The pursuit of TikTok fame is pushing restaurants toward mediocrity

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By the time I had packed for my spring trip to Manhattan, my TikTok feed was already inundated. Every couple of swipes showed me a new video. White-gloved waiters breaking egg yolks tableside onto a 10-ounce Wagyu cheeseburger at 4 Charles. Logo-topped butter at the American-chic, Ralph Lauren-owned the Polo Bar. A red, white and basil-green plate of rolled lasagna at Italian-American Don Angie.

Despite their stark difference, the three restaurants have something in common: Each has, at some point in the past year, gone viral on social media. Although there are an estimated 25,000 restaurants to visit in the city, I found myself jumping through hoops to secure reservations at the few in my feed. I called the Polo Bar once a week for a month leading up to my departure, and tried to reserve for three people instead of two at Don Angie (a TikTok hack for couples trying to snag hard-to-get reservations). The algorithm had worked.

While we used to rely on peers and impartial critics for dining recommendations, many people now turn to social media. The quick videos of TikTok specifically have changed how people find a place to eat, and influencers have become the mainstay for driving attention to new spots.

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In its most utopian form, social media puts power back into the hands of the people. For a certain generation, influencers and their picks can be more accessible than the guides and tastemakers that came before. And local favourite mom-and-pop eateries often benefit from such online reviews. But critics of the trend say influencers and the desire to go viral have created a homogeneous dining experience with (at best) mediocre food.

Earlier this spring, Pete Wells, who has been The New York Times restaurant critic since 2011, published his annual ranking of the 100 best restaurants in the city. Despite numerous TikToks naming Don Angie, the Polo Bar and 4 Charles among the “hottest restaurants in New York,” not one made the list.

Which is not all that surprising given that what makes a restaurant stand out on social media typically isn’t the food.

At some point, all restaurants began to offer similar fare – oversized presentations, signature dishes and an emphasis on espresso martinis (or other current drink of the season). It’s typically all presented against an aesthetically pleasing backdrop where guests can snap a photo they’ll later post on socials to signal, “I’ve been here.”

When Kristina Corniel, a TikTok food and travel influencer, goes out to eat in her hometown of New York, she’s looking for an experience – not a mere meal – to share with her 756,000 followers. In one of her most popular TikToks, of Meduza Mediterrania New York in Manhattan, food and drinks get a 14-second cameo in the 62-second-long video.

“The quality of the food is important, but I definitely care about aesthetics,” says Corniel, who has garnered more than 17 million likes on TikTok.

And while many would be loathe to admit it, nowadays chefs often have going viral in mind when planning menus.

Jordan Andino, the Toronto-born, Filipino-Canadian chef who hosts Netflix’s competition show Cook at All Costs, knew he needed four things when opening his restaurant, Carriage House, in Manhattan’s West Village: great presentation, a great burger, eye-catching cocktails and a signature dish. The latter ended up being a candle made out of butter that comes with the bread service: Guests are encouraged to wait as the wick burns and the butter melts onto a plate for dipping, Andino says.

“In those 90 seconds that people are waiting to eat their bread, they usually pick up their phones and take a picture or take a video.”

Of course, some social-media posts count more than others. Part of the pull of a good restaurant influencer is in their ability to be a tastemaker, a role that was once left to established critics and well-respected guides. The most famous is the Michelin Guide, which has been publishing since 1926 but has recently faced its own share of criticism for its elitist nature and the emotional turmoil chefs endure to chase and maintain one of its coveted stars.

In return for prime play on an influencer’s feed, some restaurants provide free meals and private photo opportunities. It’s a far cry from the days of restaurant critics making reservations under fake names and keeping their image secret.

“This isn’t journalism, this is lifestyle advertising,” says Karen Stabiner, an author and journalist who has covered the restaurant industry for publications including The New York Times, The Los Angeles Times and The Boston Globe.

In a New York Times opinion piece published last July titled “The 21st-Century Shakedown of Restaurants,” Stabiner touched on that dual impact that influencers have, relaying a critical message for the industry: “The more we rely on influencer posts, the more our critical faculties shrink, because often there’s no depth, no context, no reporting, nothing beyond the surface image of fun, and we can’t tell whom to trust.”

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Corniel says she receives more than 20 requests a month from restaurants that want her to visit and make a video. Some of those restaurants have offered her a free meal in exchange for publicity, while others have paid for her service. In those cases, a contract is involved.

Still, even if they can secure an influencer, a restaurant has to deliver the goods.

“The truth is, people eat with their eyes. If you have a good-looking food that photographs well, that’s when something goes viral,” says Lawrence Longo, chief executive officer and owner of Prince Street Pizza, which opened in Manhattan’s NoLita neighbourhood in 2012.

His most famous slice – a thick-cut Sicilian-style square with an abundance of pepperoni – has been the star of many TikTok videos. A Toronto location opened in October and has been serving up to 700 guests on busy nights, according to its general manager, AJ Wise.

In Manhattan, I never did secure a reservation at a few of the restaurants I tried to visit during my five-day stay. For the Polo Bar, I followed the advice of a TikToker and called daily at 2 p.m. while I was in the city, hoping for a cancellation.

At the end of my trip, I secured a spot: a 10 p.m. seating on a Monday. The recommended New York strip steak was ordinary, the Polo Bar burger was average and the Ralph’s corned beef sandwich I split as an appetizer was just that: a corned beef sandwich. But my photos on Instagram turned out great.