Media wonks have been debating the death of criticism for years; on Yelp, Google reviews, TripAdvisor, Reddit, and social media platforms, everyone’s a critic, and the most popular voices are personable and relatable. Anonymous critics just can’t compete.
“We hope we can build relationships with our readers,” Mishan told Forbes of the decision to go public. “Perhaps by getting to know us and understand where we are coming from, they will know when to trust us.”
The entire enterprise of anonymity was pretty childish to begin with, so I’m glad the veils are coming off. I’m not the only one. There have been plenty of thinkpieces on restaurant critic anonymity. While the system works in an ideal sense, it rarely achieves the desired effect: authentic, realistic restaurant reviews that are useful to readers.
Restaurants are sometimes fully aware that they’re serving a VIP, or PX in industry terms. I’ve seen it myself, dining with “anonymous” colleagues. One of my first editors, Brad A. Johnson, wore thick-rimmed glasses when he was writing reviews for Angeleno Magazine, as if servers couldn’t recognize Clark Kent for Superman. Other times, restaurants have no idea. I watched Addison and another well-known Los Angeles Times staffer eat at Citrin, but chef Josiah Citrin didn’t know until I told him.
Johnson and Addison got meals that were fairly typical of other tables because — other than spiking the food with MSG or parading out truffles and caviar — restaurants can’t do a lot to change their offerings once a critic is seated.
There are certainly exceptions. Non-anonymous San Francisco Chronicle critic MacKenzie Chung Fegan had an epic encounter with chef Thomas Keller at the French Laundry. There are also fables about Ruth Reichl reviewing New York restaurants before and after she was made.
But anonymity was never just about fooling restaurants; it also gave accredited reviewers an air of professionalism, as if they couldn’t be swayed by petty favors. Dropping the act would seem to put reviewers on the same level as amateur influencers. But anonymity was never critics’ strongest selling point.
With their professional training and insider sources, critics can become genuinely knowledgeable about restaurants they’re reviewing. The best reviews contextualize a cuisine so that readers understand why a restaurant is successful or unsuccessful, adding layers that TikTok influencers worried about easy swipe-ability could never do.
Restaurant criticism could also remain relevant if critics start to write forms outside of the established templates. In his recent review of Maydan in Washington, D.C., for instance, Sontag writes that meals feel different depending on whether owner Rose Previte, who’s been busy opening a massive food emporium in Los Angeles, is in the house. Then he breaks the anonymous review form by talking to Previte herself to get her take. It makes the review a conversation, one that includes the critic, chef, and audience.
Lots of restaurant reviews could also benefit from annual updates, as reviewers do with tech, cars, and consumer goods. The Michelin Guide does it, doling out stars year after year; that’s why people still value it. Former San Francisco Chronicle critic Michael Bauer (who was comically known within the Bay Area dining scene and the subject of real controversy) at least made it a point to revisit restaurants to rereview them. Write-ups don’t have to be some immutable piece of literature.
Chefs, food trends, restaurant scenes — they all evolve over time. Why shouldn’t the restaurant review?
