One of the silliest notions touted all week was that a 19th-century guidebook to Paris was the Zagat of its time. What, the producer surveyed strangers and stitched together “quotes,” with no personal point of view or shank’s mare research? In reality, what the voracious Grimod produced did not even sound like a Michelin. It was much closer to early Duncan Hines. And that’s the saddest part of what the Maroons have wrought. Everybody knows their name. No one realizes invoking it is like putting Parkay ahead of Plugra.