I follow food writer Brian Freedman like a shadow. He’s like the silver surfer, and I’m like Galactus. Where he goes to eat in secret, I follow him with my camera days later, after the review has been written, to look at the food he’s described.
I’ve only seen Brian on a handful of occasions, company events, meetings, and once, in a prison where we ate nutraloaf. But I’ve eaten things he’s eaten, and I’m lucky enough that he’s exposed me to things on the menu that I wouldn’t have chosen myself. I’m like Brian’s food acolite, studying the trail of his words. I am not a fan of fish, but eating the salmon he recommended at Branzino, I suddenly understood what I’d been missing.
My two most recent times being Brian’s shadow I followed him to Porto and Stateside. The food at Stateside was elegant, like a ballet, and the food at Porto was like what a beloved grandmother might cook for you.
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