!

[RobertR]

Smirks and eye rolls over another couple enjoying their meal and a dish you did not try?

If anyone Googles Ubuntu they will see overwhelming positive reviews and not only from the likes of Bruni. Is that an indication that they are all flowing hype or maybe your view was in the minority?
It appears to me from reading your post that not only is all taste subjective but also what folks find entertaining while dining out.

[The Vamp]

As I state up at the top of my blog, these writings are from a decidedly decided opinion -- mine.

I agree that opinions differ about food, which to my mind makes it all the more enjoyable to talk about it.

And, happy to have a legion of fans knocking down Ubuntu's door. It means that they aren't angling for a table at a restaurant that I want to go to.