A year ago, Ramsay's restaurant empire had some trouble paying back millions in loans. Here is a plan for future success, Gordon Ramsay! It goes a little something like this: 1) Take some of the money from these ventures, detailed by Bloomberg Markets...

• "In the U.K., he earns more than 2 million pounds annually from Ramsay's Kitchen Nightmares and The F Word... In 2009, Hutcheson says Ramsay's talent fees from U.S. shows alone hit $9 million."
• "Ramsay has also published two autobiographies and lent his name to 23 cookbooks... [his books] have generated almost 25 million pounds in U.K. sales alone. Ramsay also endorses pots, pans, glasses and china branded as Gordon Ramsay by Royal Doulton, and he's Diageo Plc's U.K. pitchman for Gordon's Gin. Hutcheson says Ramsay makes about 3 million pounds a year from endorsements."
• "In 2004, Ramsay's Kitchen Nightmares debuted in the U.K., making him a household name. Mike Darnell, Fox's president of alternative entertainment, saw him in a reality series, Hell's Kitchen, and signed him to make U.S. versions of both shows. According to Hutcheson, Ramsay earns about $250,000 per episode. On Nov. 3, Fox announced that Ramsay will also star in MasterChef, an American version of the British cookery contest."

John DeJohn, who owns four Albany eateries including the new Pearl Street Pub, and Joe Schaefer, co-owner of Savannah's, located two blocks from the pub, are scheduled for a three-round boxing match...
"I'm going there not just to win but to take out a lot of rage and aggression I have toward certain people," says Schaefer

Also maybe a good night for Steve Barnes to look for a suspect in his beating: an Albany restaurateur with a violent streak.

Canceled last year in light of budget cuts, this year's soiree will be at posh Sixth Avenue restaurant Aureole, where a foie gras torchon appetizer will set you back $23 and the lobster tails are served with a side of pork belly. But don't take my word for it. Just ask the culinary institution Condé Nast shuttered this year, Gourmet, which reviewed Aureole in June:

At the bar, where big windows look out to 42nd Street, people crowd in to air-kiss and clink glasses after work as they snack on pastrami pork belly sliders and fluke sashimi.... Crisp, tiny fried oysters come with a puddle of kimchi gelée and a fluff of lemon powder. Ravioli hide a rich purée of artichokes; it is hard to have any restraint. Entrées tend to be hunks of gorgeous protein like Copper River salmon, aged rib-eye steaks, lamb snuggled up to accompaniments like quinoa, preserved lemons, black garlic, and pickled ramps.... At $84 per person, it's my bet that the real money here will be made on the more casual lunch menu... [Emphasis added]

It may not be the Four Seasons (the venue of choice for the old Condé's holiday shindigs) but the free drinks should get them just as drunk, especially since there are fewer people to share with, now.

Despite Dismal Year, Condé Nast Revives Holiday Hurrah [NYO]
Restaurants Now: Aureole, Browntrout, Burma Superstar [Gourmet]

Well! Oxfeld's attempt to break through the threshold from the mere peasantry of a walk-in right to a prime time table was chronicled by Eater:

I feel Oxfeld's pain, as someone who has both been through the intense process of trying to get a goddamn steak and as someone who used to take reservations for Keith McNally's restaurants. Full disclosure!

Without revealing any of the top secret, Pandora's Box-esque Black Voodoo BloodMagik that goes into getting a table at one of his places, know that it can be done. But Oxfeld, who—Mazel Tov!—was recently named the new theater critic at the New York Observer, wasn't getting one. And he wasn't about to take that shit lying down, or past 10PM.

It sounds like he tried to get a reservation exchanged, and was a little too aggro in dealing with the reservationist on the other line. Note to all New York Diners: be nice to your reservationists. Otherwise, you might end up getting it blogged, and the owner of the restaurant will consequently call you out for being an asshole. Like this:

I just investigated the Jesse Oxfeld claim and discovered that most of what he said is quite true. However, according to Hannan, the reservationist who took his call, Mr. Oxfeld was so pushy and aggressive on the telephone that she took it upon herself to distort the reservation policy to ensure that someone as unpleasant-sounding as Mr. Oxfeld would not be eating at Minetta Tavern.

I'm personally so upset not to have someone as unpleasant and aggressive on the telephone not eat at Minetta Tavern that I'd like to now take this opportunity to offer my sincere and heartfelt apologies to Mr Oxfeld.

Sincerely,
Keith McNally

Zing! For those of you outside New York who are still wondering what the everloving fuck is so important or amazing to deal with the trouble of getting a reservation at a place like Minetta, well, departed New York Times dining critic Frank Bruni, in a review noting Minetta as "the best steakhouse in the city," also wrote:

Where Mr. McNally goes, models, movie honchos and magazine scribes follow, because they're sure to find themselves among other members of their slavishly fashionable tribe, coddled in an environment that's as much stage set as mess hall.

