Well, if the CIA doesn’t work out, there’s always celebrity

Oddly enough, a nasty crack at the dinner about a chef shilling for an absurdly overpriced wine led me to a video of him railing that the big problem for restaurants in America was finding enough chefs, now that even Cleveland has respectable kitchens. The segment was undated, but I didn’t need it to make me wonder WTF on opening my hometown paper and seeing a piece on the allegedly horrific crisis confronting NYC chefs. If things are that effen dire, you don’t illustrate with a photo of Colicchio wannabes auditioning for a teevee show. To believe, I needed to see a line of real applicants around the block, like the one I still remember that stretched from Third to Lex when the Village Voice ran an ad for waiters at Between the Bread in 1983 when I left the NYT the first time, to go to restaurant school, and was looking to make some fast cash. But having put pork parts through the grinder and into the casings myself, I can see how this silliness happened. Some editor who commutes by DeCamp decides it’s time for a recession check and says jump and the underlings just ask: How low? This was as idiotic as presuming the fashion industry is going to hell because a few hundred aspiring Padmas trampled each other. When your lede is a restaurant that’s opening, show me the countless closed ones. Or at least hold off on the caviar lounge “news.”