It’s been fantastic, but today is my last day as Grub Street’s senior editor. Next up I’ll be fulfilling my lifelong dream of opening a full-scale Baby Shmoo Donut Shoppe. The moment that does not work out, otherwise known as next Tuesday, I’ll be setting off to work on other projects. With any luck, you’ll see my byline here again attached to a post or two in the future.
It’s been fun writing about the demise of power lunches, the frozen-yogurt bust, the uni of cheese, oddball kale hybrids, the death of New York’s romantic restaurants, the ‘80s, and lots and lots about clams. I had the pleasure of taking a pair of Italian grandmothers to dinner at Carbone and hanging out in Eleven Madison Park’s kitchen as Alinea’s cooks took over the restaurant. It was fun meeting ramen man Ivan Orkin back before his first shop opened, and introducing the world to Cronuts, and later being super-serious on CNN about them.
My deepest thanks goes to editor Ben Williams for the guidance, Rob Patronite and Robin Raisfeld for their insight, and Adam Platt for his occasionally cynical wisdom. It’s been unrelentingly great working alongside the talented Sierra Tishgart, and also with Alan Sytsma, who is a skillful, smart, and patient editor, and also a friend. I’d be remiss if I did not thank Jed Egan and Konstantin Sergeyev, who are fine photographers and photo editors. Melissa Hom, Grub’s roving photographer, has been responsible for dozens and dozens of food shots that did most of the heavy lifting in my posts. Finally, the copy desk, led by Alicia Kennedy. They are fantastic, indefatigable editors, and they know a lot about grammar.
Grub Street’s readers have made this all very worthwhile since day one. This includes everyone who shared a post, commented on one, and all those who have sent in irritated, inscrutable letters in longhand. I will miss you all, but you’re in terrific hands.