The other day I saw a headline of what I swear was an Atlantic article that, despite my best internet sleuthing, I cannot find, which is a shame because I think it might back up my theory—not a new theory, mind you, but one that came roaring back into my subconscious after a particularly bad (and expensive) dinner—does being rich erode your sense of taste?
The article title I swear I saw (which very well could’ve been a dream or mind trick) was “The More Succesful People Get, The Dumber They Get,” which, again, based on my rich people theory I think I agree with (keeping in mind, however, that “successful” is pretty subjective).
My friend Jacki was in town in July and wanted to go to one “nice” (also subjective!) dinner at a restaurant she hadn’t been to yet (she visits pretty regularly). I sent her some options, and she picked a restaurant that shall not be named (but that’s attached to a very expensive, very trendy hotel with good reviews both online…and via word of mouth).
While it wasn’t the most costly meal I’ve had in Asheville (it wasn’t cheap, either), it was one of the worst. All three of us at dinner got a steak, which was $39.00 and was supposed to be served with sauce, potatoes (sorry…frites—I am typically wary of anywhere that calls potatoes frites), and a salad.
The steak came with very little sauce…and minimal seasoning. I’m a medium rare guy, and while it was medium rare, it wasn’t hot, and there was very little crust to be seen. I’m also deliberately using the word “steak” and not “steaks” here because you can’t convince me we weren’t served one steak cut into three portions. I’m typically not a big believer in ordering steak when dining out (this steak’s unique sauce got my attention) because I think the price markup is a racket (seriously, all the best steaks I’ve had have been homemade), but at least typically, you overpay for a full steak. This was probably five mouthfuls, at best.
The frites took up most of the plate and were…underseasoned fried potatoes (not even fries, nor wedges…just…chunks).
The salad was legitimately a handful of spring mix, the kind I could get at Ingles for $3.49 a bag.
All this, and the next day when I went online to read reviews: all four stars. All raving. Several call out how good the steak is and how they can’t wait to return for it. I almost left a negative review after reading this—something I’m typically against and never do—and only stopped myself because our server had done such a fantastic job.
I’ve sort of turned the subtext of this blog into an anti-fine-dining screed, but honestly, I can’t help it. It just blows my mind how much truly overpriced, truly mediocre food this town has and how much hype it gets. Like, do you at some point have so much money that you just get fooled into thinking that just because something is expensive, it’s good? I’m starting to think so.
Watch this space for more on this subject next time I willingly go to an overpriced restaurant.
Editor’s Note: To protect the guilty, the header photograph is a delicious pork Katsu from Huli Sue’s BBQ, which I was delighted by, and will be having again.
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