It's summertime, which means lots of folks, chefs and other business owners included, are taking well-deserved time off.

I recently saw a blog post on how to keep your social media engagement "alive" while you're on vacation, by using tools such as TweetDeck to schedule posts to appear on Twitter and the like while you're away.

I disagree with this strategy, and here's why: Social media works best when you let your personality and humanity shine through. After all, these newfangled sites are simply new ways for you to talk to people. Would you pre-record a phone or video message so you could "participate" in a conference call or meeting while out of town? Of course not. For one thing, you wouldn't actually be there to take part in the ensuing back-and-forth that defines a true conversation. For another -- it's just weird. Robotic.

I think the human thing to do is what I did over Fourth of July weekend, which was to post a short note on this blog that I'd be taking a break for a specified amount of time.  Actually, this post is to say that I am leaving on a proper summer vacation.

But, I am always open to other ideas, so do share if you disagree (if you agree, share twice!).  I'll read all the posts when I get back on August 17.

In yesterday’s post, I sang the praises of Julia Child, the queen of food TV who did much for America’s pallid palette (and who unfortunately is no longer with us to do more, because we need it).

As people anticipate and talk about the movie “Julie and Julia,” much is being made of Child’s reaction to the movie’s other namesake, Julie Powell, who blogged about her experiences attempting to cook in one year the 500-plus recipes in Child’s Mastering the Art of French Cooking. Granted, Child is not here to explain herself. But according to her longtime book editor Judith Jones, Child thought of Powell’s blog as “a stunt”; of Powell, Child said, “I don’t think she’s a serious cook.”

Now, I'm all for authenticity, but I think Child fell into the all-too-common trap of pegging someone as inauthentic when, really, she was blazing a new trail. Powell was using a newish medium to try to do something interesting with her life, in spite of her cramped Queens apartment and mind-numbing job. (Full disclosure: Perhaps I am a bit protective of Powell, because before I was a professional cook, I, too, went through Child’s “Mastering.” But I failed more than Powell, couldn’t get my hands on some of the products I needed, and didn’t have the determination or iron stomach to keep at it.)

Anyway, I think Powell had a story to tell, and a message to share with her readers. And I give her credit for ignoring the haterz, who, dare I say, may have included Child herself.
 
As for Child: She was a blessing, an awesome talent, a mentor to many young chefs; but as it turns out, she was also a bit of an elitist about this newfangled thing called a blog. That said, I’m going to give her a pass because it was 2003, a time when many people didn’t get blogging because it wasn't mainstream; plus, she’s Julia Child.

But if you’re still one of the haterz in 2009, you don’t get a pass, at least not from me. It’s time to stop demeaning bloggers because “they’re not journalists” or because “anyone can blog” or because in reality "you don’t get it.” If a blog can become a book and then a movie, it really doesn’t matter if some blogs suck or if you don’t get it or if blogs don’t take the same approach as the inverted pyramid. Powell is living proof that this blogging thing can change your life, reason enough for me to keep trying.

Food enthusiasts across America are flocking to see “Julie and Julia,” the new movie that tells the stories of the rise of the beloved matron of food TV and the blogger whose journey of self-discovery led her to cook all of Child’s dishes in a single year.

I haven’t seen the movie yet, but like millions of others of food lovers, from at-home cooks to professional chefs, I love Julia Child. At an age when many people settle into a life of mediocrity, and after a daring turn with a World War II-era spy agency, the six-foot-tall woman with a sing-song voice went on to become a food author, TV star and breast cancer survivor. These are all good reasons to love her. But my favorite part of Julia’s personality is that she was a willing mentor to so many young up-and-coming chefs.

This business needs more mentors. I’ve seen a lot of things in my years in the industry – first as a line cook, now as a publicist – and the saddest thing of all is when a rising young chef earning mountains of praise and reviews (that veterans would give their knife sets for) spin out of control. A toxic combination of ego, inexperience, and, often, drugs, is usually the culprit.

It’s easy to write these kids off as inevitable burnouts, destined for short stints in the spotlight. But I think it’s more complicated than that. See, when you’re up, that green-eyed horde suddenly appears, ready to feast on your indiscretions. They crave your ruin. And lest you think I’m being melodramatic, I witnessed this firsthand when I worked for Michael Jordan’s restaurant during his basketball glory days. First, people would ask me if he was nice; then they’d want the gossip (there was none, except he likes his margaritas blue).

