This is one of the funniest things I’ve read in a while.
An American (either travel writer or restaurant reviewer) goes to Florence and has a little pilgrimage to her favourite restaurant, now 50 years since she’s been going there, with her family including granddaughter.
The restaurant, whether for its excellence or the nostalgia provided to the writer, gets a glowing review in the New York Times, complete with elaborate descriptions of the food.
The writer’s granddaughter inspired “extraordinary attention from the staff”, which is another way of saying the Italians recognised an American family and were suitably indulgent.
However, it all sounds like it was a very pleasant meal and the writer assures us that the prices were moderate but didn’t say exactly how much.
I was thinking of visiting one day until I read a review from 2spaghi on the same restaurant.
Perhaps a little too hyberbolic but amusing all the same given the above article.
In this case, the reviewer, a local, goes to the same restaurant and writes an extremely disparaging piece that includes everything from food quality and quantity, to the service and right down to paying the bill – an experience described as wonderful when you think you finally get to leave the place, and terrible when you realise you have to pay.