A Lament About Tasting Menus Strikes a Chord The reaction to my piece about the pitfalls of tasting menus and the rise of restaurants that specialize in them has been a little overwhelming. There were moments as I was writing it when I thought I was climbing far out on a limb all by myself. But I feel less alone after scanning Twitter, where a number of people simply wrote "Amen," or "Amen, brother," and reader comments on the article, and e-mails from food writers who admitted that they, too, had often felt trapped when eating evening-long meals chosen by the chef. I have the feeling that this exposes a divide between people who love restaurants and the chefs who have come to think of the tasting menu as the highest form of their craft. Granted, those chefs are still in a minority, and tasting-only restaurants are rare. But the trend has been moving in their direction. Given how few customers most of these restaurants are able to serve, and how many glowing reviews they've received from me and other critics, it's easy enough for these chefs to fill every chair every night. And that may be all they need. But the voices out there crying "Enough!" do suggest that the small audience for this kind of meal does not include a pretty sizable chunk of the larger fine-dining customer base. So tasting menus might be a great business model for restaurants that can get away with them, but the chefs may want to give some thought to all those diners who would love a chance to experience their cuisine if it didn't require signing on for an expensive, time-consuming, all-or-nothing extravaganza. Several readers brought up the issue of wine pairings that are meant to match these tasting menus. Space didn't permit me to uncork that particular jeroboam, and in any case my thoughts about it are more personal than universal. But if you care: I tend not to take the wine-pairing route with very long menus, especially when I'm on the job. I appreciate the care that often goes into the sommelier's choices. But the alcohol and the frequent spiels on just what is being poured and which of its qualities are supposed to complement which ingredients can prevent me from paying attention to the food, and remembering it the next day. Even when I'm not on the job, I tend to avoid elaborate wine pairings. Those spiels chip away at the already limited time I have to talk with the other people at the table. I'd rather pick a versatile bottle and take my chances that it won't get along with a course or two. Invariably, that strategy turns out to be less expensive, too. I'm not always convinced that these pairings are a good value, although for some drinkers the introduction to unfamiliar wines might justify the price. Finally, a few readers seem to have thought the point of our slide show of the current tasting menu at Atera was to show how preposterous and unappetizing the food is. That was not the idea at all. I didn't choose the art, but I believe my editors were trying to evoke a visceral reaction of "Holy cow, is that a lot of food!" I wrote in my review that Matthew Lightner's cooking at Atera is quite beautiful, often in ways that I found quite moving. Much of it looks strange, and there are always people who balk at eating the unfamiliar. But new sensations are one of the chief reasons we go to restaurants like Atera.