The other night, I was at a media dinner for 50 writers. It was fascinating, sitting waiting for them all to file in, considering I was in a Twitter conversation with a few people who feel food writers who take comps should be outed, flogged and otherwise meant to wear a dunce cap in the corner.

Despite whatever random diners who read this blog may think, anyone in the business of chefdom, PRdom or mediadom either knows all about these media dinners or needs to grab Toto and take a good look around. This ain't Kansas (though I have it on good authority that it happens there, too).

The Media Dinner, like the FAM trip, is a semi-working system. Back in the day, it actually would make a good difference to hold media dinners. Word got out slow, so getting everyone in to see what was going on was a good way to make sure the word-getting-outness speeded up a bit.

Today, everyone is rushing around so frantically to Get. The. Story. that I pretty much think if the word doesn't get out on its own, well, it is because the restaurant is boring or otherwise "off" and in general needs to be fixed.

Another thing has happened as well. Lots of publications that used to be kinda lax on their taking comps policy have become crazily militant — and the journalists still working at the pubs are right to fear for their life before accepting a unpaidfor roll in the bread basket.

So, what happened was, media dinners became these odd affairs where freelance writers who didn't really write all that much ended up coming to the dinners and nothing would really come of it, after all.

So, it had been a while since I had been to one of these things and seriously, I was super curious to find out the current state of affairs.

The restaurants that held the dinners, in The Elysian, did everything right.  They actually redefined everything right, I happened to notice, when they handed me a cloth cocktail napkin.

In fact, they did such a great gosh darn job that I wanted to write about it. In fact, they did such a great gosh darn job that all I could think was: Why the hell has it become so incredibly difficult for so many others in the hospitality business to be hospitable?

What I found so brilliant about the dinner is that they understood that inviting in bloggers with niche followings, the ability to write large posts, and the freedom to write what they want can be a most effective tool in communicating a concept.

At The Elysian, to my mind, the concept is to built the most beautiful place on earth and then be the most humble, gracious people alive. Accept everyone into your well-appointed world and make them feel they belong there.

In an economy where it seems even rich people are still alittle afraid of being poor, The Elysian made everyone feel safe, welcome and well-tended — rich or poor, well-dressed or, in my case, maybe coulda cleaned up a bit more. 

So, as a hotel like that opens, how, really, can one communiate that kind of message? I live in the world of fine dining and let me tell you, everyone and their brother tells me their fine dining restaurant is going to be welcoming to all. They are, really mostly, not.

Because the minute I order a filet of Dover sole for lunch and the server looks back up at cheap ol' me and says, "and what would you like for your appetizer?" Your restaurant is no longer welcoming.

How can you communicate that message without bringing people in to tell the story for you?  People who can tell the story without the burden of editorial focus and writing to an audience?  Brilliant.

They didn't ask anyone to write anything.  They didn't let on any expectation.  They didn't try and control the message by telling anyone what to write. 

What they did was have fun themselves: The chef trotting out his pizzas himself, a smile as big as the Canada sky stretched across his face. Another chef walking through the room with a pan full of sausages, smiling and posing for pictures because he clearly knew he held a big pile of love in that pan.  Valets who refused tips. Bartenders who eagerly offered fun drinks and explained their contents with a bit of a golly gee excitement instead of a droll eye-rolling "everyone knows what I mean when I say it is a riff on a Dark 'n Stormy."

And that, my friends, is the media dinner done right.  And no, you don't have to have more money than God to pull it off because these people weren't peddling the grand appointments, they were peddling hospitality.

Look, it even worked it's magic on me!