Star-struck diners are prepared to lie, cheat or bribe their way to a table in one of the hottest restaurants in New York, the most competitive food capital in the world. Jeffrey Toobin, author of a bestselling book on the O.J. Simpson trial, recalls how he arrived with a party of six recently at the hip Bouley Bakery on West Broadway, only to discover that another group had swiped his table. The imposters appear to have read his name upside down in the reservation book when the maitre d'hotel wasn't looking. They refused to move.
"We suggested to the new party that it was unfair, but they figured correctly that we wouldn't cause a scene," explains Toobin. "I felt sorry for the restaurant because they couldn't bodily remove them. Eventually, the waiters improvised a table for us in the bakery at the entrance to the restaurant."
Possession is nine-tenths of the law in the battle to find a table in New York's top eateries. Unscrupulous customers have forced many maitres d'hotel to close the reservation book before showing people to their tables. But diners will stop at nothing to secure a table with the best view. The best view of passing celebrities, that is. Indochine restaurant in Greenwich Village, caters for the black turtleneck brigade. The maitre d'hotel, Fidel Marquez, has seen every trick in the book.
"People will name-drop incredibly to get a table," he says. "They will mention the name of someone who hasn't worked here for 10 years, or claim to be the best pal of the previous owner. Well, if they were such good friends, they would know he wasn't here any longer!" One category of cheat is the Impersonator of the Famous. Marquez explains: "We have clients who use the name of a famous person when they book, then arrive and say "Oh, he couldn't make it at the last moment." Indochine is also in danger of becoming a fashion victim. "People who work in fashion shops will use the name of the designer to reserve a table, when it is actually the retailer coming in," says Marquez. "It happens all the time. We end up with two Dolce & Gabbanas the same night!" Le Chantilly, an elegant French bistro on New York's Eastside, accepted a recent reservation under the name of Bill Cosby. The staff eagerly waited for the TV comedian, but a man they didn't recognise arrived in his place. When he paid, his credit card said he was William Crosby. Hungry clients will resort to putting titles such as "princess", or "lord" in front of their names. They can't all be members of the Hungarian aristocracy, observe weary restaurateurs.
One maitre d'hotel describes with obvious disdain how clients have tried to bribe him by folding a note into his hand. Lot 61 in Chelsea, a vast former garage filled with artworks, attracts a young, Epicurean crowd who sip pink drinks late into the night. The restaurant owner, Amy Sacco, is familiar with all the ploys used by those who haven't booked far enough in advance. "Mostly people try to threaten us that they are powerful," she says. "They will hand over their business card after they have been refused, as if to say `You didn't recognise me and now you're in trouble.' But if we don't have a table, there is nothing we can do."
Other would-be diners are even less subtle. "We have had people seating themselves and then claiming that they were seated by the maitre d', " explains Sacco. "So we have introduced a new, fool-proof system. I would love to tell you what it is, but then I'd have to kill you!" The VIP's secretary is another favourite ruse. A caller will phone from the "president's office", but omit to say if it is the president of the US or a local darts club.
The River Cafe in Brooklyn Heights, which offers spectacular views of the Manhattan skyline, is known as one of the most romantic locations in New York. The Rolling Stones used the restaurant to launch their last world tour. "Stars get preferential treatment here," says general manager John McFadden. "We get princes, kings and prime ministers coming in. But people call all the time claiming to be a celebrity, then they arrive and they are not who they say they are." It could be called lying a la carte. McFadden explains, "A lot of customers phone and say that there has been a mistake and we lost their reservation. They say their secretary is excellent and it is impossible that she didn't book a table three weeks ago. . ."
The Tribeca Grill in the fashionable district below Canal Street is co-owned by film star Robert De Niro, so it attracts more than its fair share of star spotters. "I think you have to sell the sizzle and the steak," says marketing director Tracy Nieporent. "When people can come here, have a good meal and see a star, it's a great combination."
Like many hot spots, the Tribeca Grill goes to great lengths to check out reservations with follow-up calls. Nierporent says: "We need to have built-in bull detectors."