Also, the french fries are cooked in Lorenzo's Oil and the salads are topped with Weapons-Grade plutonium flakes: it's the new Foie Gras. Mind you, this is a city that will wait for hours for a goddamn hamburger, rain or shine.

New York, New York. It's a hell of a town. If you need any further explanation, this should help.

The cards-only policy went into effect earlier this summer. Now the WSJ gets right down to it:

"If you don't have a credit card, you can use a debit card," said the restaurant's co-owner, Tony Zazula. "If you don't have a debit card, you probably don't have a checking account. And if you don't have a checking account, you probably shouldn't be eating at Commerce to begin with."

No more hobos straggling in to spend their panhandling proceeds on marinated Hamachi ceviche with yuzu, tomato, chile and cilantro! Problem solved.

The advice? Sit over there, at the bar, far away from the main dining room, where, you know, anyone can sit. Writes Page Six:

In the fashion bible's much-anticipated September issue, food critic Jeffrey Steingarten suggests readers eat at the bars of some of New York's most exclusive restaurants. "Eating at a restaurant bar will get you into places that would otherwise ridicule your attempt to secure a reservation," Steingarten says of Minetta Tavern, Per Se and the Standard Grill. Also: "You don't need to dress up" to sit at the bar, and "bartenders are more well-mannered" and "faster than waiters."

Achtung! You there, with the size four waist! You can graze at the same restaurants we do. Granted, you will sit far from us, in real estate generally reserved for where we elbow you for drinks before we actually eat, but still! Then again, this could just be an abuse of power by Steingarten in order to clear up resto real estate for his friends, but probably not.

The knowledge that Steingarten's on the PPX list of every restaurant in town that would "ridicule your attempt to secure a reservation" is the service industry's equivalent of "the sky is blue," as is the idea of eating at a bar being easier to secure than a table at a restaurant, even to those in, yes, "flyover country." But you have to praise the good intentions of Vogue: at least they're not straight up just making fun of fat people, unlike, say, the New York Times. Strange, but true.

Trump has a very particular business model: Get a reputation for being a wildly successful business mogul even though you are, in fact, a failure at business; capitalize on the reputation itself—instead of your purported mogul skills—to make a living. Donald probably makes more off books and TV shows and Learning Annex courses than he ever did off his crumbling real estate empire, and that's okay. It works for him.

And it can work for Gordon Ramsay! His own little empire of fancy restaurants has been collapsing ever since this little economic meltdown stopped hedge fundies from using their little expense accounts to buy, you know, food sold by Gordon Ramsay & Co. After a rapid expansion during the boom years, he's now closing restaurants during slow hours, cutting back on staff and expensive menu items and fancy dining room trimmings, and using "more economical ingredients." And look—according to the WSJ, his business model is evolving in quite a familiar direction!

Mr. Ramsay generates about £10 million in annual revenue from television, publishing and endorsement contracts. That includes as much as $250,000 a show for the U.S. versions of "Hell's Kitchen" and "Kitchen Nightmares," which both air on Fox, a unit of News Corp., which owns The Wall Street Journal. Mr. Ramsay has poured about £12 million of his media earnings into his restaurant empire...

[Now], Rather than paying rent, Mr. Ramsay receives fees for licensing the Ramsay name, provides key personnel and advises on menus.

Licensing: that's where the smart money is. And though Gordon Ramsay and Donald Trump are both asshole, Ramsay is a lovable asshole. Big difference.

This new made-up designation supersedes our earlier proclamation that Gordon Ramsay was the "John McCain of Food.".
[Pic: Getty]

We already heard from one patron that the Vanity Fair editor's West Village fixture (of the past few years) has been c'mon in! welcoming of late, and now another tipster tells us much the same:

I just took a stroll over to the Waverly Inn to make a reservation for my boss for tonight. I walked in, sat down, talked to the very friendly reservationist who worked off her laptop, and got a reservation. It's that easy! My boss isn't even a celebrity. Is the Waverly slipping? I was expecting to have to beg/cry, and was fully prepared to do both. I guess the recession has trimmed down their list of regulars so that the plebes may have a taste of greatness.

Hmm. Used to be that there was a certain strict set of rules one had to follow to get seated at the little haunt. But that was back in dusty old August, before we blotted out the sun with our econo-missiles and everyone turned out their pockets.

And to hear the New York Post's remaining batty old gossipeuse Cindy Adams tell it, Carter's new uptown venture, the be-muraled Monkey Bar, is basically as exclusive as the Red Lobster on a Tuesday afternoon:

Unlike superprecious Waverly, this place will actually have a phone number, eventually open for lunches and happily feature comfort food like chili, scrambled eggs, Meatloaf Nora from Nora Ephron's recipe. Prices are reasonable. And with a candle in a glass at each table, lighting's good.

