In Memoriam: Jonathan Gold

Jonathan Gold peering into a food truck as a woman takes his order

Last weekend, the food world was stunned and saddened to lose its most influential writer.

What I think is more important to understand, though, is that the world at large lost one of its kindest, gentlest, and most authentic souls.

Jonathan Gold was a Pulitzer Prize-winning food critic. In other words, a rarity. And from what I know of Jonathan, that’s an apt description of him as a human and not just a writer.

Jonathan’s writing was anything but common. He had a manner of stringing thoughts and words one after the other as if they were recklessly racing along, conveyed in a way that made you wonder where the heck they were headed. Sort of like when you hear the squealing of tires and instinctively turn and catch a glimpse of a convertible racing away, impatient to chase after whatever the next moment brings. Both scenarios make it impossible to not want to follow.

Though his manner of writing was uncommon, the places he chose to write about were not. He haunted food trucks and mom and pop places. Affordable places. Real places. Places that had a story to tell. A story that wasn’t manufactured by a PR team. That no one else would bother to tell. But he was a storyteller. And he wrote so convincingly, people not only heard what he had to say, they heeded it. Countless kitchens are in existence simply because he wrote so compellingly about them. “You want these guys to succeed,” he says at one point in the IFC documentary City of Gold in reference to the numerous unknown food destinations in the LA area that embrace the cooking of a different culture but fall in the shadow of the city’s more glam menus. “The thing that people find hard to understand is the huge number of cultures that live in this city who come together in this beautiful and haphazard fashion. We are all citizens of the world. Strangers together.”

I can’t fathom selecting just a single article or two of his to share with you as an example. Google him. And then watch the documentary.

I didn’t know Jonathan well beyond his writing. Although I can tell you that I almost lost my position as an editor at a glossy magazine because he was more than a little tardy on deadline for an article I’d convinced him to write. And I can tell you if I had been let go, it would have been worth it. What finally prompted him to turn in his copy was when I explained that if he dallied any longer the copy editors may have to stay late to work on his essay. He seemed to care about that sort of thing.

That’s the kind of guy he was.

I can tell you that one week when he was visiting Manhattan and had his meals choreographed as tightly and creatively as a Baryshnikov ballet, he delayed his dinner reservation at the then hippest and trendiest table in the Meatpacking District because I was on deadline and couldn’t slip away long enough for a proper dinner. Instead of dining in opulence with friends, he sat with me in a cheap vinyl booth at a dive bar in boring midtown across the street from my office and we drank. We drank hard. Rather than regale me with tales of his celebrity life, he told stories about ordinary things and asked about my life and laughed each chance he got. And he made certain I did, too. Never during any interaction with the man did I witness him display an ego. As The Economist wrote, “Jonathan Gold’s mobile phone had few selfies, but plenty of pictures of tacos.”

That’s the kind of guy he was.

I can tell you that even though he disliked eggs, he dedicated a lifetime to perfecting his technique for coaxing eggs sunnyside up to the status of yolks “limpid and bright yellow” and whites “perfectly set” because that’s the way the woman he loved preferred them.

That’s the kind of guy he was.

Despite the fiasco of that initial writing assignment that ended with me flirting with unemployment, I asked him to write again for Martha Stewart Living and again for Leite’s Culinaria. I may have even occasionally nudged him for cooking advice. Because how could I not? It was his words, in part, that drew me in. But for the most part it was his way of seeing the world. His way of being.

He took a different approach to most everything than any other writer. In that essay he wrote about eggs, he mused about dozens of incarnations and held them all to be equal. The lofty and the low-key. The sophisticated and the simple. That’s what I think Jonathan was trying to share with us. He saw and experienced life in all its shades of technicolor. And he wanted others to experience that, too.

May his writing continue to scintillate us. May his life continue to inspire us.

Comments

  1. I’ll be honest and admit I’ve not read anything he wrote – but will do so now. What a heartfelt tribute! It makes you curious about the man and I shall enjoy satisfying that curiousity.

  2. Lovely words, touching article. I did not know of this person but I quickly googled and found this article. So Sad when someone passes so young, quickly of such a dreadful disease. I will try to find this documentary “City of Gold” to watch. Such dedication and how he helped others (the restaurants that were struggling) should always be remembered.

    1. Thank you for taking the time to comment, Randi K. It is incredibly sad. And as you say, hopefully there are those who will take his example as inspiration. I hope you enjoy learning more about him, he was such a gentle soul, example for all of us in many ways.

  3. the view of the world, the lens which they lend us, that is how they stay alive. keep seeing the world thru thier lens, and you can keep great kind souls with you. thank you for such a beautiful rememberance.

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