It’s glitzy tourist-bait week for the critics. In a review that manages to mention William S. Burroughs and Throbbing Gristle before it ever gets around to Michael Jordan, Mike Sula is somewhat less than wowed, and maybe even a bit baffled by the show and hubbub of Michael Jordan’s Steak House. He finds praise for some of the food, but the overall atmosphere makes him wonder: “Seriously, what is the inherent attraction when professional athletes intersect with steak?… There’s a motto on the wall up there: I was aware of my success but I never stopped trying to get better, which is meant to remind you that if you have the budget to be here, you’re successful enough to order the prime porterhouse for two, an $89 dry-aged souvenir befitting your arrival in Steaktown USA. Be like Mike.” [Reader]
Julia Kramer has something of an opposite reaction to the Pump Room— she loves how Ian Schrager and crew have revitalized the look of the venerable Kup hangout, but gets through a lot of mediocre food and awkward service till she finds something to justify chef Jean-Georges Vongerichten’s rep: “The secret of this food is its spice: It’s the toasty cumin seeds tying together the roasted carrots and dollop of sour cream in a salad—a salad!—that is the best dish I had at the Pump Room. It’s the sweet-spicy chili glaze that kept me coming back to the flaky, greaseless fried chicken. Garlic and jalapeño are at the forefront, imbuing a side of broccoli with a sense of purpose. This is Jean-Georges food, and Phillips is executing it without flaw.” [TOC]