The restaurant lifestyle is tough enough: long shifts, odd hours, no holidays, tough competition. Add the stress of living up to mounting expectations at the ripe old age of 24, and it can be enough to crack even the most well-adjusted young person. Julia took a genuine interest in many up-and-coming chefs, and many considered her a mentor. If more seasoned chefs made like Julia, and took as keen an interest in helping newbies manage their emotions as well as their culinary skills, the industry would be better for it.

Sometimes, I think the truth hurts but needs to be said, in all its glory.  Or maybe I should say "all its gory." To wit, this email from an actual journalist:

"Maybe someday you could do a post on how annoying it is for journalists to have to hunt down basic info that PR people either bury or omit -- like the GOD DAMN PHONE NUMBER OF THE ACTUAL RESTAURANT [instead of the PR firm just listing their own phone], their WEBSITE, their ZIP CODE [unnamed restaurant opening release listed here, deleted to spare the culprits] ...

I mean really, who is it about? It’s epidemic, and always has been. Even if the PR firm wants to be primary contact in order to take credit, we still need to REPORT THE BASICS ON THEIR CLIENT and shouldn’t have to HUNT THEM DOWN.

Recently I had an exhaustive email exchange with a 'PR person' in an effort to get the actual opening date of their client’s restaurant -- a four or five email exchange for which I NEVER GOT AN ANSWER and they MISSED MY DEADLINE."     

SIGNED,
HAD IT UP TO HERE WITH THE LAZY AND/OR SELF-SERVING BULLSHIT

I started this occasional series in hopes of putting the kibosh on misguided press release practices, which unfortunately have given press releases a bad name.

Lest you think I’m 100 percent opposed to press releases, allow me to take this paragraph to explain that sometimes they make sense. For instance, if you’re having an event or running a contest, and your goal is to get as many people as possible to attend said event or enter said contest, blast a release to every calendar editor, TV and radio producer, and blogger within 60 miles (provided they cover food, or whatever issue you're publicizing, of course!). Tell your Facebook fan page, tweet about it, tell the world!

But, if you have a story to tell -- a real story with a beginning, middle and end, and details, and conflict and resolution, such as your unique beginnings in the food world as the chef in the kitchen of a Buddhist monastery -- please, I’m begging you, don’t do the knee-jerk thing and blast it out in a release! 

Instead, think about where you’d like to read this story, whose audience your story would resonate with, or what writer would make the story sing. Then, send it to that one person, and court him or her. If that person takes a pass, ask why. Maybe it’s because they just interviewed you for a different story, or because they just did a story on monastic menus. If that’s the case, thank them for their interest, and try your second choice.

See, as soon as you blast a gem of a story out to a big list of reporters, you’ve essentially turned it into garbage with the click of a button. Writers can’t and don’t want to do the same story as everyone else! They want a story that’s special, something they “unearth.” But be sure to have just one shovel, passing it around from reporter to reporter until someone wants to start digging.

I picked this up from Legends of Aerocles blog, please read it.  There's a point here.

Clients don’t always realize what information or goings-on can be spun into a great story and earn them great publicity. Routine calls should be the bare minimum of your interaction; daily contact with your point person, via phone or email, just to check in – crucial. Seeing your clients face-to-face, being in their office, watching them work, observing, and witnessing firsthand what they’re doing can be an amazing inspiration when it comes to identifying fresh ideas for long-term clientèle. So visit often. A Monthly Brainstorm can be great, but it’s tough to force inspiration. Close contact means continuously bouncing ideas off of one another, developing concepts, slowly but methodically…

No chef wants me standing beside him on the line in my cute little sundress  while he wields a knife. But one thing I have noticed is just how much info can be gleaned from chefs who post on Twitter and FB. 

The more you post, the more I know. The more I know, the more I promote.  The more I promote, the more journalists write about you. The more journalists write about you, the more people know about you. The more people know about you, the more people eat in your restaurant. The more people eat in your restaurant, the more money you make.

See, Twitter makes you rich.

I've got a beef with press releases. Simply stating my disregard probably will stir up a certain amount of controversy because releases remain a go-to in the industry. I welcome the controversy if it will help put an end to poor industry practices and make my clients less likely to ask for pointless releases in the future.

So this post kicks off an occasional series that will explain my beef and attempt to stop the insanity.

Reason #1 Why Press Releases Aren't Always the Answer:
Too often, a release is nothing more than heaping piles of fluff 'n' stuff (to put it nicely) covering for a lack of real news. If there is real news, a simple e-mail to the right reporter with the raw information -- rather than a front-and-back, droning, produced piece with a headline no editor would ever use and "approved" quotes no reporter worth her salt would ever run -- would be enough to get press.

