Nobody loves an extended metaphor like Pete Wells. Pete Wells loves extended metaphor like Guy Fieri loves coming up with dishes based on catchphrases. And so when Pete’s review of Bobby Flay’s first restaurant opening in almost a decade turned out to be a rave from root to tip, Pete appointed him gun-slinging sheriff of the Wild West.
Writes Wells of Gato in his two-star review:
To audiences who don’t remember how skillfully he conjured up bursts of sunlight in Mesa Grill’s prime, Mr. Flay was in danger of becoming another Old West sharpshooter who’d joined up with Buffalo Bill Cody to delight big-top crowds by blasting holes in playing cards. With Gato, he’s a grizzled sheriff pinning on his badge again and returning to the precincts where he first laid down the law. He’s out to prove he’s more than just a big hat.
But the frontier is a-changin’. The townspeople expect all kinds of newfangled foolishness. If they aren’t amazed by every bite, they’ll yelp like coyotes. Worse, they can’t live without small plates. Fine, Bobby Flay can do small plates. He can crush small plates with one hand. His bar snacks, three porcelain bowls lined up on a slate for $17, are compact flavor bombs that detonate quickly and leave a vivid afterimage.
You guys, what would happen if Bobby Flay and Chuck Norris faced off in Kitchen Stadium?
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