In this month's hyper-cutting-edge GQ, food writer Alan Richman (and a few others) proudly announce "Brooklyn is the Coolest City on the Planet," (even if it's 11th worst-dressed in the U.S.) and offer an "Eater's Guide" to the
city borough. Upon seeing the article, Brooklyn promptly curled up into a ball and drank itself into a blind stupor with handcrafted Negronis.
Richman retreads the tired territory previously conquered by The Times and, uh, himself, citing longstanding Brooklyn favorites like Egg, Roberta's, Vinegar Hill House, Char No. 4, and even Peter Luger's, for chrissake.
The problem is not that these restaurants are undeserving of praise—many of them are quite good—it's that this "guide" already feels dated. The Brooklyn foodie revolution is beyond old news—it's a cliche. The newest of the establishments that Richman name-drops is Smorgasburg, which debuted six months ago as an offshoot of the years-old Brooklyn Flea and featured many already well-established Brooklyn food businesses.
Where's the love for any of the newer joints, Richman? Isa? Betto? Chuko? Bueller? Or are you living in a permanent time warp, back in ye olden days of 2007 when "house-cured local heritage jerky" was still a revolutionary concept? Queens residents, take note: with M. Wells gone, you remain safe.