Get the latest scoop on the Bay Area dining scene from a panel of restaurant critics.

Host: Michael Krasny

Guests:

• Jan Newberry, food editor for San Francisco Magazine Eat & Drink
• Jonathan Kauffman, food critic for SF Weekly
• Marcia Gagliardi, food critic for tablehopper.com
• Stett Holbrook, food editor for Metro Silicon Valley metroactive: SanJose.com

Related Links:
EaterSF: Top Bay Area Food Writers Reveal Candid Faves on KQED

At the Hospitalitarianism panel, the tablehopper's Marcia Gagliardi chatted with Umberto Gibin (Perbacco, barbacco), Annie Stoll (Delfina), Giancarlo Paterlini (Acquerello), Nick Peyton (Cyrus) and Tim Stannard (Pizzeria Antica, Spruce, Cafe Des Amis). Stannard fielded one of the toughest questions, when Gagliardi asked him how he knows who will make it, who won’t, and how do you let people know.

The takeaway messages included these tasty nuggets: Yelp can be painful for restaurateurs, but is a source of information. Tim Stannard reads a thick stack of Yelp reviews along with any and every blog post or other review each Monday. Social media geeks, these pros wish you would stop "Twittering at the table," (Stannard) and taking pictures of food before eating it.

Some San Francisco spots have adopted their own service style, which may mean ditching the serving tray (looking at you, Delfina). Annie Stoll worked at a spot that required delivery of drinks via tray, and there was always a shortage of trays. She had guests seated by the bar, and was frustrated by not being able to get them their drinks via hand delivery. "So no trays at Delfina," she said.

Flour + Water did the right thing by having Steve Jobs wait in line like everyone else. Also, the restaurateurs felt Jobs behaved well by playing along as the rest of the general public.

Hospitality is in one’s blood, and some industry veterans felt drawn to restaurants at a young age.

Good people make a restaurant a success; and aggressively hiring the friends of stellar staff is one way to build a team.

Peterlini admitted he was born a maitre’d, and has kept the same team of nine or ten waiters for the last twenty years. “They know the drill,” Peterlini said, adding “I don’t like people to talk a lot (to guests). Use a lot of eye contact.” Stoll reflected on her first fancy meal at a restaurant at age 12; she used her first credit card to dine out as much as possible. As much as she loves the industry, she wouldn’t necessarily have her young daughter go into the same profession.

Stannard, who just opened Café Des Amis, has a high retention rate of staff and joked that he opens new restaurant locations as a way to keep folks engaged in a career with his group. “They’re going to grow somewhere, and I’d rather it be with us,” he said. The panel agreed that feeling welcomed by staff at a restaurant is always a goal, and that they want to walk out of a place that doesn’t do that. Technical service is one thing, a warm and eager environment can almost over ride a misplaced fork.

"Ame has a new chef," my girlfriend just told me. "You should review it soon."
"Where did you hear that?" I asked.
"Tablehopper," she said.

The routine unfolds at least once a week. A day later, she dropped another morsel from Marcia Gagliardi's weekly e-column in an email with a link to Heart's enticing brunch menu. "Duck scrapple -- sounds good," she wrote. Whenever she has food-related news to share, nine times out of ten, Gagliardi's the source.

I suspect that she is nearly everyone's source, and I wonder why her column has been so successful. She supplies news, reviews, and gossip in one hefty dose every seven days, a slow stream of information by today's media standards; she can't begin to keep up with local food blogs able to post fresh content every few minutes. Likewise, the ubiquity and influence of her weekly missives can't be attributed to content. After all, most food blogs tell you the same stuff much of the time -- who is in, who is out, what is new, and what is hot around the region's food and drink scene. As tidbits of interest get recycled, posted to social networking sites, and otherwise tossed around, slightly varied versions of the same p.r.-planted stories end up peppering the Internet. While she writes entertaining reviews and amuses with her Page 6-like lines on where Hollywood stars and celebrity chefs end up grubbing when they breeze through town, Gagliardi's main strengths are her personality as conveyed through her writing and her organizational prowess. Her columns come to your email inbox, and you read them like you would scan through an email. They're written in an informal, conversational, fun, flirty, personal sort of way. She tells you where she's been -- perhaps a vacation, to Spain or India -- and how she's been -- happy, busy, or sick, maybe -- and lets you know what tasty treats she's uncovered in the past week. She arranges the information she provides clearly and effectively. As you scroll down, each regular section comes tagged with a cute little header. There's a consistent look, appealing feel, and pure readability to it, and that helps define her brand as much as the way she writes.

