2. You argue that gentrification does not necessitate enhanced taste, but neither does gentrification necessitate a loss of taste. Case in point: Brodard is a clean, well-run operation, but it is also universally accepted as the champion of their signature spring rolls (cuon nem nuong). There is a reason why you have to wait more than an hour during lunchtime for a seat here. That's because these spring rolls are only second to cuon nem nuong in Saigon. Oh, but it's not a hole in the wall! It's not cramped! It doesn't reek of fish sauce! It costs a lot more than many other places serving spring rolls! Oh, no, a contradiction! Guess you shouldn't go, in case your head explodes. . . . Don't be a snobby jackass who pretends to know a thing or two about cheap Vietnamese grub. Acting the opposite of some diners who prefer nicer environments doesn't make you any better than "some diners." In the end, you're just the same as some diners, trying to find a relationship between service and taste, be it directly or inversely proportional.
3. Bun bo hue is served at any number of restaurants in Little Saigon. In fact, Quan Hy sells it, too. By morphing your article from an attack piece on a journalist to an advertisement for Bun Bo Hue #1, you have irresponsibly shaped the debate as if My-Thuan Tran is against bun bo hue as a dish. She might as well be against any cultural dish that might be served in any hole-in-the-wall restaurant. She must also hate Banh Beo. And pho. And oh, I don't know, any dish served at any restaurant you would like to advertise for. Again, don't insult your readers' intelligence. Write about restaurants like Bun Bo Hue #1. That's your job. But don't snub other journalists who happen to report on SOME DINERS and the bigger picture.
A true fan of any kind of food, Vietnamese or otherwise, judges on the taste itself, regardless of the quality of presentation, or lack thereof. Some diners care about that presentation; you do not. Fine. But don't let either case bias you against writing about good food. That's your job. Do it right. Leave the bigger picture of reporting on the opinions of some diners, the business of food and the welfare of the Vietnamese community to others more eminently capable of journalism.
In last week's review of The Cut, we said the play Cleansed was penned by Mark Ravenhill when it was actually written by Sarah Kane. Also, critic Stacy Davies called the plays Some Explicit Polaroids and Cleansed "gory" when she really meant "gritty." The Weekly regrets the errors.