Sure, there are other restaurant critics in town. Our paths rarely cross. If they do, we maintain a demeanor of professional politeness. We demonstrate a sense of mutual respect. If we laugh at say, their referring in print to a jambon Bayonne as a Toulouse, if they praise a '67 Pomerol when we know that vintage is best suited to gutter rinse, why, we have the courtesy to do so in private. There are times, however, when a fellow critic makes a pronouncement so ridiculous, so egregiously wrong, so outlandishly lacking in all sense of good taste and comportment that in the name of decency, we have to speak up publicly. Reluctantly, but we do.
Such is the case with Mr. Ian Froeb, who reviews restaurants for The Riverfront Times. Mr. Froeb was last week reviewing some Mexican-themed joint. Was the place good? We'll take Mr. Froeb's word on it. We wouldn't know. Hell, if the cheapest bottle of wine in a place isn't hanging up there comfortably in the three-figure range, we're not interested. However, in his review, Mr. Froeb opined that the three signature moments in Quintin Tarrantino's From Dusk Till Dawn were Cheech Marin's hustle outside the bar, the holy water in the Super Soaker, and Harvey Keitel's near-dying words. To which we say:
Dear Herr Froeb: You're full of it. We are talking about From Dusk Till Dawn. We're talking about a film where a bikini-clad Salma Hayak, in a stunning cinematic tour de force equaled perhaps only by Phoebe Cates' swimming pool scene in Fast Times at Ridgemont High, performs a dance, one culminating in an inventive serving of whiskey that dribbles down her golden thigh, spills over her bronzed shin, and drips, drips, drips, off her exquisite toe, into the mouth of the world's most fortunate bar patron. We're talking about one of the most dramatic and engaging moments in the history of American film. And Cheech, the water gun, and a clever exit line are the best parts of the movie?
Good thing you're a restaurant critic, Froeb. 'Cause you clearly don't know squat about the world of cinema verite. -- Dave Lowry, Interim Restaurant Critic
