Steve Barnes & Drew Nieporent - The Moth

Summary

The Moth Podcast: Steve Barnes & Drew Nieporent Release Date: May 3, 2016
Host: The Moth

The Moth podcast episode titled "Steve Barnes & Drew Nieporent" features two compelling true stories from the world of food and restaurants. Delivered by Steve Barnes and Drew Nieporent, the episode delves into themes of personal adversity, professional challenges, and the intricate dynamics between restaurateurs and critics.

1. Steve Barnes: An Unexplained Attack in a Posh Parking Lot

Timestamp: 02:01 – 15:46

Steve Barnes, a restaurant writer based in Albany's Capital Region, recounts a harrowing experience where he was violently attacked in the parking lot of Creo, a high-end restaurant in Stuyvesant Plaza. What begins as a typical evening dinner outing with his friend Josh swiftly devolves into a traumatic encounter.

The Attack:

As Steve and Josh leave Creo, they notice two men approaching them quickly. Steve describes the aggressor as "bald and muscular" wearing fingerless gloves. Without warning, the man assaults him:

"His fist crashed into my temple. I turned to get away and he tripped me and shoved me, and I went face first into the pavement."
[Timestamp: 02:30]

Despite the brutality, the attacker remains silent, leaving Steve disoriented and in pain until Josh intervenes, managing to subdue the aggressor with a headlock. Bystanders' intervention causes the attacker to flee without explanation.

Investigations and Aftermath:

Local police struggled to find evidence, primarily due to inadequate camera coverage in the parking lot. Steve reflects on the ambiguity surrounding the motive behind the attack:

"There'd been no robbery attempt. The obvious intent had been to separate us. And since I'd gotten so much the worse of it, it looked like I'd been targeted."
[Timestamp: 07:15]

Speculations arose about the assault being a hate crime or retaliation for Steve's journalism, but concrete reasons remained elusive. Months later, a photo array led detectives to identify the attacker as a professional mixed martial arts (MMA) fighter. Despite media frenzy and public scrutiny, procedural errors by the assistant district attorney resulted in the fighter's acquittal.

Steve narrates his complex emotions during the legal proceedings:

"I was indignant. Middle aged? This was five years ago, so I was less middle aged then."
[Timestamp: 13:50]

The story culminates with the revelation that the restaurant owner, implicated by the DA, was concurrently facing unrelated legal issues, ultimately leading to his imprisonment for tax evasion. Steve concludes with a sense of vindication and a profound empathy for victims of unexplained crimes:

"I developed a tremendous sense of empathy for people of random or anonymous crimes who can never say I know why this happened to me."
[Timestamp: 14:30]

2. Drew Nieporent: Navigating the High-Stakes World of Food Criticism

Timestamp: 16:06 – 27:07

Drew Nieporent, an acclaimed restaurateur known for establishments like Tribeca Grill and Nobu, shares an anecdote that underscores the precarious relationship between restaurant owners and food critics.

The Challenge of Opening a Restaurant:

In the late 1970s, Drew aspired to open his own restaurant. He secured a lease for a 1,500 square-foot space in West Broadway, an area that was nascent in its culinary scene. Despite the excitement, Drew was wary of critical reviews, especially from influential critics like Brian Miller of the New York Times.

An Intentional Encounter:

Determined to impress the critic, Drew orchestrates a meticulous plan to observe Brian Miller dining at his upcoming restaurant, Montrachet. Donning a tuxedo and blending into the environment, Drew captures numerous photos of Miller, albeit without a clear shot of his face:

"I developed the film. 18 shots of his fucking back. I didn't have one shot of his face, honestly."
[Timestamp: 24:30]

The Critical Moment:

On the evening of the review, Drew notices that Brian Miller has reserved a table under the alias "Benson." Prepared to ensure a favorable experience, Drew and his team go the extra mile. However, a mishap occurs when a dish—rabbit salad—accidentally includes a chewed piece of kidney, leading to a frantic kitchen scramble.

"Out came a flying piece of fucking kidney that had been chewed and gnarled."
[Timestamp: 25:00]

Despite the blunder, Drew anxiously awaits the critic's assessment. The subsequent review is surprisingly positive, awarding Montrachet three stars and omitting any mention of the kidney incident. This validation is a pivotal moment for Drew, reinforcing the impact of critical acclaim on his venture.

Reflections on the Industry:

Drew emphasizes the significance of reviews in the restaurant industry, particularly the lifeline they can be for new establishments:

"Every person's life savings in the place... the food was good."
[Timestamp: 26:00]

He concludes by highlighting the unpredictable nature of critiques and the importance of perseverance and attention to detail in sustaining a successful restaurant.

Conclusion

This episode of The Moth intricately weaves two narratives from the food industry, showcasing the vulnerability and resilience of individuals navigating personal and professional crises. Steve Barnes's story is a raw portrayal of unexpected violence and the quest for truth and justice, while Drew Nieporent's tale highlights the delicate balance between culinary passion and the influential power of media criticism. Together, these stories offer listeners profound insights into the human experiences behind the restaurant world's facade.

