The No. 1 question I get asked as a food critic is, “What’s your favorite restaurant?”
The No. 2 question is, “Have you gained any weight?”
And coming in at No. 3, “What do you look for when you’re reviewing a restaurant?”
Since the first two are so easy to answer (in order, “no comment,” and “yes, lots”), we’ll concentrate on the third question here.
There is no hard science about restaurant criticism because it is, without doubt, subjective. After all, I’m just one mouth, not a sample group.
So the criteria I use to evaluate a restaurant aren’t exactly quantifiable. My mission isn’t to score a restaurant like the College Board scores SATs.
Instead, I try to give a hint about what to expect at a given restaurant, and how high a patron’s expectations should reasonably be.
But if I had to make a list of evaluation criteria, it would look something like this:
Food. The most important thing when I’m considering the food is this: Is it delicious? There are many parts to this question: quality of the ingredients, level of technique, cultural or ethnic authenticity, uniqueness, visual appearance, temperature. But what matters most is whether it tastes good.
Deliciousness is the great equalizer. It exists everywhere: at struggling neighborhood cafes and overbearing strip-mall chains, on exquisite china or in shrink-wrapped plastic. It’s elusive, but unmistakable when it appears.
Service. Often, the most compelling reason to go out for dinner isn’t the food. It’s the fact that we don’t have to cook, do dishes, or, frankly, get our butts up from the table for anything at all.
But service has to be good for it to make sense. There’s no upside to sloppy service; it negates any chance of having a pleasant meal. Flawless service, however, is invaluable. It can make a good meal great, a great meal unforgettable.
The more I eat out, the more I appreciate good service (by which I mean efficient, aware and friendly), and the more sensitive I am to bad (sluggish, distracted and absent).
N0. 1 service issue for me: pacing. Nothing’s worse than sitting for 20 minutes between courses, except, perhaps, being brought your entrée before your appetizers are finished.
Vibe. The atmosphere doesn’t have to conform to a specific taste, but it has to work. For example, I’m not a huge fan of throbbing martini bars where they pour acid-green cocktails. But when I visit one for work, I have to put aside my prejudices. Sure, the atmosphere may not be my style, but if it adds to rather than distracts (or detracts) from the meal, then it works.
Wild Card. Many restaurants stand out because of one special thing: a great view, an exquisitely or uniquely designed room, a pleasant and loyal clientele, a great bar.
A sharp wine list can make an especially big impression. These things won’t make or break a restaurant (or a review) but they can tip the scales.
Value. Good value doesn’t always translate into a small bill at the end of your meal. It exists in cheap restaurants and expensive. Value weighs the quality of the food, level of service, and overall experience against what you paid for your meal. The question, asked on the way home in the car, is, “Do I feel ripped off?”
Vision and execution. This is the hardest of the criteria to quantify. To stand out, a restaurant must be clear about its point of view, and deft in executing it. These are the two questions: “What are they trying to do here?” followed quickly by “Are they pulling it off?”
In other words, does the restaurant have an identifiable, worthwhile, relevant, unique, and salable vision? And if so, how’re they doing?
Restaurants that skillfully execute a clear and intelligent vision don’t have to appeal to my tastes, per se.
But they have to run smoothly, exhibit and deliver on a strong point of view, be of good value and, most importantly, offer up the ever-elusive deliciousness.
Dining critic Tucker Shaw can be reached at 303-820-1958 or at dining@denverpost.com.
