Thoughts on food criticism in Albany--a response to a Jonathan Gold interview

I like Jonathan Gold.  Of course, right?  He's a Pulitzer Prize winner, one of the best food critics (or food writers in general) in America.  I've been familiar with his work for some time because I went to college in Los Angeles at a time when he was writing for the L.A. Weekly paper; even though I was far from a "foodie" back then, I do remember reading many of his pieces with interest and hitting up a couple of his finds, like some dive taco joint in Santa Monica that was, unsurprisingly, fantastic.

More than anything, I regret spending four years in that city and not following his leads on a weekly basis, particularly because I can't foresee myself living there again.

But I mention him here because I just came across an interview he did with Eater, and some of his comments got me thinking about the role of food criticism in a city like Albany and my (albeit small) role in that.  Compared to other cities I've lived in or near, Albany is a place in which tough criticism doesn't flourish.  There are reasons for that, though; Gold hit on some of them, and after I parse his comments, I want to elaborate a bit since I've been pondering this issue lately while mostly taking a little break from my own food writing.

Bad Role Models

One of the hazards of doing a food and beer blog is that, through eating and thinking about food and beer all the time, it's kind of easy to develop a bit of pooch around the waist.  I know it's not good for me, and it's something I need to work on eradicating, but it sort of comes with the territory.

On the flip side, I also like to spend some of my free time watching sports.  Now, sitting to watch isn't exactly good for my waistline, but you'd think that watching athletes in prime physical condition run and skate across my TV screen would serve as visible motivation for me to get in better shape.  These guys could be considered role models, in a way.

I was a 13-year-old sports obsessed kid who read Sports Illustrated but didn't have cable TV when Charles Barkley made his famous role models remarks: "I'm not paid to be a role model.  I'm paid to wreak havoc on the basketball court."  I might have been naive or uninformed about a lot of things in my middle school days, but I'd heard the stories about Barkley--the bar fights, the spitting incident, the on-court fights (those were the best; I was really just a future hockey fan, as it turns out).   So his comments gave me something to think about.

Now, as an appropriately-jaded adult, I don't really have any delusions about athletes being role models--not for their off-the-playing-surface behavior.  But on-field, it's hard not to be impressed.  The current athlete is in better shape than ever before in sporting history: lean and muscular, ripped and toned, fast and strong.  But then I look at my baseball team, the San Francisco Giants, winners of two of the last three World Series, and what do I see?

Bellies.  Big, round, bouncy bellies.

I'm Calling It "The Jimmer Lee"

To commemorate my first winter in the Capital Region, I wanted to honor a couple of local luminaries (and use up some leftover eggnog) in creating a splendid seasonal alcoholic drink, which I've christened "The Jimmer Lee."

The drink is named after A) Jimmer Fredette, the Glens Falls native who blew the minds of BYU basketball fans and is now riding the pine for my Sacramento Kings in the NBA, and B) Sandra Lee, fabulous Food Network host and girlfriend of New York Governor Andrew Cuomo.  (And no, this post is not mean-spirited because I know that Sandy does have feelings.)

Let me get a few clarifications out of the way before we start mixing this drink:

1) I am aware that Jimmer is a Mormon and therefore creating a drink in his honor is somewhat sacrilege, and

2) My tablescape, as seen above, is woefully lacking and in no way honoring Ms. Lee's work (a crate of clementines is no centerpiece).