The reason many restaurants pass on this direct approach in favor of blasting a release is that the raw information that would comprise a real news story so often isn't available. So publicists conjure up tomfoolery about their client's "innovative new food concept" or what have you.

The bottom line: Reporters want information they can turn into a story. Give them that, and they will love you.

They also want stories no one else is doing. So in my next post on press releases, I'm going to talk about what's blast-worthy and what's better left to one-on-one outreach. Don't ignore it just because I told you the punchline.

The other night I witnessed one of those classic kid meltdowns that got me thinking about -- what else -- restaurant PR.

Two little girls were at the neighborhood ice cream shop with their parents when the younger one suddenly realized she did not have the exact same ice cream cone as her big sister. Though she had her own ice cream cone -- and presumably picked out the sugar cone and Blue Moon ice cream -- suddenly, what she really, really wanted more than anything else in the world was something she couldn’t have.

Let me tell you, she was not pleased to be dealt this injustice. And she let her parents -- and by proxy, the rest of us -- know it.

Not to draw comparisons between tantrum-throwing toddlers and chefs, but this little scene reminded me of some chefs who only seem to care about their press when they are left out of an article that featured their peers.

They don’t seem to care much when their publicist calls to tell them a reporter would like to interview them for a story … or when their publicist calls again to ask them nicely to please return the call of said reporter who left them a message two days ago and still hasn’t heard back … or when their publicist fires off in rapid succession an increasingly threatening series of e-mails, texts, voicemails and Facebook messages reminding them that the badgering is in their best interest.

But as soon as these same chefs get word of an article that mentions their competitors, suddenly they have all the time in the world.  They have time for phone calls to ream their publicist for missing an opportunity, time for meetings to discuss how this isn't going to happen moving forward, time to go back through their email log to see if the publicist had known about the story and passed along the opportunity.

Chefs, I propose chewing on this food for thought: The time to care about the press you aren’t in is the moment your publicist calls to tell you about the next opportunity. Since you won't know you care about not being in the story when the story is due, if you just answer your publicists’ requests in a timely manner, you can be sure you'll never be upset by this again.

On the one hand, most chefs place extreme value on good press -- so much value, in fact, that many of them spend tens of thousands of dollars a year on PR firms to brand them, spin them, and make them media darlings.

But then there’s that double standard: When the “wrong” writer calls. Of course, this wrongness is determined by chefs’ own personal assessments, not their publicist, to whom they are paying said thousands in order to receive a professional opinion on said matters. 

Often, this is the case when the writer who calls is a blogger.

Nevermind that some chefs blog themselves. 

Nevermind that a search of “food” on Technorati, a compendium of blogs, yields 604,854 results, and “restaurants” yields 160,699.

Nevermind that many longstanding food magazines and newspapers are now writing their own blogs, so popular and accepted has blogging become.

Nevermind that food blogs and blogs in general tend to have rabidly loyal readers who actually check out the restaurants their favorite writers recommend, and who then add their own experiences to the searchable, expansive Interwebz, embossing the name of the restaurant many times over on the permanent record that is Google.

And nevermind that Big Important Journalists read the work of smaller, work-a-day writers and bloggers. (Where the heck do you think they get all of their news?)

This double standard is maddening, baseless, wrongheaded, counter-productive, and …

Well, nevermind me. I’m just a restaurant PR veteran with a blog.

I ask this question fully realizing that you may not be able to muster an objective perspective about your own PR. I get that. Sometimes we all get a little too close to our businesses for our own good, which is one of the reasons many chefs and restaurateurs are willing to shell out beaucoup bucks for a publicist who can serve as the barrier between misguided ideas and the rest of the world.

Unfortunately, many publicists aren’t willing to play that gatekeeper role because they’re too afraid of offending their client. And some have their own ideas that, well, seemed so good at the time …

For instance, I came across a staggeringly bizarre press release a few weeks ago. That's right, the release made it into my inbox, even though I am not a journalist, which happens to releases gone wrong -- everyone makes fun of them. Why did this release become the butt of many jokes? I'll just say that the pitch hinged on the premise that the fast food industry's supersized meat sandwiches trend is driven by misogynistic marketers and society's collective infatuation with the phallus.

The thing about it is, one will never know if it was the client who demanded the release or the desperate PR firm that dreamed it up. (I say desperate because I don't want to assume the alternative, which is that they had other news, but chose to run with this instead.)
 
To my mind, though, it doesn't matter whether this idea originated with the publicist or one of these companies' marketing departments. Any PR pro worth her paycheck would have put the kibosh on this idea immediately.

See, clients ask for a lot of wack-a-doo things. There's one guy around town who demands that crabcake be printed as one word, Food Lover's Companion be damned. And, I guess, what's a gal to do if the client threatens to fire and the mortgage is due?
 
Stick to your guns, I say. Find a way around it, I implore.

And, chefs, listen to the person to whom you pay scads and scads of cash when they tell you something ain't gonna work. Their outsider perspective and frank assessment is one of the reasons you hired that publicist. Are they always right? No, no one is. But if, more often than not, you don't believe them, I have to ask, why the hell are you paying them?

I recently declared that commenting on blogs is my new "must-do" for chefs who care about managing their brands. It wouldn't be fair of me to lay this smackdown without offerings some tips, now would it?

So here we go:

DOS
1.  DO correct misinformation, as in incorrect facts, about your restaurant as soon as you become aware of them.

2.  DO be respectful. You never know who might stumble upon your comments. Heck, your grandmother might read your post!

3.  DO be yourself. Let your personality show through your writing (within reason, now; if you're naturally a big jerkface, check yourself, and if you're a bore, jazz it up a bit, okay?).

DON'TS
1. DON'T respond only to blogs that mention you. It's the Interwebz equivalent of being That Guy at the party, you know, the one who can't talk stopping about himself.

2. DON'T feel the need to comment on everything. Sometimes on the web, as in real life, people just aren't worth it. Most social media geniuses agree it's generally useless and potentially damaging to respond to the following types of posts:
• Spam and off-topic comments
• Defamatory remarks
• Rants
• Comments from Haterz who make a habit of bashing others online

3.  DON'T be defensive. There will be times when people disagree with your comments, and you don't always have to have the last word.

Here's the Golden Rule of commenting, your W.W.E.D. moment, if you will:
Ask yourself, does my comment add to a reasonable conversation? If it is determined that the post is worth responding to, the challenge is to craft a post that truly will add to the conversation. "Right on, dude!" or "Your blog sucks" certainly do state opinions, but neither comment enriches the discussion. What new information can you add or new perspective can you bring? Add it, with links when appropriate (preferably back to your blog, Facebook page or web site. Get it?).

There are a lot of happy restaurant PR clients out there. I am sure of it. Mostly because I don't hear from them. 

But there are a number of restaurant PR clients that aren't. I know because I do hear from them.

When I meet with these unhappy people, I do try and set one record straight:  Your publicist isn't bad at her job. She is likely doing a great job. The problem is, she has crappy tools. She is stuck, in kitchen analogy, cutting a ripe tomato with a butter knife. And since the chef has her in missle lock, she is taking her time, considering her options, trying this out and then that, sweating, calling her girlfriend to kvetch about her job, knowing she could do better, if only.

The problem is, restaurant PR is a broken business model. Always has been, always will be. We just didn't have any options before on how to make it better. We worked with what we had, like surgeons in the middle ages, trying desperately to keep the patient alive with some leeches, a sprinkling of a murky-smelling herb, and a lot of hope.

Back in the day, I used to sit in my parents' basement and stuff envelope after envelope to distribute releases. Seriously, I bought them in lots of 10,000. Insane and expensive, but there was no other way. I can remember, then, my joy when faxes became commonplace. Then email.

Now, we live in a world of websites, twitter, text, Facebook.  We live in a world of à la minute video-feed shot, cut and distributed from a cell phone, for the love of God.

And yet, there are still those publicists who buy envelopes in large lots, write arduous and convoluted releases no journalist can possibly read (while trying desperately to keep their job), dump the releases in the post and hope.

I don't hate publicists, I hate that they cling mightily to outdated tools they are still demanding they should use.

I’m no Lady Gaga when it comes to fashion. I’d describe my style as Target and my shopping philosophy as “comfort-first.” So I’m feeling a little funny doling out this next piece of advice, but here goes:

For Pete’s sake, if you’re going to be on camera for an interview, commercial or anything else, spring for the right clothes.

What’s “right” for TV?

First, look professional. If I need to describe what I mean by that in greater detail, we probably have other issues to discuss.

• Solid colors are best, but to avoid looking washed out or harsh, stay away from the extremes, such as white, chef coats excepted, and black. Fluorescent was very popular in 1991, but even then it didn’t work well for TV; just ask MC Hammer. Pastels, such as powder blue, lavender and pink, tend to look best.

