So Long, Roadfood

The night before I wrote this post, I had a dream about Gourmet editor Ruth Reichl. We were hanging in my old apartment on West 93rd Street. We were drinking Rioja and eating shrimps in garlic sauce that I had made. We talked only of writing; food wasn?t even mentioned, except what we should eat. The thing that really bums me out is that I woke up before I could ask her about her skin-care regimen. Ruth Reichl has the most luminous skin I?ve ever seen.

A few weeks ago, many of us in publishing were shocked to hear that Gourmet magazine was folding. Gourmet?s publisher, Condé Nast, also folded three other magazines that week and continues to make redundant personnel at other magazines. Publishing as an industry for the last two years has been walking on eggshells, and I can?t help but feel deeply for those who have lost their jobs. My first magazine job was at Mademoiselle, also a Condé Nast publication and also one that was folded. Both Gourmet and Mlle were around for a long time (Gourmet for 68 years and Mlle for 66 years), and both featured a roster of incredible writers in their pages.

I have been a fan of Gourmet for a long time, but not for the reason you probably think. I rarely tackle the recipes, and restaurant reviews don?t interest me. I love the photography, and one column in particular holds me in its sway: Roadfood.

Roadfood is written by the wife-and-husband team of Jane and Michael Stern. The Sterns travel the country and go to places and eat things that I will only dream about. True, they are reviewing restaurants, but it?s so much more than that. They write about the towns they visit and the people they meet. It?s like an anthropology lesson mixed with a geography lesson with some tasty food thrown in for good measure.

Some of the delightful things the Sterns have written about over the years: crab cakes, chicken pot pies, hot dogs, barbecue, fried clams, ice cream and recently, horseshoe sandwiches, which are native to Springfield, Illinois, and include meat, cheese and fried potatoes on top of a piece of toast. Get the October issue. I?m not even coming close to doing it justice.

Roadfood made me dream of driving around the country and spending time in small towns, meeting people and eating stuff I?d never heard of that would probably scare me at first. I had resigned myself to living vicariously through the Sterns. Then I read the Roadfood column about Hodad?s in San Diego.


Hodad?s is a burger place in Ocean Beach. The OB is populated mostly by surfers, and Hodad?s motto is: No shirt, no shoes, no problem. (In case you were wondering, a hodad is a guy who pretends to be a surfer; a poser.) Normally, a burger joint by the beach wouldn?t excite me. But the Sterns? description of the place and the food, along with a beautiful photo of one of Hodad?s massive shakes?the best I?ve ever had?got my motor running. Dan and I try to get to San Diego a few times a year, and we put Hodad?s on the agenda soon after I read the article.


Something told me the Sterns would not lead me astray, and I was right. Hodad?s is immensely popular and could have turned into a craptastic enterprise where they make you feel lucky to be eating there. Each time I go, no matter how insane it is with people lined up out the door waiting for a table and the metal blaring, I am treated like a sentient, hungry individual. There is never a rush to turn the tables, and the food makes me happy to be alive. (When I took these photos, the servers even ducked down so they wouldn?t ruin the shots. That?s service, my friend!)


Food aside, I understand why the Sterns do what they do. It?s so satisfying to hang with a bunch of strangers who are united in their quest of a milkshake, a crab cake or a rack of ribs. It says we?re all in this together, so let?s break bread?and maybe hang ten (after our food is properly digested, of course). I?m happy to report there is a Roadfood Web site, so the Sterns are always only a few keystrokes away.



It is my fondest hope that all those who Condé Nast freed from cubicle bondage find peace and another fun gig soon. I know what I?d be planning if I were one of those now-redundant editors: a roadfood journey of biblical proportion.