What to Do When a Hit Doesn't Hit
An off night, or is something off-kilter?
What to Do When a Hit Doesn’t Hit
The new Tame Impala record is just alright. It’s not as horrible as people are saying, but it’s missing the magic — that special Kevin Parker sauce. Deadbeat doesn’t deliver the psychedelic, otherworldly feeling that Currents did, nor is it really trying to. But I can’t figure out what it is trying to do. Artists are allowed to evolve and change their sound, yes — but in the process, you can’t lose production value. And this album feels like a step in the wrong direction.
I’ll leave the talk about drum machines and lyricism to Pitchfork. Long story short, this record feels half-baked compared to its predecessors. It didn’t feel as meticulously considered. It didn’t make me feel as nice. It’s hard to imagine it being something that’ll keep me coming back.
That’s how it goes with music. I felt the same way about RÜFÜS DU SOL’s album last year — an artist I thought couldn’t miss put out an absolute dud. Parcels’ LOVED came out a few weeks ago and feels shallow and uninspired compared to their self-titled debut.
When an artist you know and love misses, the path forward is simple: listen to something else. Or revisit the older stuff — those songs aren’t going anywhere. It’s disappointing, no doubt, but hardly the end of the world.
But what happens when a hit restaurant doesn’t hit? What do you do when the spot you thought was great lets you down on a return visit? Do you give it another shot? Move on entirely?
It’s an issue I run into often. A place I gushed over online lets me down on visit number two. Or a long-standing favorite has an uncharacteristic off night. It’s easy to second-guess yourself. Maybe my expectations for the follow-up were too high. Maybe it was never that good to begin with. Usually, though, I’m grounded enough in my own reality to know when I’m not crazy — that something has shifted — even if it’s hard to pinpoint what.
I walked into Bong on Friday night, prepared to write a full-ass review about the best new restaurant in New York. Back in July, when I visited during their soft-ish opening phase, the place completely rocked me. The atmosphere made me feel like I was part of something special — a restaurant with a bold new perspective: free-spirited, but dialed in. The Cambodian food was powerful, yet refined. Bong’s whole fried fish changed my entire outlook on eating whole fish at restaurants (from skeptic to lover!). I was ready to tell you this was a Flood’s Worldwide-worthy spot worth planning a trip around. But visit number two at Bong was… just alright.
Once you know you like a restaurant’s concept — and at Bong, I certainly did — the evaluation shifts and simplifies. Now the question is: how do the food, service, and vibe stack up against last time?
Consistency with the food matters most. The execution needs to be on or around the same level as before. If you loved a dish once, it better still be a winner. For restaurants that overhaul the menu frequently ~changing with the seasons,~ since the culinary experience is shifting, there’s more leeway. But like musical artists changing their sound with a new album cycle, the production value needs to stay high. You don’t have to love every new dish, but you should like most.
I’m more forgiving about service lapses. Ideally, the service only gets sharper and friendlier as you become a regular. There are dozens of potential reasons for an off-night of service: staff turnover, no-shows, slammed shifts. I can generally roll with the punches and trust it’ll get sorted over time. I once had an abysmal service experience on my tenth-ish visit to Cervo’s, but the prawns were still crisp and doused in garlic oil — making it easy to look past.
It’s trickier to maintain a steady vibe. I respect the hell out of the places that do. As a restaurant gains popularity, the feeling inside inevitably changes. The once-hidden neighborhood gem fills up with LED lights and fussy diners. There’s only so much a restaurant can do to control its crowd. But the ambiance is certainly within their control. Is the room as perfectly dim? Is the playlist still good? Does it feel as nice to be in that room? I walked into Eyval one time, and the lights in the usually pitch-black dining room were all the way up, and I almost lost my mind.
Round two at Bong wasn’t a bad time — it just didn’t hit like before. The new fall menu had more flops than winners. The whole fried dorade — last visit’s showstopper — wasn’t as crisp, and its Thai basil and lettuce accompaniments were limp. The vibe was still rocking — neon green walls, funky art, and a chaotic, high-energy flow of the operation — but the music volume spiked and dropped with every song change, almost comically. It just wasn’t nearly as dialed.
And look, I’m empathetic. It’s so hard to get it all right. And even harder to get it right all the time. But the reality is, Bong is open for dinner three nights a week — they have no excuse not to be on when they’re on.
If it were my first visit, I probably wouldn’t go back. But now that I have two data points to work with, I’m faced with this age-old question: what to do when a hit doesn’t hit?
My immediate first move is to reset with the most dependable spots I know. Meals I’m certain will deliver. On Saturday, papaya salad and pad see ew at SUKH. Earlier today, burgers at Red Hook Tavern. Shit that’ll put me in a level-headed, positive frame of mind. Then, I reevaluate.
In this case, Bong absolutely gets another chance. The first visit was so mind-bendingly good that it earned that grace. I’m not gonna race — I’ll give it time to settle, find its rhythm. But I’ll be back. And I think [I hope] those lapses will smooth out. I know how good they can be.
Not every restaurant gets the luxury of a revisit after a flop. Price certainly matters. I’m far more tolerant of a rough day at the neighborhood Lebanese takeout spot than the $100 wine bar. Location matters too — the Ridgewood hit that falters probably won’t get me to make that trek again. The place on my block is going to eventually get another opportunity, likely on a stormy night.
Ultimately, the recommendations I share on Flood’s are rooted in this philosophy: I’m not just chasing one-off great meals — I’m looking for dependability. The places that stay good visit after visit, or at least give me reason to believe they will. There’s nothing I love more than getting a text from a friend about a banger of a meal they had through a recommendation of mine. Or an internet stranger sending a DM about their Montreal itinerary built off Flood’s Worldwide. It’s the best. I take that shit seriously.
At the end of the day, it’s consistency — not perfection — that matters. My favorites, musically and culinarily, have shown they can bring it again and again. Even the greats have off nights or the inexplicably bad track, but those should be the exception, not the rule. Maybe it’s unreasonable to expect these living art forms to be stable or enduring. Maybe their brilliance is meant to be fleeting — brief flashes of something extraordinary.
But when a hit does hit, and keeps hitting — when a band or a restaurant manages to capture that magic twice, three times, ten times — that’s when it transcends trend or timing. That’s when it becomes something truly special.
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"Consistency not perfection". I'm coming with for that third trip!