Walking into a hip restaurant is sometimes, I’d gather, not entirely unlike taking a dive into the Mariana Trench at the bottom of the Pacific. IPhones and Androids float like phosphorescent plankton in dark culinary abodes, illuminating the expressionless faces of users in a ghastly shade of computer blue. Occasionally, food is consumed.
Perhaps this is why New York eateries are so dark inside: Light has become the new BYO as chefs expect guests to bring their own digital luminescence. How else could anyone read all those menus? Or Instagram all those tacos?
