Critic's Choice

           It was 7:00 AM, and Justin rushed down the stairs of his one-bedroom flat in the city’s lower west side. The early edition of the local newspaper should have arrived at the newsstand around the corner, and he eagerly awaited to read something that would impact the rest of his day, and perhaps his career.

           Justin had opened a bistro in the east end of town, right next to park. The setting was traditional with small round tables covered with white linen. The low lighting added to the romantic ambiance, and soft jazz played in the background. Couples appeared to enjoy the open-air patio that overlooked the park. Everything seemed perfect in his eyes.

           Paying the clerk at the newsstand, Justin began flipping through the pages of the newspaper in search of “Dining Reviews,” a column by local food critic, Walter Gibbons. Mr. Gibbons arrived unannounced at the bistro two days earlier and ordered the Lamb Chops with a Cognac Dijon Cream Sauce, and a glass of Pinot noir to satisfy his palate. The meal was served with a small French loaf to soak up every morsel.

           The chef was given instruction to take his time preparing the meal. It needed to be absolute perfection if Walter Gibbons was going to approve. Justin watched anxiously from the kitchen as the critic placed the first bite into his mouth. He chewed on the piece of meat slowly, first on one side of his mouth, then the other. After swallowing, Mr. Gibbons picked up his glass of wine, swirled it in his right hand, sniffed it, and poured a small amount into his mouth. He swished it around between his cheeks, then swallowed again.

           Removing the silk napkin from his lapel, Mr. Gibbons slid his chair back and stood up. He slipped on his coat and left the bistro without a word. Justin walked over to the table where the man sat and saw that only one bite had been taken from the perfectly prepared meal.   

           When Justin found the article in the review, he read it slowly…

           It was titled, “Bistro Bland.”

           “During my recent visit to the Bistro Berland, named after the owner, Justin Berland, I am more apt to name it Bistro Bland.

           The service was slow, the lighting was so dim that I could barely see the food on my plate, and the stench of dog excrement from the park next door may have permanently damaged my palate.

           I ordered the lamb chops in cognac Dijon cream sauce, but the lamb chops were dry and overcooked, and the cognac tasted more like vinegar.

           The only thing it had going for it, was their pinot noir. It was a Gevrey-Chambertin if I am not mistaken.

           In my opinion, this bistro is not fit to feed a stray dog. I give it a one-star review.”

           Justin could not believe what he had just read. His career was finished. It did not matter if every other customer who sat in his restaurant raved about how good it was, the opinion of Walter Gibbons was the only one that mattered in this town. His words would make or break a successful business.

           He ambled back to his apartment with his head hung low and dropped face-first upon his couch. Justin was close to screaming into his pillow when the phone rang.

           “Justin, it’s Ray, have you read the review from Gibbons?”

           “Yes, Ray, I just finished reading it, and I am sure you can understand why I don’t feel much like talking right now.”

           “Okay, that’s cool, man, but if you change your mind, you know you can call me anytime, right? Don’t let this guy get you down. He doesn’t know what he is talking about.”

           “Thanks, my friend but I need some time to think, alright? Talk to you later.”

           Justin needed to face his staff that afternoon and discuss the review. Perhaps he could ask them for their opinion on how the bistro could be improved. The problem was, Justin had sunk his entire life’s savings into the opening of this restaurant, and he did not have enough profit to make any major renovations any time soon, and with this review, he may end up having to lay off some of his staff.

           He picked the newspaper back up and began to read over the other reviews. Almost every restaurant review had received a one or two-star rating apart from one, “La Salle a Manger,” which translates to “The Eating Room.” They received a five-star review from Mr. Gibbons, and Justin was intrigued as to what they did so differently, so he decided to stop in and see if he could get ideas for his own restaurant.

           As he pulled up to the restaurant, the exterior was nothing extravagant, just a cloth canopy over an oak door with the name of the restaurant glowing in neon above the picture windows. There was no lineup, so he decided to enter. Inside, a maître d stood behind a small wooden podium and greeted Justin as he walked in.

           He was led to a table in the back where the lighting was low and was sat at a table near the entrance to the restroom. Justin was already questioning how this restaurant could receive five stars. Nearly five minutes had passed before a waiter approached his table. The menu was difficult to read because of the lighting, so the waiter offered to hold his cellular phone over the menu to make it easier to see. Justin finally decided on beef stew.

           Ten minutes had passed, and still no food, so Justin was going to use the restroom before it arrived, but as he prepared to leave his seat, he spotted Walter Gibbons across the room talking to a gentleman in a grey suit. He appeared to be the manager. The man reached inside his suit jacket and pulled out a white envelope then handed it to Mr. Gibbons. The critic opened the flap of the envelope and revealed several green pieces of paper. Justin finally understood how this restaurant received such a great review, they were paying off the critic.

           Justin quickly picked up his phone and snapped a picture of the transaction, then he got up to leave before he could be spotted. When he arrived at his bistro, he gathered his staff for a brief meeting before they opened.

           Many of the staff were in a depressed mood after reading the review and were shocked to see a smile on the face of their boss when he walked in the room. He asked them all to have a seat and began to fill them in on his recent discovery. Some were outraged and wanted to cause physical harm on Mr. Gibbons, and others said that they should call the police, but Justin had another plan.

           A manilla envelope arrived on the desk of Walter Gibbons the next morning. He opened it and slid out a photograph with a handwritten note. The picture was of him receiving a bribe from the manager of the French restaurant, and in the note, Justin had written his demands.

“Mr. Gibbons,

           It has come to my attention that the only way to get a complimentary review from you is to pay you off as is shown in the attached photograph. However, I believe that we can come to a different understanding.

           I request that you retract your previous review of Bistro Berland and write a raving review in its place. If you refuse to do so, I have several copies of this photograph ready to send to every newspaper and media source in this city.

           It is up to you to decide which path to take. Perhaps you can review the cooks in prison for the next ten years instead.

           I expect an answer in the form of a review by the next edition.

           Sincerely,

           Justin Berland.”

           As expected, the critic caved in and wrote a retraction plus a new review praising Bistro Berland in every way. The one-star review was then changed to a five-star review. Justin offered a complimentary meal to the critic, though he never set foot in the bistro again.

           Business at the bistro had increased tenfold within the month, and in time, Justin would be able to expand on his dream. Word began to spread about this little taste of Paris on the east side of town, and the seating reservations for the next several months began to fill up.

           From that point on, Justin did not fear the reviews of his critics so long as his customers were happy, then that was all that mattered.