In its preoccupation with the banal, it reads like a Nice Pete/Raymond Carver collab -- in review of the basically unreviewable, it imbibes the spirit of the third-rate undergraduate student newspaper. But this is actually a grownup. Thanks to Andrewiseverywhere. PS- I now see I am late to the party.
The enthusiasm Sifton brings to having NYC as his beat in nearly every review is infectious, mostly. It's as if he spend his formative years chained by the ankle to the steam table at a Ponderosa, and is happy to be eating better than that.
But the review is criminally thin on soundtrack inspiration. With its invocation of the red sauce places of yore, Sifton dares you to go with "Scenes from an Italian Restaurant," but the Cod is congenitally allergic to Billy Joel, who is the Lynyrd Skynyrd of Tri-State fifty-something hausfrauen. Thus a song to play off Mia Dona, back to where it belongs, which is to say not in New York Fucking City, where solid Italian food is not good enough.
*I can think of at least two folks who would be happy to tell you that Schreiber is to sex what the stickle is to the pickle.
A feature like post-collegiate kitchen makes sense, or would if young people read newspapers. But honing your culinary chops so that you can emulate the Olive Garden experience at home? To put it another way, is this a salad or a cry for help? Via YM.
It's hard to know where to begin with this pitch for Playboy's Girls of the Olive Garden(NSFWish) , which the Golden Fiddler tumbled upon. Is it the question of why it is the shock troops of America's obesity epidemic that are being thus featured? It is it the implausible statement that looking at pictures of seminude employees of a faux Italian restaurant chain could somehow be "Even better than endless salad and breadsticks"? It is it the charmingly 1995ish appellation "cyber club" for the online presence of what once was actually an influential print magazine? Is it the fear that somewhere, in some dingy corner of the Internet, there are naked pictures of Olive Garden patrons?
Or is it the general sense that this might be the best evidence yet that these are, indeed, the Last Days? Or is it just another Guiteau Monday?