You asked us for it, so we had to deliver. The idea behind ‘The Inside Scoop’ is to bring those burning Questions that we all have about other establishments to light. Team shiftdrink put their necks on the line So you could have the most up-to-date information available. Dig in while it’s still fresh… (All sources of information are kept confidential. If you would like to participate in ‘The inside Scoop’ go to the contact us) This week we ventured toMatsugen owned by Jean-Georges and the Matsushita Brothers and this is What we found.
HOW BAD IS THE FAMILY MEAL?
Family meal sucks!!! This successful restaurant team (Jean-Georges) Is always looking for ways to cut expenses, and it usually comes right from the staff. I remember one Night the fed us rice with eggs in it. That’s all. The don’t feed us for lunch shifts or at the end of the night, Either.
HOW’S THE CLIENTELE?
The clientele is pretty good. It is in Tribeca, so the locals are pretty wealthy. Jean-George has a great reputation, so the restaurant is busy. Ever since we got 3 stars from the NY Times, we have a plethora of “fillers” (people who fill the empty seats but don’t spend a lot of money).
Always bring cash and never ask for separate checks. Someone will always have to use plastic, so if this is the case, try to have everyone give cash to the credit card holder, and then they can pay the bill and pocket some free miles or points in the process.
People tend to arrive late. If someone is really dragging let the host know ahead of time to avoid problems. Try to get your party seated early to get the show on the road while you are waiting them.
Appoint two people to orders appetizers for the table, family style, then let everyone order their own entrée. Double up on items from the menu that everyone wants to try.
If you are a wine drinking crew and cost is an issue, try to order only bottles. Keep the bottle under $40 and stick to this theme. Dont waver! (That drunk wine snob, whom you barely know, will try to order something ridiculous just to impress himself, and whoever else in earshot. This will hurt when the bill comes.) P.S. Avoid bottled water.
Nestled on a tree-lined street in Alphabet City is a gem called Matilda.
Its namesake, just shy of four years old, is the inspiration for the restaurant based on meals prepared for her by her Tuscan-Italian mother and Mexican father. The formidable little girl, besides being adorable in braided pig-tails, is intelligent, courageous and naturally very attached to her parents, co-owners Maristella Innocenti and Esteban Molina. It’s fitting that the name Matilda is said to symbolize strength and to mean “powerful in battle,” seeing that her parents affectionately refer to her as “Diavolita,” or “little devil.”
The cuisine showcases the new ideas Maristella and Esteban have surmised over the years in raising and feeding little Matilda. Each loved the other’s native cuisine, and as they began to introduce foods to their child, they would mix-and-match ingredients and come up with plausible recipes. Examples include the brick oven roasted dorade stuffed with epazote and served over rucola with a celery root salad, or the prosciutto panini with mozzarella and a pineapple-habanero-parsley sauce.
I did it. I asked to speak with the manager. I know. I feel like such a scumbag. The shame is weighing on me like a rack of glasses. Help me, Danny Meyer! I’ve burnt sage to exorcise the demons of betrayal. How could I be capable of such a treasonous act? I broke the code of the International Brotherhood Of Those Who Sling Hash: We don’t complain about service. We always say please and thank you. We leave twenty percent. And, we… never… ever… call over the manager.
But I did. A friend of mine was in town from London and her sister suggested we plan a gathering at a popular Mexican restaurant in the East Village. I had dined there before, and my experiences, though not exemplary, were certainly respectable enough not to protest. Of the seven in our party, I was the only one who works in the restaurant industry, so I looked forward to an evening free of bitching about waiting tables. Everything was fine until the entrées arrived.