Sounds like an old people place! I mean, with like a telephone and everything! Is this the end of clubhouse dining?

Just had my dining experience at Posto enhanced by the sight of JIMMY FALLON getting kicked out on his skinny butt...a nice little fistfight ensued...better call the makeup dept in early on Monday!

But: it's nice to see that Jimmy is filling the NY Media Personality Pugilist void created by the death of Steve Dunleavy.

Bottoms up!

What sort of monster could punch Jimmy Fallon right in his smug, snickering face? The hardly-amusing talk show host's own, be-twitted explanation was rather more prosaic:

# actually asked to leave a pizza place today
about 13 hours ago from web

# Posto on 2nd (they also own Gruppo and Vezzo)
about 13 hours ago from web

# carb face carol rude to my 2 year old niece and an 11 month old (sleeping) because they heard i didnt like the pizza there.about 13 hours ago from web

# crazy.
about 13 hours ago from web

Blah blah blah, then he goes on and on about it. So was there really a fistfight, and if so, was Jimmy Fallon kicking some serious ass, or what? We must get to the bottom of this important issue. Just Twitter about it, Jimmy. You know you want to.

One of our foodiest friends, erstwhile Gawker Joshua David Stein, recently spoke with Ed Sorel, the fellow who crafted the large, backroom mural. Per Carter's request, Sorel created an olio of various 1920's and 30's notables—society scenesters, publishing demigods, and showbiz types. He told JDS:

we decided essentially on a who's who of who is in New York between the wars. We have Fred Astaire, this is the Fred Astaire who appeared on Broadway with his sister. There's also Henry Luce, Herb Ross, Conde Nast, Blanche and Adolph Ochs, the Fitzgeralds—Zelda and F Scott, Billie Rose, Dorothy Parker and Edna Ferber.

So basically the type of people who just won't ever exist anymore because instead of somehow (knew a guy!) getting a table at Monkey Bar and sitting in proximal awe of these storied people, we can just lie on our couches in Brooklyn and type incessantly about them, thus rendering them kinda unfabulous, so why would we want to stare at them at Monkey Bar in the first place? It's kind of a Lost-style time loop sorta thing.

Two guys toting a shotgun knocked on the back door, then busted up in Esca at closing time and headed straight to what they wanted. Very suspicious! Perhaps they were trying to conceal their inside knowledge by then being incredibly stupid?

After pushing the worker aside, the pair went straight to the coat closet and snatched several envelopes...

But the crooks managed to botch the holdup and walk away with only the receipts, sources said.

They had meticulously planned out their entrance, masks, weaponry, target, and escape route. Everything except, you know, what might be in the envelopes they were stealing.

If those envelopes had been full of calamari we would have suspected Mario himself. As it is—probably just the usual suspects. [NYP]

Ramsay, who can probably cook better than any other Tourette's syndrome sufferer, nevertheless seems to be having money problems, if you consider "not paying back loans on time" and "being forced to guarantee your company's loans out of your own pockets" to be money problems, which we do:

According to accounts filed yesterday, his main company, Gordon Ramsay Holdings, has breached its banking covenants - promises made to lenders to secure a loan. Ramsay and his chief executive Chris Hutcheson, who is also his father-in-law, have had to promise to help the company pay its debts if necessary.

Where are the expense account diners when you actually want them? It's safe to say Ramsay is just the leading edge of celebrity chefs with restaurant empires who will be forced to dramatically contract their businesses during this recession. Global networks of overpriced eateries coasting on name recognition just aren't a recession-era thing! We're looking at you, Bobby Flay. And if there are any financial experts who can explain the following in the comments, please do so, because it just sounds bad:

The holding company has also granted loans to Ramsay and his father-in-law, of £80,000 and £530,000 respectively. In a complex arrangement, the two men have also given personal guarantees of £1.6m and £500,000 to secure bank loans.

[Guardian UK]

To launch a new restaurant review series for Examiner.com, Phil Anschutz's experiment in citizen journalism, Laura Rohrman decided to start with the Waverly Inn, which she had apparently been plaintively walking past every night on her way to the gym, fantasizing about the luxe life within the Vanity Fair theme park attraction. But the whole exclusivity thing breaks down when she explains how she scored her table:

So for my first restaurant of the week segment, guess where I had to go? That’s right! Let me in Ye Waverly Inn! Shockingly the reservationist said yes, no problem when I stopped in off the street.

Less than six months ago, we were talking about who to schmooze in order to get a reservation and we noted this sneaky strategy when it worked for a New York Times writer. But now we know it can work for just about anybody.

