When I started this thing back in March, I knew I wanted to write a newsletter, and I knew I wanted it to be about restaurants, but I had to ask myself why I loved them and how I could express myself in a way that felt unique. I realized that while food has everything to do with it, my infatuation with restaurants is mostly about being in a place with a certain kind of energy—defined chiefly by the people who have poured their hearts and souls into crafting and operating such an establishment, and partially by the cast of characters that dine there. Dining at a restaurant is, or at least has the potential to be, the most natural, jubilant, and nourishing transactional experience there is. The moments in which, as a diner, you can recognize that; those of being on the receiving end of a collaborative effort to provide pleasure; those of being treated with warmth and kindness; in essence, moments of human connection and understanding—that is what I want to dwell on. To that end, I don't want to ruminate negatively. There is a time and a space for that, and don't get me wrong, I engage in pessimistic critique all the time—in person, on Twitter, in tips on Foursquare. Yet I have no interest in chronicling my bad experiences at length. Instead, I want to consider what makes a great meal special and how certain places (
RIP to the greatest food writer there was
RIP to the greatest food writer there was
RIP to the greatest food writer there was
When I started this thing back in March, I knew I wanted to write a newsletter, and I knew I wanted it to be about restaurants, but I had to ask myself why I loved them and how I could express myself in a way that felt unique. I realized that while food has everything to do with it, my infatuation with restaurants is mostly about being in a place with a certain kind of energy—defined chiefly by the people who have poured their hearts and souls into crafting and operating such an establishment, and partially by the cast of characters that dine there. Dining at a restaurant is, or at least has the potential to be, the most natural, jubilant, and nourishing transactional experience there is. The moments in which, as a diner, you can recognize that; those of being on the receiving end of a collaborative effort to provide pleasure; those of being treated with warmth and kindness; in essence, moments of human connection and understanding—that is what I want to dwell on. To that end, I don't want to ruminate negatively. There is a time and a space for that, and don't get me wrong, I engage in pessimistic critique all the time—in person, on Twitter, in tips on Foursquare. Yet I have no interest in chronicling my bad experiences at length. Instead, I want to consider what makes a great meal special and how certain places (