This week, her brand gets a little bigger and somewhat bolder with the release of her debut book, "The Tablehopper's Guide to Dining and Drinking in San Francisco: Find the Right Spot for Every Occasion." Because there are so many online forums for restaurants and bar recommendations -- like Yelp, Chowhound, and the aforementioned cabal of blogs -- the idea of physically publishing such a book (particularly one so focused in scope) feels like a retro endeavor. Furthermore, as Gagliardi herself lays out in the book, the restaurant business is highly changeable, especially in the midst of a wicked recession. Chefs get new gigs. Places shutter, and others spring up. Pop-up restaurants and mobile food carts are tenuous in the first place. Over the course of a year, the city's food-scape shifts a lot, which is where that weekly e-column comes in handy. The book is a stand-alone summer of 2009 snapshot of one person's favorite places to eat and booze in San Francisco. Will it be useful, even pertinent, in two or three years?

Most popular guidebooks are published by companies with recognizable names internationally trusted for reliability and the rigor with which they dissect a restaurant scene. The brands are expressions of tradition and experience, not personality. Fittingly, their books typically organize the included establishments by neighborhood and cuisine. Gagliardi's tome takes a different path to the glove-box, re-imagining the guidebook form as a funny little pocket concierge that speaks with an enthusiastic, almost antagonistic version of the lively cackle audible in her weekly e-columns. She comes off like a knowing, slightly loud friend reciting a manic monologue. She suggests restaurants based on occasion, not cuisine, effectively organizing her book around why people eat at restaurants -- to celebrate, to romance, to get away, to do business. In town for a convention? Try Waterbar, she advises, noting its "power booths facing the bay" and $20 Bloody Marys. Out on the town with a "Cool (or Bad or Gay) Uncle?" Take him to EPIC Roasthouse for "a variety of options for meaty indulgence, like marrow bones, a porterhouse pork chop, prime rib, and five styles of potatoes," she says, with the authority of someone who has almost certainly done so. She also lists foods folks commonly seek out -- burritos, falafel, dumplings, and chilaquiles -- and includes her favorites. The suggestions appear to spring from the life she has led, and, appropriately, she makes the book personal in every sense, advising readers of eateries catering to customers with special dietary needs, diners with small children, and industry professionals. She tells you where she drank (Dalva) after she lost her last full-time job. She curates business lunches, reconciliatory dinners, quiet nights alone, and tense summits with the in-laws. She wants you to take the information personally, and use it accordingly. In this sense, the book might suit locals more than tourists, new arrivals planning to stay for a while and carve out food-happy routines amongst the city's hills, valleys, parks, and palms. Likewise, framed as such -- a stomach-centric road map for future memories -- it might have a longer life span than your average Zagat.

In assessing this book, you have to talk about Gagliardi's distinctive voice, and style. While those are elements infrequently crucial to the function of conventional guidebooks, here they strike me as inseparable from the content. Gagliardi isn't just peddling her recommendations; she's selling herself, a larger-than-life swashbuckling socialite persona a reader is supposed to find charming, funny, intriguing, and insightful. She dares her audience to flip through the pages for amusement, not just for the practical purpose of finding a good place to eat.

If you take the bait, you might find that persona hard to swallow in hearty helpings. She affects different tones for different topics, channeling a high-fiving keg-tapping dude-yelping frat guy in "For the Fellas" and then a shoe-crazed Sex in the City-aping dame in "For the Ladies." In the world she presents -- surely, hopefully, somewhat facetiously -- dudes like tearing up red meat and chasing cougars ("rawr"), and women enjoy tittering about shoes they saw on sale at Bloomies. In her preamble to the sub-section "Ladies Who Lunch," Gagliardi gets painfully fabulous: "'Ooooh, love the bag.' 'Your hair looks great.' 'He did not say that! What a pig.' 'Another bottle, please.' All that and more. Girl, let's taaaaaalk!" She goes on to recommend Cafe Claude for hot "French-accented garcons," apparently "one of the most important components of a ladies' lunch." Her constant semi-creative enlistment of foreign lingo in entries for Spanish, Mexican, and Italian restaurants is another tedious shtick. She's "an amiga" of the al pastor pork at Taqueria Cancun. Valencia St. cocktails-and-'za spot Beretta has taken off like a "casa on fire." Velvet Cantina's bartenders are "caliente." She's a freewheeling Berlitz gone haywire. She also routinely swings for the fences with punch-lines flimsier than half-frozen phyllo. Of Terzo, Gagliardi writes: "[J]ust in case you're a bad girl, the crispy onions are delicious. . .the look is postmodern, rustic hip, just like your sexy boots." She ruminates on "the newest Hayes Valley (excuse me, 'Zen Valley') location" of Samovar Tea Lounge. I read that and wonder if I should OMG or just LOL. Assuming Gagliardi is a hip, hip lady (like Martha Washington) merely having a good time, the fat layer of formaggio must be an act, a role she is playing, a joke consistently and thoroughly embodied in the interest of toying with guidebook decorum.

