an open cupboard

Gasp! Random, non-journalist type people are criticizing restaurants on the internet! Restaurateurs are losing money! Food journalists are going the way of the dinosaurs! We must save our jobs! Let’s slam them in the paper, that’ll shut ’em up!

That’s the short version of what you’ll read here. Sam has already summed up her feelings here. Now I know I’m just an ignorant foodblogger without a degree in journalism or a certificate from Le Cordon Bleu, but I’ll weigh in just the same.

I only recently began reviewing restaurants on the web, and generally small, local restaurants at that. Although I will sometimes bore my husband, friends, and family with my views of an eatery, I feel uncomfortable about sharing my views publicly. Why?

First, no matter how small my voice might be amid the cacophonous din of the web, there’s a minuscule chance my review could affect the livelihood of people who work at the restaurant I criticize. I would feel terrible about contributing in any way to anyone’s unemployment.

Second, I am not an expert. I don’t know what proper bouillabaisse is supposed to taste like, for example. I have not yet been to Provence, nor have I sampled numerous five-star restaurants in several world-class cities. I don’t feel I have the right to tell you whether a technically complex traditional French dish served at a particular expensive restaurant has been executed properly.

But I know good food. I know when a dish is prepared masterfully, delighting all of my senses. Making my skin tingle with pleasure, stopping conversation with its excellence. I know honestly prepared, homey food, with its fresh ingredients and its simple, straight-forward charm. I know passion and care, diligence and exactitude when I see it in a dish lovingly made, a baked good skillfully baked.

I also know careless food, stingy food, food served with arrogance and condescension, sometimes at some of the “better” restaurants in this area.

So, I’ve begun to publish my own little reviews, or “visits.” Certainly, as the article states, I am not bound by the esteemed code of ethics to which food journalists are suggested to adhere. But I am bound directly to you, the reader. And unlike print media critics, I sure as hell am not getting paid for my words.

We foodbloggers are here for a reason. To fill the void left by the corporate ad booklets masquerading as culinary magazines. To cut through the noise of gimmicky television chefs. To bring cooking back home. To share recipes and ideas, successes and failures. To create community.

There’s a pattern here. Every DIY movement emerges in response to a bloated, self-perpetuating establishment. Most establishments take heed, self-examine, and change, if they care to stay relevant. Foodbloggers have thrown down the gauntlet. Will traditional food journalists pick it up?

Today was supposed to be sunny and temperate. Instead, it was overcast and chilly. A and I took a drive to Marin all the same. Muir Woods was packed, so we went on a mini-hike at Muir Beach.

The beach is dotted by different colored smooth stones that wash up on the beach with the tide.

The beach is surrounded by green hills. There were some flowers out here and there, but I imagine spring will bring more wildflowers.

A hiking trail snaking up a hill.

A holds our lunch in an inside out Whole Foods bag. It was a bit too windy for a picnic lunch, so we ate in the car and watched the ocean from afar.