An Open Letter to the Host at Silver Trumpet
Photo by Meranda Carter
To the gentleman at Silver Trumpet who seated us on Thursday, Nov. 10:
I owe you an apology. You see, I lied to you. As you showed me to my seat, you asked me politely, "You have the same last name as the OC Weekly food writer. Are you him?"
Flustered and quite shocked that my cover was blown, I blurted out, "No, I'm not."
I immediately felt terrible . . . not because, for the first time, I was identified as a reviewer, but that I had to be evasive to you about it. At that point, my reaction became a desperate act to make sure I wasn't going to get any special treatment--that the food I was about to taste would be the same for me as it would be for any other customer. After the meal was over and I paid the check, I intended to come clean to you, to tell you that you were right, that I was that guy, but you weren't around.
It was all because of my carelessness. I had made the reservation using the Open Table app on my phone, not realizing it was logged in with my real name, not an alias. And when I arrived at the restaurant and you asked for my last name, I said it by reflex--a perfect storm of stupidity on my part.
I'm not even sure if you believed me, but as the meal I had at this first visit was the disappointing prix fixe I mentioned in my review and the better meal was the one I had weeks later when I returned and you weren't there, it seemed it wouldn't have made a difference.
Nevertheless, I apologize. You got me. I do hope, however, you've forgotten what I look like by now. I'd like to come back to eat there and just be another one of your well-treated customers.
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