Brad Schmitt in 2011
As Nashville’s restaurant scene soars, the quality of food writing at the paper of record sinks.
Brad Schmitt has been a journalist for 30-plus years and has been churning out insipid listicles about the Nashville food scene for eight of them at The Tennessean. His inane observations are often groan-worthy, but this week he produced a particularly frustrating entry in his long career that really encapsulates what makes him such a lackluster scribe — which is impressive considering his résumé also includes snitching on public housing residents.
On Wednesday, The Tennessean published a roundup of the 25 top restaurants in Nashville, penned by Schmitt and food writer Mackensy Lunsford. The listicle is presented as a dialogue, but Schmitt contributes little substance to the conversation. His usual schtick about complaining about prices and gross fancy-person food continues throughout, as do his corny jokes (“holy moles!”) and vague descriptions. The latter can be forgiven given the shortness of the blurbs, but Lunsford is able to make the most of the real estate — even Schmitt pokes fun at this disparity.
But the low point comes when the list gets to recently opened Japanese comfort-food spot Kisser, one of the most anticipated restaurants in the country prior to its opening. Schmitt acts like venturing to the East Nashville eatery is going to another planet. He writes:
OK, so this may be a Japanese comfort restaurant, but the menu items likely will be unfamiliar to most folks. They certainly were to me. And I brought along another old curmudgeon reporter, Keith Sharon, who was equally mystified and a bit intimidated by words like "inari", "onigiri" and "chirashi."
Welp, surprise! We loved almost everything we ate, often without knowing what we were eating.
At best this is a confusing piece of writing from a man who is supposed to have eaten his way through most restaurants in Nashville; at worst, it’s xenophobic. It’s unclear why “Japanese” is italicized in the article, but given Schmitt’s frequent gripes about price and snobbery, it almost seems like he’s questioning Kisser’s comfort-food credentials just because it isn't American fare. Further, Kisser is certainly not the only restaurant to feature words from a different language on the menu — The Tennessean's list features Italian, Mexican and other Asian restaurants — making it less clear why this spot deserved to be treated as something alien. (“Mystified” is also a poor choice of words, considering Orientalist tropes about Asian mysticism.)
The highly anticipated restaurant will serve Japanese comfort food in East Nashville's Highland Yards
A generous reading could be that Schmitt simply wanted to say this comfort food wasn’t in his comfort zone (to employ the type of obvious wordplay he’d embrace). Even so, he still treats a new experience for him as some novelty, and in doing so treats home cooking from another country as some sort of gimmick. It’s not the type of writing that encourages readers to engage with new food or experiences. It’s simply bad writing, and highlights a simple truth: Schmitt is not a food critic.
The goal of a critic — whether offering opinions of food, music or film — isn't simply to tell people it's all right to stick to their comfort zone. It’s not even to tell people if a certain product is worth their money. A good critic should challenge and encourage people to expect more of themselves and what they consume, and to seek out new things. They engage with what they review. They add to conversations or create new ones.
Schmitt doesn't do any of that. When his words fail to describe the experience of his palate, he complains about the price; he tries to justify his limited palate (or limited vocabulary) as the mark of a proud everyman, but really he's lacking the creativity to make a more interesting point about the dish. Discussing the price is easier but far less informative than describing how flavors combine, or how cultures influence and blend to reimagine old dishes for new audiences. (Besides, it’s doubtful Schmitt is actually footing the bill while employed by Gannett.) Sometimes he tries to present himself as championing old affordable favorites, but that's a boring lane to pick as a writer.
Further, there’s evidence his working-class persona is more a brittle facade than insightful class consciousness. When he predicted he’d call down “hipster hell” for saying Lockeland Table was overrated, Lunsford pushed back, saying she had more tattoos than all the other customers combined, adding, “How many tattoo-free line cooks do you know?” He again invoked hipsters and tired neighborhood stereotypes when praising Pinky Ring Pizza for being located in Madison rather than East Nashville.
It’s an old routine. In last year’s listicle he wrote: “I feel unwelcome at Sean Brock restaurants (except for his wonderful East Nashville burger/shake shack, Joyland). ... The message seems to be, ‘You're pretty darn lucky you got a reservation,’ instead of, ‘We value you as a customer.’”
No doubt many people would have the same concerns going to a place like Brock's Audrey. But Lunsford’s curt response implies Schmitt is overreacting or being dishonest: “I did not have the same experience, but OK.”
Schmitt is no Anthony Bourdain. The late writer believed in the cultural importance of food and tried to tie together working-class holes-in-the-wall and fine dining into broader conversations. Schmitt doesn’t do that; there’s no real cultural insight when he tries to take a fancy restaurant down a peg or boosts a cash-only joint. He isn't telling you anything you couldn't learn from an online search.
Tennessean subscribers should stop paying for Schmitt’s glorified Yelp comments. