Sam Sifton

Oh Sam.
I was very excited when Bill Keller announced you would be the next New York Times restaurant critic, after Frank Bruni decided to write a book and work for the Magazine. I hoped your time as culture editor at the Grey Lady — combined with your penchant for street slang and hip-​hop patois, would bring a funky-​fresh perspective to writing about the restaurants.
You started off well with your review of Fatty ‘Cue: your description of their noodle soup «pack[ing] heat like an oven door» warmed my heart like a cup of Campbell’s chicken noodle soup.
Then things took an unexpected veer for the worse.
There was the review of SHO Shaun Hergatt, which read like a 3-​star review, but only merited two in the pages of your rhyme book. And then there was your two-​star review of the dishes at Il Matto, which Adam Platt called a «gauntlet of self-​conscious, inconsistent grub.»
And then the bomb hit.
Your 4-​star review of Del Posto was like the explosion of the Death Star in the culinary blogosphere, epic and unexpected. I have eaten at both Del Posto and Babbo, Batali’s flagship restaurants. Babbo got 3 stars under the Bruni reign which it rightly deserved; Del Posto, although an enjoyable experience, was probably on par with Babbo. Even Molto Mario seemed surprised by your review, tweeting «Holy Shitaly!!!»
Perhaps the New York Times can call Bruni up from the bullpen or Gael Greene from retirement. Or even better yet, medical science can create an love-​child of Bruni’s insouciant wit and Greene’s insatiable hedonism. But Sifty, after so much promise, it seems I’ll be getting my restaurant recommendations from Plattypants from now on.