No one is disputing the quality of the wings. But still.
Editor's note: The Southern Foodways Alliance delves deep in the history, tradition, heroes and plain old deliciousness of Southern food. Today's installment comes courtesy of Amy Evans, oral historian and Eatocracy crush.
Earlier this morning, Dexter Weaver announced on his Facebook page that his namesake restaurant will close its doors at the end of this month:
"Weaver D’s Fine Foods is announcing that we will be closing the restaurant for good 2-3 weeks from today. The restaurant is for sale along with it’s contents. Come and get your last eat-on here at Weaver D’s, where our food has made us world famous for the last 27 1/2 years! Automatic, Dexter Weaver!"
"Thank you for your service, it was excellent. That being said, we cannot in good conscience tip you, for your homosexual lifestyle is an affront to GOD."
A Carraba's waiter in Overland Park, Kansas, received the message above on the back of a credit card receipt, and local patrons are stepping up to show support for him in the form of cold, hard cash.
The handwritten note, which contained derogatory terms for gay people, went on express the customer's counsel that the 20-year-old server examine his life choices lest he be deprived of God's mercy.
Silence is golden. To the patrons of Eat restaurant in Greenpoint, Brooklyn, it's more like $40.
That price tag will buy a four-course dinner served in complete silence. Chef Nicholas Nauman says the concept stems from time he spent in a Buddhist monastery.
Josh Ozersky has written on his carnivorous exploits for Time, Esquire and now Food & Wine; he has authored several books, including The Hamburger: A History; and he is the founder of the Meatopia food festival. Follow him on Twitter @OzerskyTV.
Chefs are not, for the most part, happy people. Let's get that out of the way. They work long hours, they have hardly any home lives to speak of and they spend their whole day being mad at people who hate them right back.
It's a rough job. But it doesn't make it any easier when diners (in their minds, anyway) go out of their way to make them miserable. And while there are many ways diners can make chefs hate them, these five are surely near the top of the list.
The world has gone crazy for hybrid pastries.
In New York, fans continue to stand outside the Dominique Ansel bakery every morning to buy the fried, cream-filled hybrid known as the Cronut. Its popularity has since spread to London, and Starbucks looked to get in on the hybrid craze by unveiling their own “Frankenpastry,” a donut-muffin concoction called the Duffin.
On its website, Starbucks UK proudly noted that the company “sat together with our bakers” to create a pastry that combined “the iconic shape” of a muffin with “the elements of a traditional jam-filled donut.”
Sounds tasty, right? Not to Bea Vo.
Seoul's ever-shifting restaurant and bar scene is dependent on the fickle nature of Korean eaters.
This makes the capital a dangerous place to attempt new ideas, yet one that also forces restaurateurs and bar owners to embrace innovation and change.
A dozen noteworthy arrivals have opened in the past year and a half. They're listed here in alphabetical order.
Kate Krader (@kkrader on Twitter) is Food & Wine's restaurant editor. When she tells us where to find our culinary heart's desire, we listen up.
Last week, we got to talk about restaurants that have banned kids from their dining rooms.
Here’s something else other than badly behaved kids that can be annoying to diners: overactive cell phone users. Recently, NYU professor Anna Akbar suggested to CNN the “phone stack” game: When you go out to eat, everyone must put their cells in the middle of the table. Whoever is first to give in to the urge to check their device has to pay for dinner.
Here are several places in sync with the phone stack game.
I grew up in New York City during the 1970s and 1980s, eating out and drinking regularly several nights a week. I vividly recall what it was like to be near smokers, whether it was my friends sucking down cloves at the bars (we were 14), weird old men immersed in a smoky haze at the local coffee shop, or grandpa Ed lighting up a cigar at the fancy seafood joint (he gave me the band to wear as a ring, so I was cool with it).
I never liked smoke or smoking, but the law didn’t forbid it back then and people just accepted it as a part of our culture, like being near a smelly person who doesn’t use deodorant. What are you going to do? Outlaw that? Part of the ritual of going out was coming home smelling like smoke - and hoping no one would light up at a good restaurant and impose cigarette smell on the rest of us.