The plight of the food blogger as restaurant critic is a strange one. I very rarely confess to the venue I’m reviewing that I am a food blogger (although, at times, the picture-taking does somewhat give it away), and it’s because reviews should be authentic; you should receive no more special treatment, should not put any more pressure on the staff than is already on them. That’s how I like to operate, how most critics do, I imagine, and I will never expect anything more, because I am nobody, really. Just another food blogger eating my way around town.
At the end of the road where my day job is situated there had been some buzz over the past few weeks about a new restaurant opening. The word was that it was French/Italian, they had a really good chef in, there were some problems which had delayed the opening, but it was finally going to open its doors on Tuesday night. Great, I thought, I’ll pop along after work and try it out. Opening night, even better, and then I called Momma Lee & Brother to join me.