"Is this piece seriously arguing that we should continue to consume (another!) known carcinogen so that people can have low-paying jobs?"

Says the top-rated comment on the NYT article "What Else Do We Lose When People Give Up Booze? Yes, there are many benefits of cutting back. But bars are closing. Jobs are going away. And a way of being together can feel harder to find" (gift link).

Related news: "More Americans now use weed every day than drink or smoke cigarettes" (NY Post).

"Michelin-starred chef faces jail for garnishing desserts with ants."

A headline in The London Times. 

Prosecutors [in South Korea] put the total number of individual ants served at roughly 49,000. The owner argued the dried insects were only used in a “small part” of the restaurant’s 15-course menu, largely as a topping for sorbets, and that restaurants in countries such as Denmark, the UK and Australia also serve ants. They noted diners were also able to choose non-ant toppings, including fermented vinegar and edible flowers, and disputed the prosecution’s estimate, claiming only about 60 per cent of diners opted to try the ants.... 

Ants are not among the ten insect species approved for human consumption in Korea. Grasshoppers, locusts, brown-banded cockroaches and two-spotted crickets, however, are among those deemed safe to eat.

"California hits the brakes on the drive-thru boom/The American institution faces bans designed to stop people eating in their cars so much."

A headline in The London Times.

“Hopefully this will help encourage people to just, you know, socialise more, too, because drive-thrus, you’re just like waiting,” Commissioner Beverly Shotwell told The San Francisco Chronicle. “There’s not a lot of human interaction.”

That's what we need, more lines snaking around indoors. People will get to know each other. We'll chit chat and flourish.

Or everyone will order and pay on their iPhone then park and some person or robot comes out and hands them a bag and they drive off. 

"You don't have to tip. You wanna tip."

An Aussie discovers Texas Road House for the first time. Epic!

The World Cup needs to be permanently held in the US. It offers the most for the teams and the fans. 🤣🇺🇸🇦🇺 pic.twitter.com/5AFbUVWrFZ

— Buzz Patterson (@BuzzPatterson) June 19, 2026

AND: Costco has your beans:

Culture shock… Europeans in America pic.twitter.com/fxxgdHqKng

— Meidas_Charise Lee (@charise_lee) June 19, 2026

"In recent months, the original owners have moved to reclaim much of the business, acquiring roughly 140 locations with a plan to 're-Hooterize' the brand."

"The effort is led by Neil Kiefer, who was once the founders’ lawyer and is now the chief executive. He aims to return Hooters to what he described as its core identity — a casual place with a family-friendly vibe. 'There’s a lot to clean up,' Kiefer, 74, said in an interview. Under private equity control, Kiefer argued, the franchise operators leaned into more overtly sexual marketing, notably a 2021 decision to introduce uniforms that resembled underwear. 'We’re getting back to what makes us a beach-themed restaurant as opposed to a girlie bar,' Kiefer said."

From "Hooters Says Bring the Kids/The chain known for skimpy uniforms and 'bikini nights' is trying to change its image. Hooters onesie, anyone?" (NYT).

"Mr. DeCock hasn’t left New York in as long as he can remember. He barely even goes to Brooklyn."

"'Everything I do is in the neighborhood,' he said.... What Mr. DeCock doesn’t do, he said, is buy clothes or shop for much of anything, including groceries. He does not drink coffee at home. His fridge is empty.... Mr. DeCock... stopped cooking after the pandemic, when he admitted to himself that he was terrible at it. Now, he goes out for almost every meal — although he often skips lunch or dinner without noticing. He might run across the street for an order of the $27 seitan scaloppine at his favorite vegan restaurant, or walk a few blocks to a Mexican restaurant, where he’ll order the vegetarian enchiladas for $24.50. When Mr. DeCock is home and not working or sleeping, he’s often watching television. His big splurge is cable, his Spectrum bill is $250 a month. He also pays for Netflix, $19.99 a month, and Hulu, $18.99 a month. A Colorado native, Mr. DeCock sometimes misses nature, so he compensates by watching reality television shows about people who have to survive in the wilderness."

I'm reading "Affording New York/How a Hairdresser and Painter Lives on $70,000 a Year in Chelsea" (NYT). The 750 square foot studio apartment, in the Hotel Chelsea, costs $2700 a month.

