Fading orange

I know I’m on the liste de merde over at a smart food magazine (the Big Homme in Beijing was a good scoop topped off with good writing), so I’m always happy to cross paths with one of the serfs off the masthead who has no grudge on board. Most recently that happened at the Tristar strawberry stand on Union Square, where I got an earful that did leave me thinking poor old Molto might have crossed the line toward irrelevance, now that celebrity chefs are not just overexposed but being churned out like superhero movies. When was the last time he did anything that mattered beyond marketing?