• Busy patterns are distracting at best, and sometimes can appear to undulate or move on screen. Flashy jewelry is another no-no. You want the attention on you, not your clothes.

• If you’re going to be shot from the waist up – for instance, if you’ll be sitting behind a desk – it’s okay to wear your retro day-glo hi-tops or, say, Crocs. If not, pay as much attention to your bottom half as your top half.

You may not even have to buy anything new before you go on camera if you follow these tips. That said, if your closet is full of Jimmy Buffet concert T-shirts, or Goth-y-punk-rock-inspired fashions, and you’re scheduled for a TV interview soon, get thee to the department store and stash one or two TV-friendly outfits in your closet to avoid the Nixon effect and freaking out your publicist.

Really?

I’ve heard plenty of hollow excuses for why work doesn’t get done, but my least favorite is “I don’t have time.”

If President Obama has time to exercise each morning in between dealing with the economy, honoring date night with Michelle, and visiting foreign countries, you have time to send a 140-character tweet twice a day.

Think about it: Justin Timberlake tweets, and he’s been incredibly busy bringing sexy back and being a mother lover. I bet he even calls back journalists in a timely manner (i.e., before their deadline).

And while I'm at it, Blog commenting is about to become my new "must-do" for chefs. If Kate Gosselin of “John and Kate Plus 8,” a mother of eight-year-old twins and five-year-old sextuplets, has time to go for a monthly spa treatment, you have time to comment on a few local food blogs to build your following.

It’s not that any of us has more or less time than the next person. Last I checked, there are 24 hours in the day, no matter who you are or what you do. It’s about priorities, and I would argue that if you’re running a business (even if that business is just you, the chef), building your brand should be at the top of your list.

Journalists are used to asking questions all day long. It’s what they do. They ask question after question until they get the specific answer they need or want to satisfy their editor and flesh out their story.

Here’s journalists’ dirty little secret: There are some stories, listings and round-ups, for which they’d prefer not to have to ask so many damn questions. A journalist’s Nirvana is piecing this kind of ready-made "story" together; its really great filler more than reporting, so they don't want to spend a lot of time on it.

Of course, round-ups and calendar listings occasionally seem the mainstays of restaurant press. When reporters are featuring 10 restaurants’ weekend specials for a half-page wrap-up, they don’t have time to play private eye. They are naturally going to feature the restaurants that give them the details they need to make readers salivate.

Here’s an example of what doesn’t cut it:

“XYZ Restaurant is hosting a farm-to-table dinner on Friday featuring locally sourced ingredients and beer pairings.”

If I’m a reporter, about 17 questions spring to mind, including the following: How many courses? What time? Are there seatings or is it a special menu offered all evening? What’s the appetizer? Entree? Dessert? What local farms are involved? Are the beers locally brewed? Will the brewer be on hand? Is this farm-to-table dinner going to become a regular thing? How much does it cost, and is the beer included or extra?

By this point, the reporter is exhausted just thinking about all the information she needs to write a 75-word blurb on your event. Meanwhile, seven other press releases have pinged her in-box, with richer details that don’t require sleuthing.

The bottom line: Unless you don’t want press, don’t make reporters investigate your event like it’s Watergate.

We've all been there: on a crowded train or bus, in a business meeting, or at a nice restaurant, when someone's phone rings.

Maybe it doesn't go, "brrring-brrring!" Thanks to the miracles of modern technology, maybe it does something even more obnoxious, like spout lines from Southpark. Or maybe the phone itself is on silent, but the person answering has a severe case of cell yell.

My point is that the phone call, inevitably, intrinsically, is an intrusion.

Now, consider the e-mail. Compared to the loud and insistent phone, the e-mail is silent and accommodating. It doesn't demand to be answered now, now, NOW! It waits patiently in the queue until you, dear recipient, are ready for it.

That's why it confounds me that a lot of chefs I know don't like e-mail. It's too "tech-y" for some; the in-box overwhelms others.

What they don't understand is that people e-mail, rather than call them, to be respectful of their time. E-mail says, "I want to communicate with you on your schedule, not mine. Answer me when you have time and can concentrate, not when I say so."

No brrring-brrring! No Southpark. No cell yell. Just the soft tippity-tap of the keyboard.

So next time someone sends you an e-mail, consider that they could be barging into your day with an annoying phone call. Instead of ignoring their e-mail, try filing it into the "answer soon" in-box folder and do just that.