"Affording New York" is a series. I love seeing how people express who they are by how they economize. This is the case of someone who's really splurging on food and television and making it work by harshly scrimping on travel and anything that might be shopped for. Gerald DeCock, 67, lives in a great part of town and he just stays put, getting the most out of that precise place. It's not just money he saves.  He saves a lot of time by avoiding all shopping and staying off the subway and every other form of transportation. Frankly, this way of life is appealing quite aside from the question of making it fit $70,000 a year. 

"Food can sew the seeds of love...."

I'm reading this in The New York Times: "Are You in a Restaurant Gap Relationship? You check Resy by the hour. Your date couldn’t care less. A misalignment in dining tastes is the ultimate test of compatibility."

I've got a homophone gap in my relationship with The New York Times.

ADDED: The trendy use of the word "gap" began in the 1950s, with anxiety over the Cold War. There was talk of the "bomber gap" and the "missile gap." This was satirized in "Doctor Strangelove" (1964):

"I think it would be extremely naive of us, Mr. President, to imagine that these new developments are going to cause any change in Soviet expansionist policy. I mean, we must be increasingly on the alert to prevent them from taking over other mineshaft space, in order to breed more prodigiously than we do, thus, knocking us out of these superior numbers when we emerge! Mr. President, we must not allow a mine shaft gap!"

We boomers remember the talk of the "generation gap" in the 1960s, but that got started with a Look magazine article in 1967 titled  "The Generation Gap" — in a deliberate play on "missile gap." 

"I have this German mind, if something is too spicy, it should be warned — or at least labelled."

Said Faycal Manz, quoted in "A German tourist sued a restaurant because its sauce is too hot. So I tried it/A litigious visitor claimed the salsa at Los Tacos No. 1 in Times Square made his tongue burn. I wondered: How bad could it be?" (London Times).

“My tongue and mouth were burning immediately,” he claimed. “My Apple Watch registered at this time a higher pulse.”

His lawsuit, for $100,000, was dismissed.

According to the article, the salsa at Los Tacos No. 1 isn't even that spicy. 

"[O]ne server... has watched diners grapple with a layered dessert consisting of honeycomb semifreddo covered in a tundra of shaved Comte cheese"

"'We get a lot of people who will take a couple bites and be like, "Well, I just thought it was way too much cheese,"' he says. 'I will have sat there and watched you just scoop right off the top, which is quite literally all cheese.' Now, he provides a bit of gentle parenting, making sure diners reach their spoons to the bottom of the dish and get semifreddo in each bite. In a world of Yelp Elites and TikTokers and Beli-trackers and, yes, restaurant critics like myself, it makes sense to leave nothing open to interpretation. Only, interpretation is half the fun...."

From "It’s time to retire the restaurant monologue/When did dinner out start to feel like a TED Talk?" (Eater).

Have you misinterpreted any food lately? 

Have you provided fun through food interpretation? All I can think of is the David Sedaris diary entry where he talks about a restaurant's use of foam: "I had a foie gras soup that looked as if it had been pissed on. Hugh had sea urchins, the shells emptied out and filled with what looked to be dirty bubble bath... [S]hould the trend continue, you’d never again be able to tell if the waiter had spit in your food." From "Theft by Finding" (commission earned).

How New York City really looks in the snow.

My son Chris happens to be sojourning in NYC in the midst of the big blizzard, which doesn't seem too overwhelming. 

He sends these pictures, which make things look more amusing than calamitous:

Hey, that's a cop car!

"Last summer, Tom Wong was working at the Chubby Crab... when a regular... ordered a combo.... and ate it at a table near the door, muttering to herself in between bites."

"Mr. Wong, 32, didn’t think anything of it. But a few days later, another customer came in and asked for a selfie. Then the asks kept coming. He had been recorded without his knowledge using a lentil-size camera embedded in a pair of Meta Ray-Ban glasses. The resulting video had been viewed more than two million times on TikTok, turning Mr. Wong and the restaurant into unwitting stars. 'At a certain point, I stopped working in the front of the restaurant,' he said. 'It was really uncomfortable.' To be in public is to risk being filmed. And these days, there’s a good chance it’s happening surreptitiously with smart glasses.... Servers, owners and customers can end up as captive participants...."

From "Dinner Is Being Recorded, Whether You Know It or Not/As Meta smart glasses capture scenes in restaurants for social media, service workers and customers are becoming captive participants" (NYT).

"The constant activity is better than therapy. It’s a lot of work, but running this restaurant is my passion, my dream. I don’t feel like I have Tourette’s anymore."

