I look forward to receiving my weekly copy of The New Yorker, but I expect higher standards of fact-checking than they seem to muster at the moment.
The current issue has an article by Adam Gopnik which is largely about a restaurant called St John’s. The opening sentence refers to Smithfield market in the “East End” of London.
Anyone familiar with London will know that Smithfield isn’t remotely in the East End. It is in a western corner of the City of London. The East End lies to the east of the City.
To us Merkans, everything east of the Inns of Court is the “East End” of London
🙂
The Governor of the Bank of England would find that an interesting point of view.
Never mind the fact that the readers of TNY are expected to understand a reference to venerable Fleet Street tourist trap Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese. Even most Londoners wouldn’t get that.
I haven’t even bothered to go into his claims that chef Fergus Henderson is a major cultural figure in the UK. He’s known to the readers of Observer Food Monthly. Full stop. Hardly Jamie Oliver (thank god).
And what’s with this claim that Americans have been unable to get hold of Nose to Tail Eating? It is simplicity itself to go to Amazon.co.uk (and I see that Amazon.com also lists the UK edition).
Also the description of the bar at St John’s as being “cathedral-like” is a desperate slur on any cathedral I’ve ever been in.
And I say this as someone who likes St John’s.
Gopnik 1.0 — the NY art tart — was fabulous. Gopnik 2.0 — the expat in Paris with his fluffy memoirettes — was occasionally excellent, much as I hate to admit it now. Gopnik 3.0 — Back in New York — is atrocious and borderline unreadable. He’s not as bad as Denby, whom I make it a point never to read. But he’s pretty bloody dreadful most of the time, and this piece is no exception. Send him to the bottom of the ocean, along with John McPhee and his interminable shad, and get some fresh blood on board.