Hello. My name is Brian Ries, and I am Creative Loafing's new food editor. You might have heard of me from such hits as last week's restaurant review and, well, every piece that's been on this page for the last couple of years. We know each other, you and I. We've connected.
It's been a good run, but the overlords here at CL thought that we could do better. Their solution?
More me. (Well, I think that's a good choice.)
Starting this week, I've moved from freelance restaurant reviewer to full-time food editor. Never fear, the reviews will remain the same wry, hard-edged truth you've grown accustomed to (or the same bitter, jaded drivel you've come to expect, depending your perspective) but there will be some changes.
My first change? Less me. You know that little blurb at the bottom of this page that tries to explain why I've got the chops to do this job? We're dumping it. By this point, you've either learned to treat my reviews as gospel, or I've permanently pissed you off by deflating your favorite eatery. Either way, a brief bio isn't going to change your mind.
Before we lay the past to rest, though, it does make sense to dole out a little re-taste of what I've learned and where I'm coming from. In the past three years, I've reviewed about 250 restaurants for Creative Loafing. Makes my previous gigs as a bartender, waiter, sommelier and restaurant manager seem like mere practice.
In those three years, I've driven hundreds of miles for flaccid fried chicken, stale sushi, bland brisket and enough boring crème brûlée to fill a landfill. But for every bad place I've visited, I've also found mind-blowing barbecue, exquisite tortillas and superb soup down the same streets. Good. Evil. Sometimes it's difficult to tell them apart.
Hopefully, that's what I've been able to do for you in the past and what you'll continue to find on this page for years to come. Let me do the legwork for you. It might save you some heartache. Or heartburn.
I can also save you some money. These days, we eat out a lot, to the tune of $1,600 per person per year, according to the USDA. Taking a tiny piece of that budget to try out the new Tandoori place or corner deli is worth the risk; spending a hefty chunk of hard-earned cash on a fancy dinner or special occasion, though, has the potential for profound disappointment or decadent pleasure.
So, I'll still be hiding my face from the paparazzi, busting out pseudonyms for reservations and laying down credit cards in the names of my favorite comic book characters or noir film directors. And, to the tune of semi-regular hate mail, these reviews will continue to blaze a path through unknown restaurants.
But if you like to do a little culinary urban exploration yourself, if you want to get ahead of the crowds and discover the hottest new spots before the reviewers get a hold of them, I can help with that, too. From now on this space will also include everybody's favorite dish: Leftovers. This regular feature will include restaurant gossip, closings and openings and steaming hot news from the Suncoast's vibrant dining scene.
Can't wait? Don't worry, I'll be posting that info on a daily basis in our new food and restaurant blog, Eat My Florida (eatmyflorida.com) — live, local and late-breaking. If you know something we don't, let us in on it, and you'll see your very own tasty tidbit online and in the paper.
And let's not forget that there is more to sustenance than what the waiter brings you. Eating is one of life's greatest pleasures — it should be a conscious and considered act. We'll be looking for the background and issues surrounding what we eat, as well as delving into the bounty of resources that the local food scene has to offer.
Yeah, that does seem a little serious for the guy who once wrote about using popsicles as marital aids. A few weeks ago I tried — and utterly failed — to eat 14 hot dogs in 10 minutes. There will be more like that, too. Food is fun, folks.
But for all of this to work, I'm going to need your help. I'd like you to start thinking about changing the way you eat.
Sure, we need food to live. And many of us take for granted that, like the air inside a taxi or Sarasota tap water, just because it's necessary doesn't mean it's going to be good. That's why there's a bloomin' onion on every corner and a frozen food aisle in the grocery store bursting with frosty convenience. We have to eat.
But maybe — and I know this is revolutionary, so stick with me — maybe we don't need to eat food created for the lowest common denominator. Maybe we're more sensible than that. Maybe we deserve better.
There are people and places out there just dying to provide you with damn tasty food, no matter how much you have in your pocket or what kind of grub you're looking for. The Suncoast is just lousy with good restaurants. It's time to reward them.
I want to celebrate these worthy establishments, so I'm calling upon everyone to stand up and be counted. Say it loud and say it proud: From this day forward, I will only eat good food. And Brian will help me to find it — if I haven't already told him about it first.
This article appears in Jun 13-19, 2007.