Notable Quotes:

Steve Barnes:
- "I couldn't imagine for what."
  [07:45]
- "It was also a direct affront to the First Amendment."
  [14:10]
Drew Nieporent:
- "If you ever get the name Benson, just take good care of him."
  [26:30]
- "Every person's life savings in the place."
  [26:00]

This comprehensive summary provides an in-depth overview of the "Steve Barnes & Drew Nieporent" episode, capturing the essence of both storytellers' experiences and the broader themes they explore.

Transcript

Dan Kennedy (0:00)

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Dan Kennedy (1:40)

Welcome to the Moth Podcast. I'm Dan Kennedy, and today on our show, two Stories from the Food World. Our first story this week is from storyteller Steve Barnes, and the theme of the night was Lost and Found. And this is from a show that we did live up in Albany. Here's Steve.

Steve Barnes (2:01)

I write about restaurants here in the Capital Region, and one night I was with my friend Josh and we were leaving the restaurant Creo in Stuyvesant Plaza after having dinner. We were walking across the parking lot in Stuyvesant Plaza and I vaguely registered that there were a couple of men coming toward us. But it's a mall parking lot. You don't think anything of it? I did when it became clear they were walking toward us fast. One of them was bald and muscular and he was tightening a strap on the wrist of the fingerless gloves he was wearing. Without a word, his fist crashed into my temple. I turned to get away and he tripped me and shoved me and I Went face first into the pavement. Even in the middle of it, I remember thinking, he's done this before and I'm going to need new glasses. He came down on top of me, pounding the back of my head with his fists. He still hadn't said anything, and I was reduced to little more than stop and fuck you and ouch. I heard Josh shouting, and I felt him jump on top of the guy. The guy got Josh in a headlock, and then he paused, seemingly unsure of what he was supposed to do. By that time, some people in the parking lot had gathered and were shouting for him to stop. And he did. He stood up. He shook off Josh as if he were a blanket or a cat, and he just walked away, around the side of Creole, toward the corner of the big intersection behind the restaurant. Josh and I looked at one another. What the fuck had just happened? And we also thought, who the fuck gets beat up in the parking lot of Stuyvesant Plaza? I mean, Rotterdam Square, maybe. I could see that. But Stuyvesant Plaza is posh. It has stores like Circles Boutique and Joseph A Bank and Peaches Cafe. Josh told me the guy that came after him had just popped him a couple of times, seemingly as a distraction. And then he walked away, also without ever saying anything. Just walked around the side of Creo toward the corner of Western and Fuller. The cops found nothing that night. The only cameras at the time that were covering the parking lot were in bank ATMs, and they wouldn't have picked up anything from that distance. We learned as much from the geriatric security guard at Stuyvesant Plaza, who showed up eight minutes after. The Gilderland cops, they have the entire town to patrol. All 57.8 square miles. I googled it. And yet they got there way before he did. Josh and I told the cops we were pretty sure it was random, but. But they pointed out many details that suggested it wasn't. There'd been no robbery attempt. They'd said nothing. The obvious intent had been to separate us. And since I'd gotten so much the worse of it, it looked like I'd been targeted. I couldn't imagine for what. Later, some people would try to politicize it and say that it had been a hate crime. But if the guy is not saying, fuck you, faggot, while he's punching you in the face, or for that matter, fuck you, journalist, while he's punching you in the face, it's really hard to prove a hate crime. Others suggested it had to be in retaliation for Something I'd written, but I couldn't imagine what. I mean, I cover food and restaurants and the arts. People don't get attacked for that up here at least. My colleague Fred Lebrun, once in the 1970s, wrote a nasty restaurant review and got a dead fish fish sent to him in the mail. And as for me, an actor I'd once panned in a play came up to me at a bar and threw a drink in my face. But that was the extent of it. That night after the attack, I went home and wrote a long account for my table hopping blog. And I published it, complete with a picture of my bloody face. Because I. I was writing it and publishing it on my blog. It was my story to tell, I was in control. But then a colleague wrote a news story about it for the Times Union and it got published on the front page with that photo of my face under the headline Times Union Writer Beaten. I felt shamed. I'd been beaten. I was a victim. It only got worse when I got to work and my bosses, meaning very well, asked if I wanted the security guard to escort me to my car after work. Now they meant well, but inside I was seething because the security guard, very nice guy. The security guard was about 60 years old, all of 145 pounds. And sometimes he carried a flashlight. How pathetic was I if I needed him to keep me Safe on a 90 second walk across a lighted parking lot? But the truth was, and this really bothered me, the truth was that in those first few days I would have welcomed some company walking across that lot at night. I'd lost my sense of security. It was profoundly gone. And there were times when I was genuinely afraid because I didn't know what had happened. I couldn't know that it wouldn't happen again. And so there were moments where I was truly scared and feeling like that was so alien to me that I couldn't even really identify what it was. At first, months went by with no developments. And then one day, I remember it was December 24th. The detectives handling the case showed up with a photo array. Very clearly there was the guy that was the bald guy that had attacked me. Absolutely no question about it. The