Charlie Rose, Chicken Thief - Grub Street - New York Magazine:
This is where things get ethically fuzzy: Not more than three minutes later, our chicken — and there is no doubt that it was our bird, ordered at least 45 minutes earlier and eagerly anticipated — was whisked by our cramped two-top and ceremoniously presented to Rose, who proceeded to carve it up as we sat, jaws agape and mouths watering. It was a lovely burnished creature, all crackling skin and juicy flesh, and we had the distinct pleasure of watching him gobble it down like a lumberjack who has recently renounced the Calorie Restriction diet. Finally, because there was really no way of disguising such blatant preferential treatment, the buxom blonde hostess who was personally tending to Mr. TV’s needs swooped over and crouched down in a position that conspicuously blocked our view of the pilfered bird and its wrongful owner, and in a chirpy voice delivered this quasi-apology: “There’s bad news. Your chicken accidentally went to another table, but since it takes twenty minutes to fire up a new one, we’ve decided to give you a mid-course of pasta on the house.” The good news? “If you’re full, you’ll be able to take home some chicken!”
9:56 PM
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