Oh man, Mike Sula almost got us with his brilliant, could-have-been-in-NYMag, piece on invented asshole chef Albert D’Angelo and his nightmarish superexclusive fake restaurant in Lake Michigan, Crib. But for one thing, Mr. D’Angelo would know better than to put alcohol in his bong, and two, since we’re also 24 years old and from the Upper East Side, we’d have known him growing up. The scary thing is, much of it is plausible. Very traumatizing.
The real Albert D’Angelo died three weeks ago in suburban New Jersey. He was a 76 year old property developer who “enjoyed watching westerns, especially those starring John Wayne.” And he’s pissed about this.
(Actually, Mike tells us that that Albert D’Angelo is the name of a chef in T.C. Boyle’s much-beloved short story, “Sorry Fugu.” Anyone who didn’t catch the reference should feel uncultured.)
Okay, speaking of April Fools, remember Time Out’s shill for Sixteen earlier this week? Well, Pat Bruno’s review of the restaurant in today’s Sun-Times sort of reminded us of it. Unfairly, perhaps, but still. A particularly odious passage:
Executive chef Frank Brunacci knows how to up the flavor amp, but there is nothing shocking (no foams, gels, or powders, thank you) to worry about.
Come on, Pat, why don’t you share our values? Why doesn’t everyone share our values, for that matter! Pluralism sucks.