If you haven't checked out the Chef Registry, you should. The site allows reporters to post their story ideas and source needs free of charge to a captive audience of chefs who are registered on the site so they can get in on this happenin' media action. Every week, Chef Registry posts awesome stories-in-progress from the likes of Food + Wine, Chicago Tribune, and The New York Times.

I called it Chef Registry because I didn't -- and I don't -- want publicists to sign up on behalf of their clients. The reporters don't want to speak to publicists, after all; they want chefs. So we just let chefs, mixologists, and sommeliers register.  If I'm going to provide a service, I'm going to give the people what they want.

Of course, I'm human and, on occasion, a publicist or two slips past the velvet rope. I'm learning a thing or two from these odd experiences, though. Recently, a reporter posted a fabulous story idea to the registry, one that happens to apply to any restaurant that serves a family meal to staff prior to service.

Not one of the publicists sneakily registered on the site responded. I found that very curious, given that their raison d'etre is to get their clients press. I'll not speculate why, but maybe you should.

I recently took a long and arduous journey to visit a chef in the far reaches of the exurbs. Okay, so he's at the western edge of Cook County. Still, as weekday excursions go, this was a doozy for me, fraught with bumper-to-bumper traffic, look-alike exits, and daytime radio.

By the time I got there, I felt like I deserved a spa day. Instead, Chef and I had one of those conversations that I later recount to my poor mother with equal parts incredulity and frustration.

You see, this chef had it in his head that in order to increase sales, he'd have to attract Chicago's young, hip, food-loving scene to trek out to his restaurant for regular visits.

To my mind, there are three flaws with this logic:

1. First and foremost, why not make sure existing customers come back more often? Chef told me he runs a "special occasion" place, where people come once a year for their birthday or anniversary. Okay, I said, let's start there. Imagine if you got them to come in not just on their birthday, but also on their anniversary, Mother's Day, and New Year's Eve. You've just tripled the butts in your seats without even having to convince someone new to walk in the door.

2. Chicago's young, hip, food-loving scenesters are fickle. Even if they do make it out to the 'burbs on occasion to hit up a hot new restaurant, they won't become regulars. Which brings me to my third point ...

3. Did I mention how far this place is from the perspective of a city-dweller? I had the feeling when I got in the car to set out for this place that I should bring a snack and a canteen (ironic, as I was going to a restaurant).

My point is this: Think carefully about how you're spending your precious marketing dollars. It's not just about getting butts in the seats. It's about getting the right butts.

This holiday weekend was gorgeous in the City That Works, and I was out and about with millions of my fellow Chicagoans taking a break from the work-a-day grind. Saturday morning dawned and people were jogging, bike-riding, gardening, shopping at their neighborhood farmer's markets, and heading down to the Taste of Chicago.

I don’t think many people were holed up in front of their television sets, blinds drawn, glued to Saturday morning TV — not even for the cartoons.

Yet, I know some restaurant publicists who would have — have had — no qualms about rousing their clients, sleepy from Friday night’s service with Saturday’s still looming large, to make a three-minute appearance on one of those Saturday morning news programs. And I know plenty of chefs who want to, because they have been told to believe it will make a difference for them.

The blasted wake-up call wouldn’t be the only intrusion. Chef would need to prep a dish, practice it to ensure he could get it done within the time allotted and with a generous side dish of witty, distracting banter, thank you very much, all without accidentally chopping off the tip of his index finger.

Why? Why, why, why?! WHY?!!!!!!

If I and millions of other Chicagoans can think of a hundred other things we’d rather be doing on a Saturday morning than watch chefs doing quickie demos, why would a publicist line it up for her Chef? Is that really what’s going to bring in new customers to a restaurant? Assuming a few people are tuning in, are they even paying attention to the show, or are they using it as background noise while they brew coffee, clean out the litter box, and otherwise go about their Saturday morning routine?

Here’s what I’d rather see: I’d rather see that publicist ask Chef to wake up on Saturday morning an hour before he usually does, brew himself a nice cup of coffee like the rest of the civilized world, and comment on five food blogs that have mentioned his restaurant in the past few weeks. I’d rather see him begin to engage the food lovers, and more specifically the people who’ve already shown interest in visiting his restaurant, than to cast a wide net hoping to drag in a few good fish and not just some water-logged boots.

I’d rather see that publicist let Chef get some damned sleep so he can shine at service on Saturday night — and leave the Saturday morning TV to the kids.

We're on break until Monday.  Have a save and happy July 4th.