"Note to D'Angelo: It's only food, dude (dood). Get over yourself!"
Outcry Over Crib Piece
The Reader received a flood of responses to Mike Sula's Omnivorous column, "You Can't Eat There" (March 28). Here's a taste:
Yes, Chicago is starting to be recognized as the international city it really is, just without all the bullshit. A very livable world-class city. Known for its theater and restaurant scenes for decades by locals, it has become a destination for many. Charlie Trotter's or Devon Avenue? That is until now, with the Crib and its 24-year-old enfant terrible, Albert D'Angelo. The bullshit has arrived.
I cannot wait to see D'Angelo's place fail miserably!! Unfortunately for him, that type of arrogance doesn't fly here in Chicago. People from the left and right coasts keep trying to come here with that kind of attitude and they ALWAYS fail.
Note to D'Angelo: It's only food, dude (dood). Get over yourself!
Wow, Albert D'Angelo is living on a different planet. It's good that he's way out on the lake so he doesn't have to mingle with the riffraff of Chicago. Bragging about calling the INS on "territorial" line cooks and what other animals you can force feed for big livers definitely sounds like a stereotype of the 24-year-old son of a NYSE trader. Tres rebellious!! As far as having "paid his dues" though, I'm not buying it. Most of those who have paid their dues have to save $1,600 for house payments, rather than a seat at the chef's table. This guy gives pot smoking cooks a bad name, sheesh!!
Sushi on a naked girl, his? They've been doing that for a hundred years in Osaka. What a loser.
That Crib sounds like a fucking JOKE! Daddy should get his trust fund back.
How is this kid going to get deliveries speedboat—how is the staff going to get there... speedboat? Is this a fucking joke?
It's true! My condo faces the lake and I've seen the speedboat.
Fattened liver of anything still sounds incredibly gross and inhumane....
People who resort to calling things like that delicacies are tragic, sad beings who apparently live such lonely lives that they have to find disturbing ways to distinguish themselves.
The guy sounds like a jerk. My boyfriend was going to call with his out of state number and try to get a reservation just to stick it to 'em a little, but after reading about him and hearing his attitude, I don't even care enough to do that.
The April Fools are anyone that gives this restaurant a second thought.
Just a plain masterful bit of satire. One of those moments, like when you swing your car door shut and see the keys are still in the ignition, and you know you're screwed.
Well done all around, both in Mike Sula's writing, and your balls for running it. How many calls have you received looking for the telephone number?
Friend or Foe?
Comments on "Mission Diminished" by Deanna Isaacs, The Business, March 20
One of the saddest aspects of this very sad story is that with the exception of "present company" and a few others (the Trib is playing catch-up now), the board must have figured they could get away with their scam because the local media would respond with a shrug, which is pretty much what they've done. It appears that at the other papers, until recently, no one thought to question the board's intentions, as if to say, "Hey, well, these folks all seem to be highly respectable muckety-mucks. What reason would THEY have to misrepresent themselves to us?" In this town, back in the day, that degree of naivete in a reporter would guarantee him or her permanent reassignment to loading paper into the teletype. No wonder no one wants to buy their tacky rags any more. Broadcast media, of course, wouldn't know the difference between a Three Arts Club and a golf club. No worries there for a pack of speculating jackals on the Three Arts Board.
I do appreciate that the Reader has stayed on this story for quite some time, as it escalated from fiasco to tragedy to catastrophe, and that the Friends of the Three Arts have not given up on this fight. A lot of folks in a lot of places have dropped the ball on this one and still they won't give up. Which proves, I guess, how successful the Three Arts Club was when it followed its mission.
To all of the so-called "Friends of 3Arts": You want to look at who's to blame for this fiasco? Look in the mirror. The board was unable to raise the money required to renovate the building due in large part to your efforts and the slipshod "journalism" of this paper. It was you who created a phony controversy and scared away donors. As SueBascoIsCrazy put it, $1.5 million, or the $3 million you initially pulled out of thin air, to bring the building up to code can't even pass the laugh test. You couldn't do the plumbing for that amount. Apparently you were all happy to turn John Holabird's legacy into your personal fleabag flophouse for eternity. This would have been a valuable asset to the arts community in Chicago, providing arts education to people of all ages and economic backgrounds. Now it will become a playground for the over-rich. And you have no one but yourselves to blame.