I'm positively enraptured to announce that as of this issue, I am SF Weekly's new arts & culture editor (and food critic). If you read the paper often enough, you might recognize my name (as I've been a regular contributor for two-and-a-half years). I've also freelanced for a bunch of places around the Bay Area and elsewhere.
To put it mildly, I'm incredibly excited about this opportunity and I've got lots of ideas. By way of background, I've lived in San Francisco for seven years, been an ice cream maker at Humphry Slocombe, and used to be a bartender for Bi-Rite Market's catering department (along with a two-season stint behind the bar at the American Conservatory Theater). Once upon a time, I was a barista at a genuinely sad and now-defunct cafe in the Mission, the name of which no mere mortal will ever pry from me. I also pickle.
I'm an omnivore and a gourmand, I tend to gravitate to the most avant-garde thing on any given menu, and I love schlepping to out-of-the-way places. Full disclosure: I'm not the biggest fan of cantaloupe, bananas, or Hefeweizen, but it's mayonnaise (along with all its derivatives) that really grosses me out. With all apologies to partisans of the ovo-oleaginous condiment, I just want to be candid about my lone visceral loathing as I set about this endeavor.
So please bear with me as I get acclimated to working in a proper office for the first time since 2008, but I look forward to eating obscene quantities across the most food-obsessed city in the country and, with a team of awesome writers, telling you all about it.
All the best, and to hell with the Body Mass Index.
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