Ten years ago this week, I got my start as the Dallas Observer’s food critic. I’ve been reviewing local restaurants ever since, and now I’m a decade older, a few pounds heavier, a good bit more traveled, and a little wiser. (Or, depending on which chef you ask, slightly less of a complete idiot.)
This all started as a lark, blogging for the Observer to the tune of $25 per article, which I split with my cowriter and best friend. We each spent our $12.50 on cheap beers at the restaurants we covered. Today, the way I work is very different: full-time at D Magazine, with a company card. I’m now North Texas’ only food critic, and most quality restaurants recognize me when I walk in, no matter which fake name is on the reservation. Recognition may sound cool to you, but many owners and chefs behave pretty freaking weird when they find out I’m in the building.
With great responsibility comes great learning. I teach myself constantly, whether that means stocking up on cookbooks from new perspectives, asking chefs to unpack Dallas history, asking low-level workers what their bosses are like, or tugging back the curtain to see how kitchens really operate…