Instead of getting a lift from such antics, this book truly succeeds in a strictly practical sense. As someone who loves to eat and earns a little scratch writing about food, I think I know a thing or two about the city's dining scene. Gagliardi knows a lot about the subject, certainly more than I do, and in poring over the pages, my excitement peaks, not when I absorb left-field suggestions I don't anticipate, but when I realize that Gagliardi and I agree about a lot of stuff. We like the same chilaquiles -- vastly different yet equally satisfying variations on the theme at Los Jarritos and Pastores. We both like our burritos toasted on the outside like they're done at Taqueria Castillito near the Safeway on Market and Church. She flips for the spread of dips and pita at Old Jerusalem, and so do I. She recommends La Ciccia's incomparable fregola pasta, and so do I. She likes to get drunk at the Lone Palm, and so do I. These morsels -- our independent shared experiences -- must reveal more about her character than the bad jokes and witticisms flatter than tap water. Regardless of how much fun she had writing it, her book -- clearly designed to be fun -- isn't something I want to curl up with. With tips like these, it doesn't have to be.

Last week, Bay Area Bites blogger Stephanie Im called attention to Secret San Francisco's popular Facebook presence. A few days before Im's post appeared, I myself joined the group with a few lazy clicks, galvanized into action by the droves of friends doing the same. At least, with its relentless updates regarding their statuses, Facebook made me feel like I was part of a movement. "Is it because we all love a juicy secret? Is it because we're bored?" wondered Im in her piece. "Perhaps we gravitate to these projects because they exude a sense of authenticity, of being 'in the know,' and part of something special and communal," she continued. "Or, it could simply be...some things are just too good to keep to ourselves."

Im listed the Iso Rabins-curated Underground Farmers Markets, Mission Street Food's feasts at Lung Shan, and all manner of street carts as the sorts of secrets worth shouting around, but those examples might as well be echos -- almost old news to studious, Internet-savvy members of the eats-frenzied populous. At this point, despite their youth and D.I.Y. ethos, they are institutions, pillars of the city's mainstream, well-documented food culture. Still, regardless of your personal familiarity with Im's suggestions, Secret San Francisco makes its mission clear enough: "Share San Francisco's secrets! Post any lesser known great places to see in San Francisco. Please give details of how we can locate it and what makes it a hidden gem."

A certain variety of hard-charging food sleuth elitist loves dropping a rarified knowledge of the city's unheralded offerings. Another group of elitists takes no less pleasure in heaping abuse on the first for drawing attention to the sneaky little places they covet for themselves. Occasionally, they invade Secret San Francisco's Facebook page. The best naysayers employ deadpan sarcasm. One suggests Burger King for a great hamburger; another celebrates a little grocery store called Safeway. Some however directly criticize eager posters for sharing too much, operating under the not unreasonable logic that widespread publicity on behalf of something unknown tends to make that thing known pretty well very quickly. What if your favorite bowl of pho suddenly became half the city's favorite too? Would it suddenly start tasting a little bland and watery? Would you tell yourself that the cook was slipping? Would you maybe start believing that he'd gotten so drunk on the fame Facebook had brought his pho, that he'd -- with pungent irony -- neglected to keep preparing it with quality in mind? Or would you still love that pho but merely hate the swiftly forming crowds -- lines of pho-fanatics at the door, arriving earlier and earlier each morning, leaning against the cafe's glass windows, poking away at iPhones, waiting for the sign to flip. With their incessant chatter and their rows of white order tickets fluttering in the kitchen window, the people on the sidewalk swarming in -- presumably without jobs to attend, errands to run, or any otherwise consuming pursuits -- would scuttle your plans for timely lunch-break repasts. You'd stop going altogether. The cafe would start selling its pho at a stand outside the Ferry Building on Saturday mornings. The price would double. Amanda Gold would write about it. You'd find another favorite pho spot, which might or might not be an attention-seeking copy of the one you started out loving in the first place.

