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The Long Shadow of Jonathan Gold

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Ever since I started writing food reviews, I have been haunted by Jonathan Gold. I would be researching pho for a post, and come across one of his articles, "Cinnamon, anise and the funk of simmering beef, the soup's unmistakable signature, perfumed the air." Sometimes Jonathan Gold just makes me want to stick a fork in my head.

I used to play "Restaurant Roulette" on Ventura Boulevard, where I would just stop at random eateries. One day I decided to start at one end and eat my way down Ventura, restaurant by restaurant. A month into my project, Bob and Lindsay were discussing the fact that "the next street Jonathan Gold is going to eat his way down is in North Hollywood." What? Gold already did it? He ate his way down Pico when he was 20? No!
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Last night when the Society for Professional Journalism invited Gold to their mixer, the opportunity was just too good to pass up.

When we arrived at the event, the Redwood Bar and Grill's nautical interior made me feel like I was in the Krusty Crab. The weird little downtown bar was packed and they had a fantastic assortment of beers. We headed towards the back, where a tiny, packed room full of fans was was listening, rapt, to Gold's advice. There were only about 40 people crammed in there, so it was not as overwhelming as I had anticipated. Gold was fielding questions from the crowd, which were very hard to hear over the Journey cranking out of the bar. So if I misquote anything, blame it on Steve Perry.