I’ve been reading the Mountain X for a number of years now, … primarily because I love [movie reviewer] Ken Hanke. I find him intelligent, knowledgeable, incisive, human and most of all, a mighty fine writer.
So when the Mountain X first began publishing restaurant reviews, I was excited to read what I hoped would be food writing on a similar level.
I was miserably disappointed. First, there was Mackensey Lunsford, whom I found insufferably self-referential and whose turns of phrase were too oftentimes overwrought and just plain awkward.
And now, you give us Hanna Rachel Raskin. Honestly, I didn’t think the food reviewing could get much worse.
Wrong again.
I just read the review of Carmel’s [“The Straight Dish,” Feb. 7]. I don’t know the owners, but I do know, love and respect the executive chef, Michelle Kelly (formerly of Gabrielle’s at Richmond Hill Inn and one of the most gifted cooks I’ve ever known). I found it insulting that Ms. Raskin didn’t even bother finding out the name of the chef or the owners, yet she describes some weird encounter with a “prep cook” in the hallway.
Ms. Raskin began the review: “No offense to Carmel’s … but I figure it won’t be long before a hot hip-hop dance club opens in its location … . With the opening of [the] classy steak-and-seafood joint, the corner of Battery Park and Page avenues has cemented its reputation as the quickest route to Florida, circa 20 years ago.”
What? Just out of curiosity, how old was Ms. Raskin 20 years ago—10?
The whole meandering passage about the menu design left me shaking my head. “As a writer,” Ms. Raskin continues, “I’m obsessively interested in any words between two covers.” Oy vey.
Oh, and speaking of awkward turns of phrase, how about this: “But sometimes it’s simpler to book a ticket on a commercial airliner than hitch a ride on a biplane”?!
May I suggest [that Xpress] either find a food reviewer who can do the job and do it well, or lose the column altogether. I’ve worked in the industry for probably longer than the aforementioned reviewers have been alive, and I swear, I’ve never read more feeble food writing. It’s been off-putting enough to make me stop reading the X altogether—except, like I said, I love Ken Hanke.