Said Dylan Larson, quoted in "Teen with Tourette’s Syndrome operates restaurant by himself — and the 'constant activity is better than therapy" (NY Post).

Larson, now 21, is the sole employee at Rare Earth Goods Café in Ishpeming, taking every order, cooking every meal, washing every dish, and balancing the books.... He works without a stovetop or full-sized oven, relying instead on a small electric griddle, a four-slice toaster and a countertop convection oven. On busy days, customers wait up to 45 minutes for their breakfast and lunch meals.... 

Doctors later diagnosed him with Tourette’s at age 8.... “I was noisier or a bit more, I don’t know, just louder than other people.” Larson said. “I was like, shouting in class. And when I got excited about something, my first word would be like, yelling at you. Sometimes, it would scare people.”

You may remember the chef with Tourette's from "Curb Your Enthusiasm":

"There’s pasta in the pantry and jarred sauce in the refrigerator. So what compels Kiely Reedy to keep having spaghetti with marinara delivered..."

"... from the restaurant down the street, for several times the cost of cooking the dish herself? It’s not that the restaurant dish is particularly good, she said. 'It’s the instant gratification.' From her roughly $50,000 annual salary as a data processor in San Diego, Ms. Reedy, 34, spends at least $200 to $300 a week on food delivery.... Between raising two young boys and putting in long hours at a marketing job in Atlanta, Kevin Caldwell can almost never find the time to make dinner. So he and his husband spend about $700 a week to order in. 'I am so burned out and tired, I would rather just throw my credit card at the problem and delay that unhappiness until the bill comes,' he said. His 4-year-old son doesn’t read yet, 'but he can put together an order' on the Chick-fil-A app, said Mr. Caldwell, 39. 'I am impressed, but I am also terrified.'"

From "Freedom With a Side of Guilt: How Food Delivery Is Reshaping Mealtime/Almost three of every four restaurant orders in the U.S. weren’t eaten in a restaurant, according to recent data. We spoke to readers who are devoted to delivery but question the costs" (NYT)(gift link).

I've never ordered in prepared food. I mean, back in the 1900s, I would order pizza sometimes, but not since then. I know about these services — Door Dash, Uber Eats, etc. — but I simply don't want them. We don't go to restaurants either, but I wonder if delivery is preferable to restaurants. Restaurants involve going out, which could be either a positive or a negative. Do you have time to burn? Even if you do, do you want to spend it sitting at a table waiting and under social pressure make conversation (and not to look at your phone)? Maybe that's just not what people do anymore. 

"Part of the sausage making process."

What happens when the minimum wage goes up? Well, California is getting an experiment in that right now. Just ask @gavinnewsom. Reason's @BessByers shares what happened after AB 1228 implemented a government-mandated pay raise for all fast-food workers. 🍔 pic.twitter.com/FFL7hkMOKk

— reason (@reason) December 31, 2025

Excellent video, but let me focus on Gavin Newsom's use of the old analogy between lawmaking and sausage making. The idea is you like the results but you'd be disgusted to see the process. So I guess Newsom's best argument for the bizarre exceptions in California's minimum wage law is that we'd be grossed out by the details if we saw them, but the final product is something we love. But with sausage, the final product has all the strange ingredients blended into one coherent-looking whole. The law Newsom is defending has unexplained exceptions right there in the text. It's more like sausage that has visible chunks of weird things that don't seem to belong and you want to know what the hell is that... and that... and that? You don't eat that sausage. And that's another thing. With sausage, if something about it makes you suspicious, you don't eat it. You're not forced to eat it just because the sausage-factory made it. Don't buy it. If it's served to you, don't eat it. Laws, we're forced to eat. 

***

The oldest version of the law/sausage analogy seems to be: "Laws, like sausages, cease to inspire respect in proportion as we know how they are made." I'm told that was written by the poet/lawyer John Godfrey Saxe, in 1869, in an article in the Daily Cleveland Herald. You probably heard that Otto von Bismarck is part of the story, but stories are like sausages: Everyone's always imagining what's in there, how it got in, and whether it belongs there. 

"Oh, lord. There's no way I could enjoy a meal with that poor piglet staring at me from across the table."

"Give me a great burrito from a taco truck or the perfect deli sandwich with salad and let the wealthy keep their creepy food."

A comment at this NYT article:

"Creepy food" is so apt.

