Dinner with Grimes
William Grimes is out of his mind.  Well, all right, he isn't. I'm just trying to be punchy. In fact, I like his writing for the Times these days. He seems to have reinvigorated the entire mopey "Dining In/Dining Out" section, with his raids on the likes of Drew Nieporent and Warner LeRoy, his slightly sarcastic though always exhaustive style of restaurant reviewing, and his schizo adoration-slash-disdain for upper-crust gourmandizing. Even Eric Asimov, who seemed to shrink to outerborough chow-rat status beneath the highblown sentimental theatrics of Ruth Reichl, has his cojones back. He's all spry and lively and adventurous again, and his prose?to my reading, anyway?has been given an invigorating shot of confidence. It's as if Reichl were an overbearing sister, lording it over her less dramatic siblings, forcing them all to cower in her eccentric celebrity.