The Emperor’s New Restaurant

Over the past two weeks, we’ve mulled over unfortunate restaurant names and discussed our inability to stop patronizing places with bad service and delicious food.

This week we’ve been pondering the phenomenon of The Emperor’s New Restaurant and we want to hear what you have to say about it. Not sure what it is? The definition after the jump.

The Emperor’s New Restaurant: You know, the new place that everyone tells you is fabulous. Then you go and it stinks.

First you blame yourself: It must be me! I got them on a bad night! They’re new and overwhelmed!

You share your bad experience with others and they tell you to give it another shot. So you go again. Spend more money. It still stinks. This time worse than before.

And yet the applause for this spot has reached a thundering crescendo. You start to wonder if everyone you know is a masochist who has had his tastebuds removed. Then, The Review comes out. It is lavish with its praise, schoolgirlish even, in its adoration, and you start to wonder if LaBan is starting to go soft. But he’s not alone: the kudos comes in loving waves as critic after critic falls under its spell.

Again, you think, it must be me. Can all of these people, these professionals be wrong?

Yes. Some restaurants cast a weird and magical spell and the public, the professionals, everyone you know falls under it. And you’re left scratching your head while you gnaw on overpriced rubbery chicken.

I learned this the hard way at one of the many BYOBs in the city that starts with M, which I consider to be the original Emperor’s New Restaurant. I have been there six times and it’s been mediocre at its very best, but I can’t tell you how many people sing its praises to me on a regular basis. And yes, I’m an idiot for going six times.

So, Fooboozers, what about you? Which restaurants have no clothes?