To shuffle in a music world hypothetical: If guttural blips, synthetic gurgles, and ambient drones suddenly enjoyed broad popularity, and noise bands displaced Jay-Z, The Killers, and Coldplay at the top of the charts, would the bands' old fans -- Aquarius Records employees, mostly -- take solace in the Black Eyed Peas, by now a fringe retro-pop act struggling to pack Bottom of the Hill on forays through the Bay Area? Probably not, but people stressing out over the decreased edginess of what they consume -- whether it be music or a bowl of pho -- tend to be overly concerned with how their consumption patterns reflect upon them as people -- at least, no less concerned than those who fire up the laptop every time they trip over a good sandwich.

In a comment to Im's post, Haggie (one name, like Madonna) accused Secret San Francisco of catering to "lazy suburb dweller[s]" trolling websites for cool food scenes to muck up. While it's pretty far-fetched to claim that "anyone...[living] in San Francisco knows about the secret spots" already, Haggie does have a point, albeit one couched in excessively feisty lingo. Since witnessing a half-block line curling along the pavement outside of Lung Shan on a Thursday evening at 5:35 p.m. nearly eight months ago, I have not even tried to go to Mission Street Food -- not because I think popularity has dulled the value or coolness of the operation's goals in the slightest, but because I don't like to wait. Waiting might not be a problem anymore. And I could always make a reservation, I guess, but just remembering the line makes me think of crowds, which I don't like -- and suddenly the idea of going starts feeling like an ordeal to weather.

One problem with Secret San Francisco's Facebook page is the fact that restaurant owners post on it about events happening at their own establishments. That is sort of lame, just on principle. I won't mention any of the names I recognized, but I have seen a few things written by a few people probably largely interested in generating business for themselves, not spreading the wealth of shared experience. Likewise, incidentally, some of the exuberant laudatory posts regarding bands I have never ever heard of come off as plants by members, friends of members, or girlfriends or boyfriends of members. The thing has been around for a few weeks and it's already nearly as tainted as Yelp, that dinosaur of a site plagued by posters grubbing for freebies by way of harsh critiques -- many of which seem far-fetched. On Yelp, after all, a reviewer might give a pupusa place two stars and claim a general deep-seated aversion to pupusas as sole cause for the expressed discontent.

The Internet insists on constantly providing us with new ways of searching out, organizing, and assessing the stuff we like to do in the city. Restaurants, bars, grocery stores, and street carts enjoy an absurd amount of attention on Twitter, Chowhound message-boards, assorted iPhone apps, Tablehopper (along with less ubiquitous electronic bulletins), and of course, now Secret San Francisco. The subjects are not necessarily new, but the channels of communication are configured differently with each innovation and trend. I don't want to blame them for all of the potential problems associated with the rampant sharing of the city's secrets. The real problem is that people have too much time on their hands, and they're choosing to spend it online, telling everyone they can about what they like and do not like. In addition to actually working at work, getting exercise, and playing with their kids, people should walk around and physically see the city for something other than a flickering stew of html, updates, messages, and links.

As a writer who masquerades as a blogger, I frequently fall prey to the tendency. On a daily basis, I must look for fresh topics to cover, and sometimes that leads me to rely too much on the Internet's ever-changing spectrum of social networking possibilities for inspiration. Someone reports something -- a secret, maybe -- and it ricochets off of other websites. It's linked, and re-linked, Tweeted, and re-Tweeted, posted, and re-posted. Writers here and there lackadaisically re-write the news as fresh content for a site, and the process starts again and again with slightly different slants each time. Within 24 hours, the secret is out like a light, nearly all bases are covered, and the story is as dead as a slab of fish on ice -- all thanks to the publicity pinball machine.

