[ Posted Tuesday, October 8, 2002 ]

So What Do You Do, Ruth Reichl?
The people in your media neighborhood.

BY ALBERT LEE | As restaurant critic, Reichl liberated The New York Times from the Gallic grip of her predecessor, Bryan Miller, who fairly choked when she granted coveted three-star ratings to places like Japanese noodle shrine Honmura An. "SHE HAS DESTROYED THE [STAR] SYSTEM," he raged in a memo to her boss. But Reichl, the author of two affecting memoirs, won many fans for her multicultural approach as well as her distinctive, first-person style of food writing, both of which she brought with her to Gourmet magazine, where she was appointed editor in 1999.

DOB: January 16, 1948

Occupation: Editor-in-chief, Gourmet

A brief history: Restaurant critic at The New York Times (1993-1999), restaurant critic at The Los Angeles Times (1984-1993), food editor at The Los Angeles Times (1990-1993), restaurant critic at New West and California magazines (1977-1993), and chef and co-owner of The Swallow restaurant in Berkeley, California (1974-1977).

Hometown: Greenwich Village. I know that this is normally considered a part of New York City, but when I was growing up, the Village really was one. P.S. 41, where I went to elementary school, was the oldest school building in the city, a pre–Civil War edifice so small that the principal knew every kid personally. Two of my teachers lived in my building, and I knew every shopkeeper by name.

First real job: Waitress at La Seine, an extremely posh restaurant in Ann Arbor, Michigan, where I went to college. It was a great job; I learned a lot about food and made an absurd amount of money. The minimum wage at that time was $1 an hour and I'd usually take home about $30 for a four-hour shift.

Heroes: The civil rights workers of the early '60s, black and white, who finally had the courage to stand up to racism.

Favorite books: The Gastronomical Me (MFK Fisher); Pumpkins (a children's book I used to read to my son); The Little Disturbances of Man (Grace Paley), whatever I happen to be reading right now (at the moment it's The Death of Vishnu by Manil Suri).

What I ate for lunch today: Takeout from Grand Sichuan (I am addicted to their chile peppers in black bean sauce, pure fire, which I order about once a week. I also like their sauteed loofah and the tendon in hot oil. I should add that I don't expect you to like any of these dishes, and my friends tend to favor things like pork buns and spicy dumplings.)

I'll always read a story by: Jane Kramer, Ann Patchett, Paul Krugman, John Lahr.

About all that hot sauce on her desk: Okay, guilty: I've got dozens of bottles stacked behind my desk. And not just because they're pretty.
• Mad Cat ("Not for Pussycats.")
• Pimenta Malagueta (a friend brought it back from Brazil)
• Frank's original red hot cayenne sauce (a friend brought it from Jamaica)
• Smoky Chipotle Barbecue Sauce
• Chile Today, Hot Tamale
• Walker's Wood Jamaican Jerk Sauce (Hot & Spicy)
• Baronhall Farms Jamaica, Hell Hot Pepper Concentrate
• Island Blaze Habanero Super Hot Sauce
• Backyard Dirt Farmers Habanero (Dried, Ground Chile)
• My current favorite is habanero pepper flakes, which were given to me by David Karp, our fruit detective.

Favorite dishes to cook at home: Blueberry pie, apricot pie, spaghetti alla carbonara, chicken soup, potatoes of any kind (I'm a starch freak).

Guilty pleasure: Onion rings. I like even bad ones so much that Felix, the wonderful grill guy at the Condé Nast cafeteria, always hands me a couple when I walk through the line. As for a great onion ring? I'd drive hundreds of miles to get one.

Food she hates: Honey! Just the thought of it makes me gag.

Favorite "no-star" restaurants:
• The Lulling Barbecue place, in Texas, where you buy smoked brisket by the pound and they give you white bread for free to put it on. The meat is so rich and soft it has the texture of Jell-O by the time you put it in your mouth, and it's almost impossible to stop eating.
• Yuca's taco hut on Hillhurst in Los Angeles, a little shack in a parking lot that makes the most wonderful bean-and-cheese burritos and cochinita pibil tacos. I never go to L.A. without stopping in.
• Fried Dumpling on Allen Street in New York, where the pork dumplings are five for a dollar. I buy them by the bag and take them home for the freezer. They're juicy, garlicky, and great.
• El Rey de las Fritas in Miami, on Calle Ocho. Absolutely addictive little meat patties with hot sauce and matchstick potatoes right inside the bun.
• Cho Dang Gol, on 35th Street in New York, where they make their own tofu.

I could keep going, but I think I'll stop now.

Smartest thing I ever did for my career: Tell The New York Times I didn't want to be their restaurant critic — which I didn't. That only made them want me more. I must have been the only person in America who didn't want the job. But the truth is, I had no idea what I was turning down. Taking the job completely changed my life.

Best moment on assignment: Having a meal at Francis Ford Coppola's winery — big slabs of foie gras, huge steaks, potatoes cooked in goose fat washed down with ancient wines — and singing show tunes with him for raucous hours. "Give me a show, any show," he'd say, "There isn't one I can't sing a song from." Sometime around 1 a.m., he told me that I had a wonderful voice. If you had ever heard me sing, you'd know how thrilling this was.

Worst moment on assignment: Having Francis Ford Coppola not remember me (or my fabulous voice) the next time I interviewed him at the Chez Panisse 30th Anniversary event in Berkeley, summer 2001.

Nuttiest Times-critic restaurant memory: Having Julia Child come into a very fancy restaurant when I was in disguise and peer across the room at me. [Reichl wore disguises as a Times critic to avoid being recognized by the restaurateurs.] After a moment of laser-like scrutiny she said, in that unmistakable voice, in tones that went ringing through the restaurant: "There's Ruth Reichl in a wig!" (The wigs, incidentally, were auctioned off for charity after I left the Times.)

Reichl once wrote that her mother was "the world's worst cook." How does her son Nick rate his mom's cooking: He's a fan (but then, I usually let him decide what's for dinner, so why wouldn't he be? I have yet to poison any of his friends, and I do a lot of baking.)

Three tips for ordering well in an unfamiliar restaurant:
1. Take a bite of butter. If it tastes like the refrigerator, leave.
2. Ask the waiter what they serve for staff dinner, then order the closest item on the menu. At least you know that you'll be ordering something that the cook likes.
3. Look for the "restaurant critic traps," the strange dishes that were put on the menu only because no critic could resist them. Every good restaurant has one; it might be foie gras doughnuts, oysters in tapioca, or jellied tripe. They're always great dishes, because only critics order them. As an added bonus, the restaurant will then think that you're a critic working on a review and make sure that your entire meal is spectacular.

Five obsessions in the life of Reichl:
1. Wearing old shoes. I've always loved shoes when they were really worn down, stretched out, and comfortable. Now I think I've earned the right to wear them.
2. Shanghai Tang silk jackets.
3. The Sopranos.
4. The announcer with the laconic voice on the 1 and 9 line on the [New York City] subway. This morning he said, "Times Square, Crossroads of the World. Transfer here for everything," and the entire car burst out laughing. He makes my day.
5. Trying to tame my curly hair enough to stop straightening it for corporate meetings.

So What Do You Do? appears on Tuesdays.