The Gustatory Contrarian

I feel that I must stand up for all that is holy and good in this world by being one of the evidently few people in this country to say how perfectly AWFUL Chef Michel Richard’s new restaurant, Central Michel Richard, is.  The food, much like the name, is perfectly unimaginative French — buttered into such a state of oblivion that all sense of flavor is lost.  I have been to Central twice.  The first time, I ordered a dish that I believed could only be a win-win proposition for me and the restaurant — they got $29 of my money for lunch and I got a lobster burger.  What could be better than a big pile ‘o lobster between some buns ? 

As I would shortly learn when my food arrived, there were plenty more fetching options in life (including a date with a hippie girl who hadn’t washed in two weeks).  The lobster was relatively tasteless, except for the butter than they obviously slathered the lobster, bun, and pretty much everything else on the plate with.  Chef Richard should have named the item, Butter Burger with a Side of Flavorless Lard.  I didn’t finish my burger and looked longingly at my lunch companion’s salad, which presumably, escaped death by butter.  And let’s not forget to mention the perfectly inattentive staff.  I realize the place is French, but that does not mean that I want a side of attitude and lethargy with my meal, especially a place that caters to politicos and lawyers (people who generally have time-restricted schedules) at lunch.  Evidently, a side of “hurry the fuck up” is a special, non-menu item.

Despite my first impressions of the place, I dared to visit again after reading many stellar reviews of Central, thinking that perhaps my lobster burger disaster had been a deviation, rather than the norm.  Perhaps my lobster patty had been accidentally thrown into a vat of melted butter when the sous chef tripped over Ratatouille in the kitchen, but they served it to me anyway because it was the last lobster they had and didn’t want to disappoint me?  (Obviously, I was trying to give them the benefit of the doubt.)  This time, I brought my chef-in-training friend with me for a second opinion and I ordered a plain jane burger — something that even a truck stop restaurant couldn’t fuck up.

Evidently, I should have found a truck stop.  Central’s burger, at a whopping $16, was thoroughly underwhelming.  The meat did not taste distinguishable from $2 buck chuck that I could have purchased in a grocery store (again, perhaps the overpowering presence of butter on the plate drowned out all the food’s natural good taste), and once again, the service was snooty and non-existent (and this time, we were one of two seated tables, so it’s not like the server was busy; rather, the server, much like my food, simply sucked).  I will say that my friend’s Fish and Chips were pretty darn good.  The breading on the fish was light and airy, with a nice, delicate crunch.  (So, if you MUST go to Central to see and be seen, I recommend the Fish and Chips.)

Despite the tastiness of her own mean, my friend’s opinion was pretty much the same as mine — if you can’t cook a burger, then you pretty much suck, Central Michel Richard. 

So, if you enjoy the idea of tasting two sticks of butter with your meal and having service that seems to be moving at the pace of a dead minnow underwater, I recommend Central Michel Richard.