While we motored into False Creek yesterday, Lorne had emailed his RCMP contact, attaching the spreadsheets with our new findings. This morning, he sent them details of last evening's significant events and an outline of a plan which had evolved from our discussions in bed.

A few minutes into our breakfast, Lorne paused a bite short of his mouth and returned it to his plate when his phone chirped. "Likely from E Division."

"Hunh? What's that?"

"RCMP regional headquarters." He took the phone from his shirt pocket, thumbed in and selected, bobbing his head in silence as he read. Then he clicked off and said, "Far worse than we had suspected."

"How so?"

"Ummm. Confidential." He paused and pursed his lips. "But you have the need to know. They had assembled a special task force to investigate, and with the addition of yesterday's data, they've now solidly linked fourteen restaurants to unsolved disappearances and murders across the country, and there are dozens of others red-flagged."

"Oh, God!"

"Indeed! But they're caught in a dilemma. Acting on any of these now won't lead them to the mastermind, the kingpin – it'll break a few spokes, leaving the hub intact and the wheel still working."

"So, the police are stymied."

"Yes, for now. But they've approved our plan, hoping it triggers the reaction we've predicted – the Boss showing his hand as he scrambles to prevent his empire from collapsing."

"And if he doesn't?"

"It'll get a lot of the players off the street, and we'll move dining reviews back toward reality."

We finished breakfast and opened our computers to draft blog posts and edit each other's. An hour and a bit later, when we were satisfied with Lorne's, he pasted the Google doc into his blog editor. Then we sat nestled side-by-side, reading it a final time before committing.

The Phantom Foodie – Post 437

This post is a departure for me; it's more an editorial than a review, and with it, I'll describe a disturbing new trend in the dining scene.

Marketing is a major concern for most businesses and is often the key to remaining profitable. For restaurants, this might be by offering discount coupons, two-for-one deals, lower prices at unfashionable hours and so on. Another avenue is advertising placements – online, by broadcast or in print media.

But the results from all of these combined pale compared to those from a positive review, whether online or in print. People searching for new dining adventures and recommendations find these and spread the word among their friends, so it makes sense for restaurateurs to encourage reviewers.

This brings me to the point of this post. I've reviewed restaurants for many years, and those who follow me know I dine unannounced and anonymously. I never post a review unless I've recently dined there at least twice. Also, my loyal readers know that I don't post negative reviews. If I have little or nothing positive to say about a restaurant, I remain silent.

Most of the other reviews online and in print are now written by people who introduce themselves in advance. Okay, this has been a growing trend for many years, and the anonymous reviewer is nearly extinct. With integrity, the restaurant will show its normal quality and service, and with equal integrity, the reviewer will not accept free dining or other gratuities. The result is a fair review. But as with anonymous diners, fair reviews and integrity also seem to be on the endangered list.

I have a large file of unposted negative notes about restaurants, and this has grown much faster the past few months. My analysis of the file's contents found disturbing patterns – places with many glowing online reviews that grossly belie the quality I found.

Recently, I dined at a particular restaurant three times, the first two occasions in my usual incognito fashion. I was served food that I usually associate with pubs – commercially-prepared and microwave or deep-fryer ready, though it was dressed up with some creative plating. I have nothing against pub fare, but this place is not a pub. It has positioned itself in the fine-dining arena with its marketing, menu bafflegab, and pricing. Unfortunately, the food quality didn't follow the fluff and pricing there.

I left much of the salty, greasy food barely touched, paid the ransom and left to find more acceptable dining. In the days following those visits, I read their laudatory online and print reviews trying to make sense of my contradictory experience, questioning whether I had turned from critic to hypocritic.

Suspicion caused me to make a third visit, and I present a spurious business card as a restaurant reviewer when I asked for a table for lunch. They told me the chef wasn't there and suggested an evening he would be. When I arrived for the reservation, the manager escorted me past the waiting crowd, through the packed restaurant and into a private dining room with a single table.

During the next two and a half hours, I dined in Michelin-star style, enjoying superb cuisine, exquisite wines and exemplary service. The food was obviously prepared from scratch immediately before service using top-quality ingredients. None of it was on the restaurant menu.

At the end of the evening, I was given a thick dossier of papers, which included many pages of detailed descriptions of the menu items with tasting notes and links to free-use jpg images. There were also pages of suggested phrases, sentences and short paragraphs to use in the reviews.

The manager refused my attempt to pay, calling the evening a marketing expense. The hospitality cost them less than buying online placements or print media ads. The expected review would reach many more people, last longer and would receive a greater positive response.

Through these three visits, I saw two dining options offered – one for restaurant reviewers, hotel concierges and inbound tourism operators, the other for the public that these newly recruited marketers entice with their reviews. On the surface, this appears to be an illegal bait-and-switch. But these restaurants aren't doing the baiting – they leave that to those who've accepted the splendid free dining.

Why don't we all become snout-in-the-trough reviewers? Let's join the free dining brigade and swamp restaurants such as this. Then, maybe we can move reviews back toward reality and credibility.

How to Become a Snout-in-the-Trough Reviewer

– Start a blog – they're free and simple.
– Post a review – McDonald's, Wendy's, whatever.
– Create a reviewer business card on a template.
– Buy a pack of card blanks and print.
– Go to highly-rated places I haven't reviewed.
– Use cards to reserve free lunches and dinners.
– Dine often before the trough dries up.
– Enjoy.

Lorne looked up from the screen and shrugged. "Post?"

"Yes, definitely. Then I can add the link to mine."

He clicked Post, pasted the link into a drafted email and sent it. "That should add fuel to the flames."

I looked at his screen, trying to see what he meant. "What was that?"

"Sent the blog link to HQ. He said the task force will spam tweets, retweets, comments and likes to give it a kickstart toward viral."