I rarely eat in so-called five star restaurants so I can honestly say that I have no idea what criteria are utilized.
Six of us recently enjoyed dinner at a “restaurant” in the small Baja Sur town of Buena Vista that I would personally rate as a “10″–which I am not sure how relates to the 1 to 5 star rating methodology.
I put the word restaurant in quotation marks as the place may not meet the conventional definition of such.
There is no floor: there is no ceiling: there are no walls: basically there is no building.
The place is called the Corral and it is right along the Baja-spanning Highway 1, on the section of southern Baja, between La Paz and Cabo.
There are a few plastic tables and chairs placed on the dirt ground and a rustic wooded “corral-type” fence around the place.
The “kitchen”–which is shown in the picture–is probably not quite up to what Martha Stewart would be cooking in.
The wonderful women at the Corral serve a simple fare with one local favorite.
The grill a large piece of a flank or skirt steak while heating up a huge Russet potato. The potato is wrapped in foil and placed directly on hot coals so it gets a tasty crisp finish. They then stack a massive pile of the tasty beef inside the potato, along with cheese and we think butter. It is beyond great.
Five stars; a “10″; best of show–whatever. It’s hmmmm good.
While on the subject, Chris, one of our group of diners, gave us his version of a five star rating.
He gives one star if the food is essentially healthy. (I actually misunderstood him when he said this the first time and I thought he wanted food that didn’t make him sick, which I assume would be a given as a necessity.)
The next two ratings are based on good taste and plenty of it to eat.
And the last two are relatively fast service and at reasonable cost.
Lon and Liz, a couple that were with our illustrious group, related what a five star rating meant to them, based on their first hand experience at places that either were or were pretending to be.
One way of telling you that you are at a hoity-toity eating joint is when they bring you a glass, particularly of red wine, in a overly large glass that–if you are lucky–is filled one third full: if you are not lucky, it may only be one quarter full.
And, at that, you will likely pay, what, seven, nine, or more dollars.
Worse yet, these places have disguised and defined small–really small–portion sizes as presentation.
Typically you get a fork-full of entree on a beautiful large, white plate with plenty of empty real estate.
Lon and Liz mentioned a $100 dinner they had a while back.
After finishing their ostentatious yet meager meal they got back in their car and headed home.
Lucky for them they had done some shopping before dinner.
Not long after hitting the highway Lon asked Liz,
“Could you please dig out some of those Costco snacks–I’m starving!”