Lots of photos at the link, but I'm low on free links at this point in the month, and we've still got 11 days to go. So you'll just have to take my word for it. I don't think all the food is "creepy," but it is all striving to look expensive to everyone who's hot to enjoy the life by spending large wads of money. I think the subtle subtext is: Don't go to these places.

Are you irked at the existence of a restaurant that serves excellent pasta on high tables where everyone must stand?

I'm reading "A restaurant with no chairs? This tiny pasta spot is worth standing for/Gemini in Dupont Circle is a wonderfully strange home for handmade pasta, natural wine and some of the best ice cream in the United States" (WaPo)(gift link, so you can see all the irked readers in the comments and some pictures of the food).

Sample comments:

1. "One thing about which I have not yet been 'disenchanted' in fine dining restaurants is a seat."

2. "I use a walker and anyplace I go must be accessible. This is a huge nope. Next."

3. "That's one way to ensure a young clientele...." 

4. "That might be a violation of the ADA...." 

5. "Wow. This business seem to have a lot of contempt for its customers. No chairs? Restrictive hours? No pasta outside??? No pasta for TAKE OUT? Good grief. I would never go there."

I'd say as long as people have a lot of choices of places to go, it's good to experiment, and I think it's nice to make a thing out of getting excellent pasta and moving along quickly, not sitting around. For people who want something else, there are all the other restaurants. 

"It’s a constitutional crisis with one dangerous man in control of all three branches of government...."

"We deserve better, and we can do better, and it starts with the Democratic Party winning back control of the House of Representatives.... My name is Jack Schlossberg, and I’m running for Congress to represent my home, New York’s 12th congressional district.... If you see me on the street, please say hello. If I knock on your door, I hope we can have a conversation...."

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Jack Schlossberg (@jackuno)

ADDED: I do agree with his position on restaurants:

Jack Schlossberg’s anti-restaurant tirade is the exact deranged himbo social cause JFK’s grandson should be doing. “My friends don’t like eating dinner. Most people in the world don’t spend their lives eating dinner.” Icon pic.twitter.com/XKk8JOX6Q5

— Russell (@RussellFalcon) July 4, 2023

"It might seem strange that a gigantic, staggeringly good new Cecily Brown work has emerged in a former flophouse where Jack Kerouac hacked out his scrolls..."

"... on the same block as Jimi Hendrix’s Electric Lady Studios—though it’s been established that Hendrix is very much a Cecily Brown muse. The work usually comes to, say, Paula Cooper Gallery, where there’s a long line of buyers, collectors who otherwise have to shell out millions for her paintings at auction. And yet Brown herself could not be more pleased. She’s a scholar of the restaurant mural: paintings that enhance the space without completely overwhelming it, and seem like they’ve been there forever. Her favorites: the Maxfield Parrish at the St. Regis’s King Cole Bar, where Dalí and Duchamp used to carouse. The Howard Chandler Christy series in the restaurant at Hotel des Artistes, where Norman Rockwell lived. And, of course, the murals of Bemelmans Bar at the Carlyle Hotel...."

From "Cecily Brown on the 'Unsexy' Art Market and Her New Restaurant Mural: 'It Can’t be Moved. It’s Not for Sale'/Chez Nous at the Marlton Hotel has a new mural by one of the world’s great painters—whose works sell for millions at auction—and it’s already in a league with the famous wall paintings at Bemelmans Bar" (Vanity Fair)(click through to see the busy, cheerful mural).

The article has a link on Jack Kerouac that goes to another Vanity Fair article, one that begins with this Jack Kerouac quote: "As far as I’m concerned the only thing to do is sit in a room and get drunk."

Was Jack talking about rooms like that fancy-schmancy Chez Nous at the Marlton Hotel? And was he really an indoorsy guy? Challenged, I sought out the context of that quote, which appears on a lot of "famous quotes" page. But it's in something from 1960 called "The Vanishing American Hobo." No hobos Chez Nous, I suppose. Here's Jack:

There's something strange going on, you cant even be alone any more in the primitive wilderness... there's always a helicopter comes and snoops around, you need camouflage. -- Then they begin to demand that you observe strange aircraft for Civil Defense as though you knew the difference between regular strange aircraft and any kind of strange aircraft. -- As far as I'm concerned the only thing to do is sit in a room and get drunk and give up your hoboing and your camping ambitions because there aint a sheriff or fire warden in any of the new fifty states who will let you cook a little meal over some burning sticks in the tule brake or the hidden valley or anyplace any more because he has nothing to do but pick on what he sees out there on the landscape moving independently of the gasoline power army police station. -- I have no ax to grind: I'm simply going to another world.

