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Save the San Diego Reader, Day Four
Ian Anderson: from food reader to food writer
As our fundraiser hits Day Four, a word from Reader food writer Ian Anderson.
When I first picked up the San Diego Reader, I couldn't see past Ocean Beach. What do you mean there’s a whole city east of the 5? But somewhere between chasing waves and crushing Tecate cans on the beach, I found this free alt-weekly about as thick as a paperback book, and read a mad story about a guy being dragged into misadventure by his neighbor.
Fair to say the Reader has dragged me into misadventure in the decades since. For a while, I was a regular reader, tapping it for tips on local music and shaking my fist at the food critic when I disagreed with her. But I was a young literary romantic, and a member of Generation X, which is to say my dreams were intense but modest. Being a columnist for an alt-weekly fit snug as a pair of cargo pants.
I know, what was I thinking?
At the time, I thought I wanted to be on the music beat. So when I saw that the Reader offered 50 bucks for reader-submitted concert reviews, I wrote 400 words about a show at the Belly Up. And it was rejected. Glad to know they had standards.
But here's the great thing. Music editor Robert Nutting took the time to tell me what I could do better. I took his notes and tried again. Eventually, the paper published a story of mine about an indie band rocking out in shorts. I cannot overstate the value of such content in the pre-algorithm age.
In those days, the Reader gave its readers other chances to publish as well, so I started submitting neighborhood news stories ranging from dog park disputes to daytime meth house raids. When they realized I wasn't going to stop writing them, the Reader's editors relented and gave me that column I had so longed for, assigning me to write Feast! food reviews.
The fists were shaking in my direction now, but it wasn't just an opportunity to put my skewed opinions on display. On behalf of the Reader, I've managed to peer into every corner of San Diego's food and beverage world. I've learned about food from its chefs, beer from its brewers, coffee from its roasters, local produce from its farmers, etc.
And as a devoted reader myself, I've done my best to turn around and share everything I've learned with the Reader's audience, if occasionally in an off-kilter way. Because what makes this publication unique is willingness to deliver stories that don't always follow the usual formulas, with room to sink into quirky details, celebrate the unglamorous, and shine light on the unseen. And be free to get nerdy sometimes.
The Reader has grown my world. And it's likewise grown San Diego's world by giving platform to its many voices, whether provocative, encouraging, or commiserate. Mostly with good grammar, and hopefully with a little flair. And in a time when genuine human voices are being drowned out by a lot of noise, that's something to cherish.
Thanks for reading along with me, San Diego. If you haven’t done so already, please consider contributing to help us keep going.
Here's something you might be interested in.
Save the San Diego Reader, Day Four
Ian Anderson: from food reader to food writer
Save the San Diego Reader, Day Four
Ian Anderson: from food reader to food writer
As our fundraiser hits Day Four, a word from Reader food writer Ian Anderson.
When I first picked up the San Diego Reader, I couldn't see past Ocean Beach. What do you mean there’s a whole city east of the 5? But somewhere between chasing waves and crushing Tecate cans on the beach, I found this free alt-weekly about as thick as a paperback book, and read a mad story about a guy being dragged into misadventure by his neighbor.
Fair to say the Reader has dragged me into misadventure in the decades since. For a while, I was a regular reader, tapping it for tips on local music and shaking my fist at the food critic when I disagreed with her. But I was a young literary romantic, and a member of Generation X, which is to say my dreams were intense but modest. Being a columnist for an alt-weekly fit snug as a pair of cargo pants.
I know, what was I thinking?
At the time, I thought I wanted to be on the music beat. So when I saw that the Reader offered 50 bucks for reader-submitted concert reviews, I wrote 400 words about a show at the Belly Up. And it was rejected. Glad to know they had standards.
But here's the great thing. Music editor Robert Nutting took the time to tell me what I could do better. I took his notes and tried again. Eventually, the paper published a story of mine about an indie band rocking out in shorts. I cannot overstate the value of such content in the pre-algorithm age.
In those days, the Reader gave its readers other chances to publish as well, so I started submitting neighborhood news stories ranging from dog park disputes to daytime meth house raids. When they realized I wasn't going to stop writing them, the Reader's editors relented and gave me that column I had so longed for, assigning me to write Feast! food reviews.
The fists were shaking in my direction now, but it wasn't just an opportunity to put my skewed opinions on display. On behalf of the Reader, I've managed to peer into every corner of San Diego's food and beverage world. I've learned about food from its chefs, beer from its brewers, coffee from its roasters, local produce from its farmers, etc.
And as a devoted reader myself, I've done my best to turn around and share everything I've learned with the Reader's audience, if occasionally in an off-kilter way. Because what makes this publication unique is willingness to deliver stories that don't always follow the usual formulas, with room to sink into quirky details, celebrate the unglamorous, and shine light on the unseen. And be free to get nerdy sometimes.
The Reader has grown my world. And it's likewise grown San Diego's world by giving platform to its many voices, whether provocative, encouraging, or commiserate. Mostly with good grammar, and hopefully with a little flair. And in a time when genuine human voices are being drowned out by a lot of noise, that's something to cherish.
Thanks for reading along with me, San Diego. If you haven’t done so already, please consider contributing to help us keep going.
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