Best of Cappuccino: Nusret Gökçe Throws Salt In Our Faces

Just Gotta Ask: How Stupid Are We?

Originally posted on October12, 2021.

I’m in Houston visiting my adult kids, which is why I will be posting a “Best of” series this week, articles that you may have missed reading the first time around. I’m hoping to drop in periodically with some fresh perspectives, so stay tuned.

Equal parts Tony Montana from Scarface and kiddie birthday magician, salt impresario Nusret Gökçe demonstrates his signature moves

In the event that you’ve been living under a rock for the last four years—or you instinctively avoid viral videos of anyone who looks like Jesus from The Big Lebowski tumbling rock salt down his arm—let me acquaint you with the January 11, 2017 event that got this whole tsunami rolling.

I give you … Salt Bae.

For reasons that continue to elude me, Salt Bae, whose real name is Nusret Gökçe, the son of a Kurdish immigrant who grew up in Turkey, is now worth 60 million dollars. This man, by some mysterious alchemy, has managed to parlay his popularity from this video into a chain of luxe steak houses that span the globe: Ankara, Bodrum, Istanbul and Marmaris in Turkey; Mykonos in Greece; Miami, New York, Boston, Dallas, and Beverly Hills in the United States; London in the U.K.; Abu Dhabi and Dubai in the United Arab Emirates; Doha in Qatar; and Jeddah in Saudi Arabia.

Salt Bae didn’t invent a new marinade for steak. He isn’t donating the proceeds to busloads of blind orphans. He merely has the chutzpah to charge £50 for a cappuccino, £9 for a Coca-Cola, and a whopping £11 for a Red Bull. And that’s just the beginning. His signature 'giant tomahawk' steak wrapped in dictator chic gold leaf is £1450. A very mediocre hamburger which, as reported by one reviewer, consisted of “globs of fat and gristle, severely lacking in flavor,” is £100 (about $135.)

According to food critic Jimi Famurewa in what is arguably the most withering review to date of Nusret Gökçe’s restaurant, Nusr-Et Steakhouse in London, the place is packed, despite the limp gas station sushi, the “vibeless business lounge of a room,” and “a giant photo of Gökçe doing his signature salt-sprinkling pose … in a main room of flimsy cream curtains and gold-effect accents that evoke a conference suite at Mar-a-Lago.”

Of course, we find this kind of meaningless excess offensive. But who are we really angry at? Salt Bae and his overpriced, quasi-homoerotic, meat-a-palooza? The media (myself included) who give him the press he needs in order to continue swindling the desperately vapid? Or the diners themselves who are willing to fork over huge sums based on Gökçe’s perceived celebrity?

Ah, but these are the low-hanging fruit.

What actually bothers me is the fact that people no longer trust their own senses, just mindless Internet hype. When did we get this stupid? We know a £1450 steak is patently ridiculous, and yet, here we are. The bill itself becomes a part of the performance art, a status symbol like having Salt Bae himself himself gyrate at your table with his S&M gloves, black teashades, and turgid manchovies on full display in tight trousers. It’s the exclusivity of Studio 45 all over again, a capitalist cautionary tale meant to scare the FOMO right out of you (FOMO meaning the Fear Of Missing Out.) But the question is: are you smart enough to know you’re being had?

An actual receipt from Salt Bae’s restaurant that’s gone recently viral.

Are we willing to believe that within four years, a sixth-grade dropout went from doing salt contortions in front of an iPhone camera to opening sixteen high-end restaurants during a global pandemic? Really? Or that his gold-foiled meat is worth the price of a used car?

Are we that dense or that desperate to be celebrity-adjacent?

What worries me is that we may no longer be capable of any critical thinking. At all.

Restaurants are a great way to launder money, FYI. Salty Rico Suave here has already been accused by former employees of stealing their tips. What else is he stealing? Even his early Internet fame is suspect. How real was that? We live in a day and age when a former fake Trip Advisor reviewer managed to scam his way to the top of their restaurant listings with fake reviews, a fake restaurant, and a burner phone. How sure can we really be about the truth of anything anymore?

The walls are breaking down. Reality itself is crumbling.

On some level, Americans knew Trump was a drug-addled bankruptcy addict and racist game show host. They elected him anyway. Why? Because they believed his “reality” TV show, The Apprentice, was, in fact, real. Instead of trusting their own senses, they swallowed the narrative being fed to them by Fox News and others that Trump was “anti-establishment,” “swamp clearing,” “a very stable genius.”

Newsflash: people don’t even look like their photos anymore. Before Bella Hadid had hellaplastic surgery, even she didn’t look like her photos.

Before and After. Not dissing plastic surgery here. Hollywood is brutal on women, and they’re all competing for the same jobs. All I’m suggesting is that we not look at these photos and feel bad about ourselves. Why? Because what we’re seeing isn’t real.

If we’re a post-truth society, what’s real anymore? Is it any wonder conspiracy theories are flourishing? People who are just smart enough to know they’re being lied to keep tumbling down Internet rabbit holes in a desperate attempt to find a Singular Truth that keeps eluding them. Their suspicions are understandable. They’re simply not thinking it through. We’re in Wachowski Brothers’ territory here. The Matrix is real, but the Smiths are our own aggressive need to ignore the facts and follow the fantasy. A fantasy that wants us to believe Kim Kardashian was born with that ridonkulous derriere, and a glitzy saltapreneur can parlay thirty seconds of YouTube fame into an empire.

Salt Bae calling in his meat order.

Of one thing we may be sure: social media isn’t real. Don’t compare yourself to the images you see. Don’t feel bad that your life isn’t picture-perfect. Trust me when I tell you theirs isn’t either.

Know what else you should trust? Your good common sense. Such an old-fashioned virtue, common sense, but you see, we’re running a bit low these days.

Will you make a concerted effort to use it?

Equal parts Peruvian mine worker and coked-up maitre d, Salt Bae basks in the glory of being himself.

What’s your opinion of celebrity culture and the power of social media? I want to hear what you have to say, so be sure to leave your comment below.