The Altar
Foodaism
The Altar
None of us cooks alone, even when we are alone. These are some of the people who’ve inspired me in the kitchen, whose presence is never very far when I cook or eat. Some of them I knew and loved, some I just read or watched. I always thought if I had a restaurant I’d have a shelf for their photos and books, the kind of altars that many cultures — Chinese, Vietnamese, Hindu — have to honor the kitchen gods, give thanks and keep the ancestors happy.
In these homes, a kitchen altar might feature a photo of a loved one, a candle, a food offering. I don’t have a shelf built in to our kitchen where we honor the people whose love of food inspired us. But, hey, I’ve got a web site.
If there’s someone you want me to post on the altar, please send me an email with a photo and a few words about the person who watches over you in the kitchen.
Jonathan Gold (1960-2018)
Jonathan Gold taught us all how to talk about restaurants. The best restaurant critic of his generation, and no one, since his death, has surpassed him. A kind, giving man was well. When I first came across his writing, long before the Pulitzer Prize, I immediately sensed the way he wrote the story not just of food but of L.A. — and I columnized on it. Many years later, when Jonathan Gold came to speak to my course on Food and Media at USC — a major schlep, a major favor — he left the students, and their teacher, astounded by his impromptu description of a meal at Noma in Japan. Read his works, and listen to an on-stage discussion we had in 2017.
Love food, culture, and stories that feed the soul?
Join the Foodaism Weekly Newsletter — a thoughtful digest of essays, recipes, and food writing that goes deeper than the plate.
Get exclusive content you won’t find on the blog, delivered fresh every week.
Subscribe Now on Substack — it’s free, easy, and always nourishing.
Don’t just eat. Understand.
Aaron Eshman (1927-2024)
I have a picture of my dad, Aaron Eshman, above my desk. He’s smiling. That’s the image I keep in my mind in the kitchen. He loved food. Restaurants. Every. Single. Meal. It was contagious. When he died last March at age 96, I knew I’d never have had as enthusiastic and hungry an eater at my table. But in many ways, I still cook for him.
The Weekly Dish: Food. Memory. Culture. Delivered.
Get the Foodaism Newsletter every Friday — personal essays, cultural critiques, and food writing that feeds your head and your heart.
Anthony Bourdain (1956-2018)
I hear his voice in the kitchen, too. Anthony Bourdain was the best food writer of this century. When he disappeared from our TV screens, so did great food TV. There are pleasant hosts, informative hosts, high-rating, engaging hosts, but besides Bourdain, they are all “okay”. He cared about the writing as much as the food, revered chefs, skewered pretension and hypocrisy (including his own), and never broke his first rule of food writing: Don’t Be Boring.
And he evolved. The surly prick of Kitchen Confidential turns reflective and forgiving in Medium Raw. His filmed travel essays went deeper. He seemed like less of a douche the more famous he got — the reverse of what we expect, no?
Now I pass a mural portrait of Anthony Bourdain on Wilshire Blvd. and feel like he’s protective, disapproving, and encouraging in one look. Up he goes on the altar.
What we eat is who we are.
The Foodaism Weekly newsletter explores that idea through essays, memories, and meditations — one post at a time.
Subscribe now — free and deeply satisfying.
Julia Child (1912-2004)
I can hear the breathy, sing-songy voice of Julia Child as I cook. I watched her cooking shows from the time she first appeared on public television to the very end, when she could little more than stand and watch others cook. Beyond her skill and expert instruction, what she transmitted was unapologetic pleasure. The made the kitchen look like the best place to be, better even than a restaurant.
I met Julia Child once, in 2003, at a very long, dull charity event at the Beverly Hilton Hotel. She was already 90, in a wheelchair. I knelt beside her and told her what an inspiration her books and shows had been to me.
“What part of the business are you in?” she asked me.
“I’m not,” I said. “I just came to see you.”
She tilted her head back and smiled.
Words, like food, are meant to be savored.
Subscribe to Foodaism Weekly for poetic, personal, and thought-provoking food writing each week.Join here for a weekly taste of something meaningful.