Ray Rademacher, a fellow staying at the Mission in the Bowery, said recently, "I wish things was like they was when my father was known as Johnny the Walker of the White Mountains. -- He once straightened out a young boy's bones after an accident, for a meal, and left. The French people around there called him 'Le Passant' (He who passes through.)

The hobos of America who can still travel in a healthy way are still in good shape, they can go hide in cemeteries and drink wine under cemetery groves of trees and micturate and sleep on cardboards and smash bottles on the tombstones and not care and not be scared of the dead but serious and humorous in the cop-avoiding night and even amused and leave litters of their picnic between the grizzled slabs of Imagined Death, cussing what they think are real days, but Oh the poor bum of the skid row! There he sleeps in the doorway, back to wall, head down, with his right hand palm-up as if to receive from the night, the other hand hanging, strong, firm, like Joe Louis hands, pathetic, made tragic by unavoidable circumstance -- the hand like a beggar's upheld with the fingers forming a suggestion of what he deserves and desires to receive, shaping the alms, thumb almost touching finger tips, as though on the tip of the tongue he's about to say in sleep and with that gesture what he couldnt say awake: "Why have you taken this away from me, that I cant draw my breath in the peace and sweetness of my own bed but here in these dull and nameless rags on this humbling stoop I have to sit waiting for the wheels of the city to roll," and further, "I dont want to show my hand but in sleep I'm helpless to straighten it, yet take this opportunity to see my plea, I'm alone, I'm sick, I'm dying -- see my hand up-tipped, learn the secret of my human heart, give me the thing, give me your hand, take me to the emerald mountains beyond the city, take me to the safe place, be kind, be nice, smile -- I'm too tired now of everything else, I've had enough, I give up, I quit, I want to go home, take me home O brother in the night -- take me home, lock me in safe, take me to where all is peace and amity, to the family of life, my mother, my father, my sister, my wife and you my brother and you my friend -- but no hope, no hope, no hope, I wake up and I'd give a million dollars to be in my own bed -- O Lord save me --" In evil roads behind gas tanks where murderous dogs snarl from behind wire fences cruisers suddenly leap out like getaway cars but from a crime more secret, more baneful than words can tell.

The woods are full of wardens.

"Grease fraud is a problem, too. In some areas, used cooking oil sells for more than new cooking oil, prompting hucksters to sell..."

"... virgin oil — including palm oil, which is associated with deforestation in Southeast Asia — as if it were used. It’s hard to catch, since fresh oil spiked with a little restaurant grease is almost indistinguishable from the real thing."

Just a snippet of weirdness from the vat of weirdness that is "The used oil from your french fry order may be fueling your next flight" (WaPo)(gift link).

"The spiral staircase leading up to the roof-deck at Los Angeles’s Tesla Diner is beautiful, or at least it is expensive-looking."

"It has video screens overhead and glowy lights at the base of each step and its own special soundtrack, a down-tempo, bleepy-bloopy composition that whooshes in as a notable contrast to the main dining room’s dad rock...."

I'm reading "Elon Musk's Utterly Mundane Vision of Dining/The Tesla Diner looks a lot like what we already have, just weirder and worse," by Ellen Cushing in The Atlantic (gift link).

Yeah, why not kick Elon Musk around over basically nothing? Nearly all of the food bought in restaurants in America is utterly mundane, isn't it? But somehow this utter mundaneness is "weirder and worse." But what's this about the music? What exactly would this "dad rock" be? Bruce Springsteen? I ask Spotify and it spits out a playlist of 125 songs and #1 is "Born to Run"... oops, I mean "Born in the U.S.A." "Born to Run" is #111.

A sample of the food: "The chili was oversalted and oddly smooth, with a slab of nonmelting cheese sitting on top of it like a pillbox hat.... The french fries had a disconcerting astringency, like they’d been dusted in the same stuff that’s put on Hint of Lime Tostitos. All together, the food, like its surroundings, is simultaneously over- and underconsidered, high form and low function. It isn’t bad so much as odd."

Anyway, did you see Elon Musk reuniting with Trump at the Charlie Kirk memorial? Did you wonder what they said? A lip-reader at TikTok has Trump doing all the talking: "How are you doing? So Elon, I've heard you wanted to chat. Let's try and work out how to get back on track. I've missed you." Lots of nodding from Musk.