Saturday, January 24, 2009

Getting to Schwa

After reading yet another superlative-filled article about Michael Carlson's revolutionary food, I've decided to suck it up and try to get a reservation at his restaurant, Schwa. (The most recent ode to his chops is a six-page interview in GQ.) Why am I telling you this? He runs the tiny 26-seat place in my neighborhood like a pirate ship. No wait staff, no reservations system, all BYO. To get in you call.... and call, and call. He's the only one who ever answers the phone, and that's only when he's feeling like it. He's basically a brilliantly talented guy with an eccentric and unstable past, so my career in the art world has prepared me well for the task.

I'll keep you posted.


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