One female food writer's thoughts about Pete Wells stepping down
Plus: a new country bar, artisanal bourbon, and Greek restaurant on the water
For those of you who don’t monitor food news voraciously, renowned NYTimes restaurant critic Pete Wills recently announced he was leaving his post because of health concerns.
Wells has been writing about food at the Times for 12 years, a fact he blames for his newly obese status, which seems to have crept up on him. In food writing circles, Wells writes, no one talks about health:
We avoid mentioning weight the way actors avoid saying “Macbeth.” Partly, we do this out of politeness. Mostly, though, we all know that we’re standing on the rim of an endlessly deep hole and that if we look down we might fall in.
His piece immediately recalled to me a moment from a summer ago, when my friend Gabi and I were at a bustling tapas spot in Spain, jockeying to order. At the counter, two young women in sundresses sat talking to a balding man with an assured air. “I’m a restaurant reviewer,” he told them; the women oohed and aahed. We listened as they pestered him with questions about what they should order, what other restaurants in the area they should visit, and what Basque specialties they needed to try before leaving.
At some point, Gabi decided to interrupt. “My friend is a food writer, too,” she said.
The women turned to me, looked me up and down, and both exclaimed, “How do you look like that?”
I tell this story not to flex that I haven’t yet succumbed to the quantities of food I’m eating. Rather, this moment struck me as such a perfect microcosm of the pressure I’ve felt since starting to write about food — one that I’ve long suspected was gendered.
My sympathies lie with Wells, of course, but I can’t relate to how he describes moving through the food world, because I’m constantly reminded of how my physical body presents. Each time I disclose that I write about food, some version of that same conversation plays out. Many have told me they “never would have guessed” my profession; I’m often asked about my exercise routine. And the attention has forced me to start getting healthier — yay pilates — but has also made me paranoid, doubly aware that my body is being judged in each new interaction.
None of this ever came up before I allowed my love of food to enter the conversation, which is why I was so surprised by Wells’s claim that health is something he never talks about — sometimes, health feels like the only thing I am asked to talk about.
In his piece, Wells briefly puzzles over the fact that male food writers tend to die early from health complications, but female food writers have historically avoided that fate. When I read that, it didn’t confuse me at all; I’m willing to bet that all the people those women writers meet constantly remind them of their weight, too.
Best bites of July
Lunch special at Don Neo Fusion (142 Montague St, 2nd Floor)
Don Neo Fusion opened in May on the second floor of a storefront on Montague, and it seems like nobody heard about it. I was alone in the restaurant for the duration of my meal at lunchtime, and I was shocked by it. The lunch special here is wildly good — I got a salmon donburi bowl, a chicken yakitori, and the most beautiful miso soup I’ve ever had with a billowing anemone-shaped piece of tofu floating in it, all for $20. The salmon was served raw, then blowtorched at my table. For a lunch special! That’s crazy!
Space Spam at Orion Bar (157 Sudyam St)
Bushwick’s Orion Bar opened in late June, after a considerable crowdfunding effort. I visited recently at the beginning of a night out and obviously had to order the weirdest thing on the drinks menu, which is the Space Spam cocktail. This spicy frozen cocktail is made with aged rum, pineapple, gochugaru rice syrup, aperol, and “smoke” — and it comes in a repurposed Spam can. The gochugaru syrup and smoky flavoring make the drink distinctly meaty, like you’re sipping liquidized Korean BBQ. I can imagine a night built on these getting quite rowdy.
Iskender at Istanbul Bay (8002 Fifth Ave)
My friend Eli has SUMMER FRIDAYS off (awesome), so a few weeks ago we decided to go to Bay Ridge for a self-guided food tour. We went to six different spots, all of which were exciting, but I simply can’t stop thinking about Istanbul Bay and its gorgeous iskender. It’s been several years since I visited Istanbul, but this dish brought me right back to Alp’s homeland — the flake-thin slices of lamb gyro are layered on top of croutons, then slathered in a tomato-based sauce, and served with a hunky lump of yogurt on the side. I knew Eli and I had more restaurants to hit after this meal, but I still couldn’t stop myself from filling up so much on these slivers of lamb that I almost derailed the whole mission.
In Other News…
I’ve been going to Williamsburg SO much lately.
Desert 5 Spot, LA’s favorite country bar, arrives in Williamsburg – This is a much more voice-y piece than I am usually allowed to write about a crazy new country bar in Williamsburg. (Can I shift gears to become a Brock Colyar at this point in my writing career? Doubtful, but you can’t blame a gal for trying.) If you are illiterate you can just watch my first TikTok about it instead.
Here’s the scoop on Caffè Panna – Told you I would be going to the new Williamsburg location! Turns out owner Hallie is not just the daughter of Danny Meyer, but also the older sister of two other Meyers whom I’ve encountered running around the city as a child. Fun fact, she started Caffè Panna at the age of 26 — very inspiring for us 25-year-olds with big dreams.
Gorgeous new Greek restaurant leans gluten-free – Psaraki’s owner James asked me specifically to arrive at the South Williamsburg Greek restaurant via the ferry to have a true Odysseus experience — which seems like something a person should want to avoid on the way to dinner, mythologically speaking, but I went along with it. Lots of gorgeous fish here. Great place to go with a treat-yourself mentality.
Six years in the making, an heirloom bourbon debuts in Red Hook – Alcohol reporting always leads me to the coolest places. Widow Jane Distillery has its own heirloom corn-based bourbon called Baby Jane, and the six-year-aged bottle just hit shelves. To explain how it’s made, head distiller Sienna toured me around the Red Hook distillery and even tapped a fresh barrel for me to taste some of the bourbon — at 9 am. (I had only a couple of sips, and still stumbled home.)
With adoration,
Hannah
basically you’re a genius
agreed, yay Pilates.
engage 'da core
love, Jenna