Chocolate mousse and prosciutto. Uh. Huh.

Call me cynical, but the tale of the kiddle who wants to be a restaurant critic strikes me as just another Joey the Plumber with $25 for hummus. Everything about the too-cuteness reeks, from the timing to the placement to the surfeit of product detail (not just hazelnut spread but fine hazelnut spread) and the paucity of facts (who’s his mamma?) Shill probability: 90 percent. The only question is for whom, the Maroons or a place too tiny to benefit from klieg lights. The chef’s a great guy, but give me a break. And let’s not even get into the reality that real news would be even one soon-to-be-“hip” place pulling out all the stops for a walk-in who happens to be a single woman.