At times, I wonder how my very minor contributions to the maelstrom affect restaurants and businesses. I'll walk past a restaurant and think: Wow, I'm here, for the first time; I wrote about their egg salad special last week -- I wonder if they're selling more egg salad now. I'd just as soon turn off the computer and poke around the city and write about what I uncover. When content is required to circulate so rapidly, that vein of information-gathering is inefficient. Though I do my best, I wouldn't have time to do laundry if I relied upon it solely. At the same time, it's much more satisfying that way. When I moved here in 2002, San Francisco was a different city. That wasn't long ago, but the way I learned the city then -- specifically food to seek out -- was through people I met at parties, book club, work, and pick-up basketball games. I read the newspaper food sections and hit up Yelp from time to time, but I also just talked to people and visited the restaurants they recommended -- places like El Zocolo and the now-defunct Lorca. Doing so made me a more social person. It made me attack the city so as to eat what I heard was worth eating. The secrets I've amassed that way have stuck with me the longest, probably because I have faces, stories, and voices to go with them. They are ones I share with others -- in conversation, whenever possible.

On one of the morning talk shows last week, a woman was discussing a New Years resolution to streamline her online life. She lamented how it’d taken over her "real life," and had calculated how many hours she wastes on twitter and facebook alone. I'm sure we've all felt similarly at one time or another, although maybe you're still guilty of whiling away an hour online on the office clock and spending more time catching up with your Google Reader than your significant other. So this week I thought I'd put together a post for you highlighting a few food MVP's--online sites (many of which are local) where each moment you spend drooling, ogling, and researching will be time well spent. I promise.

Eat

Food by mail. Certainly something people are warming up to, but there's still some hesitation. With thoughts of honey-baked ham and bad coffeecakes, not everyone's jumping on the wagon. But there are some great sites out there, hand-selecting unique, small-batch products that you can't find at your corner grocery store. From small sites stocking heirloom beans (love them), to big-box stores with overnight shipping--you can get pretty much whatever your recipe calls for online these days. But local rock-star site, Foodzie and innovative Marx stand out for their diverse products and way in which they foster community by supporting small artisan vendors, blogging about their experiences, and hosting contests and giveaways.

I can't say enough about Foodzie. First, they're based right here in San Francisco, they're supporting small businesses from all over the country, and every time I sign on I find something cool I'd never heard about. If you're not familiar with the concept, essentially they're an online space, allowing small-time (or bigger-time) vendors to set up a shop. Then buyers purchase directly from these passionate food producers and growers. I've found a few favorite new products like handmade peanut butter cups from the small baking company, a little bit of sweet, and Sunchowder's Emporia unique hand-crafted jams (wrapped in beautiful papers). Their blog has dining recommendations, interviews and recipes, and there's a great "Discover" map that highlights artisan foods made in and around the Bay Area.

Twitter: @foodzie

Before 2007, only high-end restaurateurs knew about Marx Foods as they were essentially a supplier of wholesale, boutique, high-end products. Today, their product line has expanded and is now available to home chefs who can search by categories or ingredients, season, organic/free range etc. Their mission is to find the finest and freshest products, stay on top of food trends, and connect the customer to the food source (by taking out the warehouse/middleman element). Their "Foodie FAQ" delves into such topics as the spiciness of ghost peppers and freezing live mussels. And they also have a blog where they feature contests and post relevant pieces like "How to Store Fresh Truffles" or great recipes (like this one for chile-coconut crusted shrimp).

Twitter: @marxfoods and check out their flickr stream

Read

I won't even touch on blogs or online food communities because we all have our favorites and really, that'd be an entirely different post. If you want to know what blogs I read and admire, here's my current link list. Moving away from blogs, there are a few sites that stand out in my mind for fresh local content and literary voice.

Life is good for Marcia Gagliardi these days. She's currently hitting up the food scene in India and has a book coming out this spring. While I rarely give out my email and subscribe to newsletters and the like, I look forward to every Tuesday afternoon when the "hopper" arrives in my in-box (online version available on her website). Marcia's voice is light-hearted and humorous. She's sometimes self-deprecating and never takes food too, too seriously. But she's definitely got the inside scoop on the San Francisco dining scene: restaurant closures, changes in ownership, great reviews, and upcoming events. Her rotating "Ten Places to Eat at Now" list contains a few of my very favorite spots, and she provides a great free service called "tip please" that allows you to enter a bit of information and receive a personalized restaurant recommendation (service temporarily on hold while Marcia travels). She's not paid by restaurants to write a review, she doesn't accept ads, and she doesn't believe in writing negative reviews. She's a genuine voice coming out of the San Francisco food scene.

