You can always spot the undercover restaurant critics by their kabuki masks.
“Ms. Lemos, I presume,” I said with a mock flourish.
“Just call me Gael,” she said with a weary smile.
This weary smile will be familiar to anyone who has dined with a practicing restaurant critic and quizzed him or her on the strange, time-honored Kabuki dance that takes place between chefs and restaurateurs and the people whose job it is to cover them.