The Clampetts Go to Nobu, and Harangue Jason Biggs

Jason Biggs: still sensitive about that whole American Pie thing... Typically, Nobu is so difficult to infiltrate that a whole mythology has built up around it. I used to recall with pride the evening three years ago when I secured a table at the world-famous restaurant by pretending to be someone else and was seated next to Fred Schneider. Before I went, I'd consulted with a food critic about what to expect in way of the tab. "Oh, I would say a couple hundred dollars per person at least," he assured me seriously. "Of course, I've never been myself..."

As we all know, things have changed post-9/11. I didn't realize quite how drastically until a few Wednesdays ago, when my party of three unexpectedly scored a table at Nobu without a reservation, made fun of an American Pie cast member under management's nose and still contemplated dessert. Things are feeling more like the America I signed up for every day.

My brother Jess had flown into town for the holidays, and we wanted to kick things off with nice meal. (Last Christmas we treated ourselves to the condescension of old German men at Peter Luger.) I hadn't made a reservation anywhere, but my fiance had dined at Nobu Next Door several days prior and said there'd been no wait, he might have seen Gwyneth Paltrow and that they serve "this fish thing that's really good."

When we got to Nobu Next Door, which doesn't take reservations for small parties, there was more than an hour wait. Then, motioning for me to come closer, the hostess whispered, "Go next door."

Excuse me?

"I said go next door," she repeated. "They've probably got lots of empty tables right now..."

"Oh, my husband tells me that all the time," a young Jewish-looking woman was saying to the Nobu gatekeeper when I entered. "You know my husband?he's here constantly."

"And how old are you?" the host asked what must have been her kid sister, who looked like Israel's answer to Paris Hilton.

"Eighteen," she answered with blatant disinterest.

"I know you," the host went on as the girl grabbed her wrap. "I was just like you once, and all I have to say is slow down."

She smiled weakly and made for the door. There was some nasally laughter from the group around them, and I used the break in rhythm to make the presence of my accessory (a new green Burberry scarf) felt.

"Are there any tables?" I asked. "We don't have a reservation, but the woman next door said we should come over."

At this point my brother, sporting faded jeans, white gym socks and black dress shoes, was already handing someone his coat. Our host ran a hand through his greasy hair and slinked into the dining room. My brother trailed behind.

"Come on!" my fiance shouted. "Jess got us a table!"

We weren't seated in the center of the room, or even toward the back. Still, we were seated, and not at the sushi bar. Glancing about I noticed several empty tables.

After I explained to my brother that the "Nobu way" is to share some cold dishes, a couple hot entrees and finally sushi, the waiter approached and Jess declared confidently in a slight Southern accent, "Yeah, look, we'd like to do this thing the Nomu way."

My fiance tried to help by asking for the "really good fish dish" he'd had before. After a few minutes the waiter, in his mid-20s and apparently an average enough Joe, was joking with us about "all the rich guys" who come in and guaranteeing he wouldn't "jack up" the price if we let him order. He also told us, with visible concern, and only after we pressed him, that business had slowed down considerably following the attack, and as yet had not come close to picking back up.

Following a nice, healthy portion of Knob Creek bourbon and some truly excellent cod, the men excused themselves. On the way to the bathroom my brother spotted Biggs, from the American Pie movies. Seconds later, Biggs entered the john. My fiance and I are huge fans of the American Pie films. Biggs, currently playing opposite Kathleen Turner in the Broadway version of The Graduate, apparently is not.

"Hey, you know what I'm having for dessert?" my fiance asked Jess, thinking Biggs was out of earshot. "I think I'm going to fuck me a pie!"

Moments later, I went to the ladies room, the boys returned to our table?and so did Biggs. This is what I'm told ensued:

"You're a real funny guy," Biggs smirks at my fiance.

"What?"

"I said you're real funny." Biggs pats him sarcastically on the back.

My fiance raises his glass, grins and replies, "Well, thanks!"

By the time I returned to our table my fiance was saying, "Should we take him, dude?"

"We definitely can take him," my brother mumbled, "but do we want to? He's talking to the maitre d'. Now the maitre d' is pointing at us. Biggs is stepping outside..."

We were not, to my surprise, reprimanded or ejected. But by the looks we got from the staff as we left, Biggs clearly had made his point with the management.

So?economy tanks, riffraff slips in through the cracks, stars are harassed and town goes to hell. As for Biggs, well, we may be back at Nomu sooner than you think.