cops thanked me, didn't say anything more, and they left. A few hours later, a colleague of mine who covers crime came over to my desk. He'd apparently gotten a tip similar to the one that the cops got and he had me pull up a profile page on a website for professional mixed martial arts fighters. There he was, the same guy, absolutely no question about it. The name meant nothing to me, but it was the guy. I was flabbergasted. A professional MMA fighter had attacked me. I mean, me, come on. While I'm skilled at verbal combat, I mean, I'm really good at arguing and I love to do it, but physical violence I have almost no experience with. I mean, prior to the night of that attack, the last time I'd been hit in the face in anger was 28 years before in gym class in sixth grade. And so here's a tip for you. If you want to beat me up and you're going to use a surprise attack to do it, you don't need to be a professional mixed martial arts fighter to beat me up. It's just talk about being overqualified for a job. After the fighter was arrested, the press had a field day with it. I even made Gawker. That snarky Manhattan based news site Gawker, had previously picked up on a story I'd written about two Albany bar owners who hated one another so much they decided to take their differences out in the boxing ring. Gawker connected that earlier story to the story of the fighter attacking me and said, the Albany food world is all about punching people in the face. The MMA press covered the story as well. They criticized the fighter for making the profession look bad. And they also noted that his nickname in the ring was the punching bag and that he had a record of three wins and 30 losses. Well, I guess that would be four wins and 30 losses. They said the punching bag finally found somebody he could beat up. An out of shape, middle aged food critic. I was indignant. Middle aged? This was five years ago, so I was less middle aged then. The fighter's brother was identified as the other attacker and he was arrested because the woman in his life was pregnant and he wanted to put the whole thing behind him as quickly as he could. He took a plea deal to a lesser charge and was sentenced to community service. But the assistant district attorney handling the case against the fighter screwed up the paperwork so badly, the judge threw out the case against him. He could never be prosecuted for attacking me. Embarrassed, the district attorney changed tactics. He appointed a senior ada, someone who normally prosecuted murders, to try to develop a case against a restaurant owner whom they believed had hired the MMA fighter to attack me. Now, this had been rumored all along, and in fact, the day after the attack, the chef at the owner's restaurant had called me and she, crying, sobbing, apologizing, said she'd heard him threaten me, but she figured he'd never do anything about it. She was so sure he was responsible that she quit her job. I mean, I knew the guy, and he was clearly scum, but he'd always been civil to me, so it seemed preposterous that he would actually do this. But embarrassed by their screw up, the DA went after him. And they investigated. They empanelled a grand jury, and they got an indictment. An indictment for a misdemeanor assault case. I get the unfairness here. Every week in the Capital Region, people are assaulted far worse than I was. And some of their cases lapse or fall apart completely. I know I talked to some of them. They emailed me, and they called me. They said, get the DA to pay attention to us again. But because my case was prominent and because they'd screwed it up so badly, they were determined to get that indictment. And they did. Two years after the attack, the restaurant owner went on trial for criminal conspiracy. It turned out he was pissed off about something I'd written, but it wasn't a review. I'd always been completely complimentary about his restaurant's food. Now he was mad about a completely accurate short news item about the fact that his restaurant had closed temporarily for just a couple of days because he'd forgotten to renew the liquor license. He was embarrassed, but when I and he told the staff that it was because of a water main break. But when I published the truth, he thought I'd humiliated him in front of his employees. And witnesses described him as sitting in meetings saying things like, we know where Barnes lives, right? And punching his fist into the palm of his other hand. Now, this is pathetic stuff, even for a wannabe kingpin in Albany. But it was also a direct affront to the First Amendment. I had told the truth and gotten punched in the face for it by a hired goon. I felt vindicated. You know, I was no longer a victim. They had tons of evidence against the restaurant owner, but all of it was circumstantial. And so the jury acquitted him. Jurors emailed me afterwards, called me. They said it was clear the guy was an asshole. We have no doubt he did it. But the way they were charged to consider the case, they had to acquit, and they did. I understand and respect that. And I knew that it was important that at least I knew why it had happened, because I developed a tremendous sense of empathy for people of random or anonymous crimes who can never say I know why this happened to me. Last summer, about three years after the trial, I was driving home very late one night and had to slow down for highway construction. And there wearing a hard hat and waving a little safety flag was the former restaurant owner. A guy who'd been this high living entrepreneur. A guy who had dated 20 year old women and driven fancy sports cars. A guy who had bragged to me about snorting cocaine off the ass of a 20 year old woman while driving a fancy sports car. There he was waving a safety flag around highway construction at 2:30am on a weekend. It had turned out that weeks after he'd been acquitted in my trial, he'd been convicted of tax evasion by a federal jury and sent to prison. The last I heard, he lives with his mother. Thank you.