See, Colicchio's not actually opening a new restaurant; he's starting a venture called "Tom: Tuesday Dinner" that will open up every other Tuesday, then disappear! The first exotic location for your pricey meal? A "tiny space" in the private dining room of Craft, another one of his already existing restaurants!

Reservations will be taken by telephone six weeks in advance, and the price of the meal ($150 to $250 depending on the menu) will have to be prepaid with a credit card. Menus will only be announced about a week before each meal; they will be posted on a website, tomtuesdaydinner.com.

If this works out, we're starting a new venture: "Track me down at an undisclosed location and pay me $1,000 and I will tell you where the nearest McDonald's is."

Though he deems it "satisfactory," Bruni points out Michael's most obvious flaw: it charges outrageous prices to people who want to see and be seen, so who cares about the food? I'll tell you who: Frank Bruni.

The shrimp were entombed in a dense, soggy beer batter and interred in an almost monochromatic landscape of goat cheese, puddles of dark miso aioli and shavings of summer truffle that might have been shavings of summer rubber for all the flavor they had.

California cuisine? More like gloppy, affected pub grub, for which Michael’s charges $25

Zing! You could have had a corner seat, Frank, but now forget it. How about the obligatory media-food tie-in?

Across a series of visits I had some enjoyable food, notably the renowned Cobb salad, less a salad than an entire ecosystem, vast and verdant, with enough avocado to feed three I.C.M. agents or five Vogue editors.

Gracious. Now back to the main point:

And shouldn’t a diner paying $38 for sea scallops get more than two, situated at opposite ends of a long hillock of sautéed snow pea leaves?

Also keep in mind Michael's is hated by its own waiters, and its sommelier gave Bruni a bum recommendation on Chardonnay. On the upside, you are guaranteed to meet Laurel Touby there.

[NYT; pic via Radar]

I mean the restaurant has a jacket-required dress code, for God's sake. Their tasting menu is $220 a head (with wine pairings)! It's one of those storied haunts that needs only to quietly go about its gourmet way to drum up praise and customers. But now, like Faye Dunaway and now Vogue before it, Le Bernardin is bowing down to the reality gods in search of, well, that hideous term "relevance." While this evening's reserved patrons won't actually be served by the blotto, under-the-bus-throwing, vain yet desperate contestants, they still have to sign waivers (to be faxed over!) and deal with camera crews and all that reality jazz.

CUSTOMER 1: I do say, Harold, there seems to be a lapel mic in my Kindai Maguro.

CUSTOMER 2: Oh Evelyn, do shut your face.

6/22/08

WE HEAR: THAT Stephen Colbert will belt out the National Anthem at the Partnership for Public Service gala Tuesday night at Cipriani 42nd Street, where Police Commissioner Ray Kelly will be presented with the Theodore Roosevelt Award by his friend, Attorney General Andrew Cuomo.

6/19/08

SIGHTINGS: "DANCING With the Stars" runner-up Jason Taylor and former Miami Dolphins teammate Dan Marino backing up Carlos Santana on bongos and cowbell at the Samsung Four Seasons of Hope Gala at Cipriani Wall Street.

5/25/08

WE HEAR: The 540 Latino-philes at Cipriani 42nd Street the other night applauded the news that Goya Foods owners Joseph and Carmen de Unanue donated $3 million to the Fifth Avenue museum of Hispanic culture.

5/20/08

WE HEAR: THAT comic Lewis Black will perform at the 21st Anniversary Gala of the Cooke Center for Learning and Development tomorrow at Cipriani 42nd Street.

4/29/08

WE HEAR: THAT John Catsimatidis is being honored with Frankie Valli by the Friars Club on June 16 at Cipriani 42nd Street, where the cast of Broadway's "Jersey Boys" will perform.

1/26/08

WE HEAR: THAT the Halcyon Company will auction off a walk-on role in "Terminator Salvation" during the Cipriani AmFAR event Thursday.

.

[Outside of Page Six, we should note, the Post seems to cover Cipriani's troubles pretty aggressively.]

One official says the company has tried to walk a fine line with its response, maintaining the chain's wholesome image without alienating potential customers. "I don't feel comfortable talking about this...because it is a complicated issue for the brand," says Michele Kay, executive vice president of WPP Group's Grey advertising firm, which handles the Olive Garden account.

The purported issue here is whether companies should embrace "rogue" famous fans, even if they're as disreputable as—the two examples actually used—a Playboy model or a rapper. In other words: how does corporate America deal with blacks and loose women?

Olive Garden, of course, is foolish. A blond Playboy model perfectly embodies their outward deliciousness and inner emptiness. Don't let her defect to Applebee's, you fools.

[WSJ; pic via Evil Beet]