It’s kitchen bitchin’ 2011

As 2011 winds down, it’s time to tackle the dreaded question diners grew sick of hearing in all kinds of restaurants this year:

“Is everything to your liking?”

Maybe inspired by the Borscht Belt joke, “Is anything to your liking?” it dares you to tell the waiter what you really think about overcooked chicken, the bitchy hostess and his bad breath as he reeled off the specials.

Once confined to cheap bistros, it’s now infiltrated the waitstaff’s lexicon even at places as classy as Aldea and Ai Fiori. But instead of telling the truth — because you’re mute with disbelief that anybody outside an English-as-a-second-language class would say, “to your liking” — you mumble that all’s dandy.

But not here! By no means is everything to our liking, beginning with atrocities such as those that follow:

1. Before you tout the cuisine, learn to cook the calamari. Maria Loi, the “Martha Stewart of Greece,” first said her eponymous new West 70th Street place would show New Yorkers what “real” Greek food is. Then, realizing it wasn’t smart to diss locals who love Milos and Periyali, she allowed that Michael Psilakis of Anthos fame is a great chef. But Psilakis himself said his menu at Anthos was not authentic. So what’s she going on about?

The restaurant Loi might turn out to be swell once it stops loving itself. But whatever school of cooking was represented by rubber-tough, oil-slicky kalamari schares the other night should be chained and padlocked. They took it off our bill. But how could anything so inedible come out of a preening new kitchen?

2. Joints running on past glory. Not since the back-from-the-dead Russian Tea Room has there been a less welcome reincarnation than the new Second Avenue Deli on First Avenue. Beloved, slain founder Abe Lebewohl would squirm over this revival where most everything is fake, from a tacky-looking ceiling to “Jewish penicillin” — watery matzo ball soup that would not revive an amoeba.

3. Talking back to critics. A restaurant should suffer its beating in silence. Do not whine that Adam Platt or Sam Sifton didn’t “get” it. Do not tweet that Yelp shills, who are paid to post nonsense, really understand the chef’s vision.

Last summer, gloomy new Casa Nonna announced a “Cuozzo Challenge,” where customers would get 15 percent off if they liked the joint more than I did. I don’t know how much extra dough it brought in, but if they’re using us to sell, shouldn’t The Post get a cut of the action?

4. Private-party hell. The scars (and our ears) have yet to heal from a meal at La Petite Maison, where we were “accommodated” at a tiny table amidst rooms full of screeching, 7-foot-tall Fashion Week women and their (literal) handlers. Ban these horror shows or just tell the rest of us you’re closed for the night.