Twitter: @tablehopper

With a tagline like: Read. Chew. Discuss, eGullet has got to be good. There are a few parts to the website. First, they have a popular forum, where folks post questions in topics ranging from the best canned tomato soups to where to get dinner in Morristown, New Jersey. But the reason I come to egullet is for The Daily Gullet, the literary journal of the eGullet Society. Here, food writers and editors post longer, more literary pieces such as "Why Jews Like Chinese Food" and "The Frying of Latke 49." They're not always recipe-driven like many food blog entries tend to be these days, and are always smartly written. In the online world of short snippets and photos, sometimes it's nice to curl up with the laptop and read an actual essay on food. You get that here.

Look

If you’re a food blogger or a fan of "food porn," you already know Tastespotting and Food Gawker well. If these sites are new to you, the idea is simple: anyone can submit a photo and, if you meet the fairly rigid criteria (focus, composition, exposure and lighting), your picture could be chosen and posted for all to see. For bloggers, it's a great way to drive site traffic because viewers can click on your photo and be routed over to your blog or website for the recipe. For everyone, it’s a fun way to spend a few minutes, seeing what people are cooking and posting, and getting visual inspiration for future forays into the kitchen. If you're looking for a particular recipe or dish, you can search by category, popularity, and date to weed through the tempting photos and find what you're after.

Twitter: @tastespotting, @foodgawker

I

I'll admit it. Some of the food blogs I admire and read the most are ones with exceptional photos--sure, people like to read about food, but people really like to look at food. And that, my friends, is where the genius of Foodspotting enters. Instead of reading restaurant reviews to determine where to find a spicy mole or an authentic macaron, you check out the pictures on your own and judge for yourself.

Foodspotting is a new site that's been getting quite a bit of buzz lately for it's relatively genius concept, user-generated content, and clean and use-to-use interface. It's a self-proclaimed "foodie-powered field guide." Essentially, the idea is that when it comes down to it, you don't always care what Michael Bauer said about your favorite restaurant and researching new spots can make eating a bit more scholarly than it needs to be. So not only do users post photos of their favorite dishes, but Foodspotting has built in an important social element to keep the site fresh, interesting--and even competitive. Here's the nitty gritty (in brief) on how it works. Check out their site if you'd like more detailed information.

• You see a picture and like it, you "Want" it. "Wants" are sightings you'd like to try.
• "Noms" are for foods you've tried and loved the best.
• Champions: people who have spotted food at more places than anyone else.
• Follow: a little like twitter, you can opt to follow places, dishes, and other Foodspotters you trust to stay in the know on the latest sightings.

I'm particularly excited about this site. It's social functionality makes sense--it's all geared towards helping you find dishes you want to try from all over, getting to know your local scene better, network with others who have similar food interests, and perhaps freshen up those camera skills. In terms of travel and restaurant recommendations, it's a new and entirely visual way to check out a city you're traveling to and discover what looks good there.

Twitter: @foodspotting

This past Friday, January 15th at 8 p.m., 7 x 7 magazine hosted what they're calling the Friday Flash Mob. They encouraged diners, chefs, wait staff, or anyone involved in a restaurant that evening to take a shot of what was going on. From the guys manning the line at Tacoliscious to Chris Cosentino enjoying a quiet moment, it's a look at the kitchens, chefs, and dishes that were happening at the same moment all over the city. I'm a sucker for this stuff. While it's obviously too late to submit a photo (unless you have one from Friday at 8 p.m.), the Flickr photo stream will be used to help build the magazine's popular February food issue.

Listen Live to Eating Out in the Bay Area on KQED 88.5FM Thu, Apr 9, 2009 -- 10:00 AM.

Listen to the audio archive of Eating Out in the Bay Area on KQED's Forum. (archive posts 4/9 late eve)


Eating Out in the Bay Area
The San Francisco Chronicle just released its annual list of the Bay Area's 100 Top Restaurants. We'll talk about the new list with restaurant critic Michael Bauer. We'll also talk with food writer Marcia Gagliardi and Zagat editor Meesha Halm about some of the area's better budget deals, and look at the relevancy of restaurant criticism in the era of blogs and Yelp.

Host: Michael Krasny

Guests:
Marcia Gagliardi, freelance food writer and author of the e-column "The Tablehopper."

Michael Bauer, executive food and wine editor and restaurant critic for The San Francisco Chronicle. Bauer writes SFGate's food blog: Between Meals.

Meesha Halm, local editor of the Zagat Bay Area Restaurant Guide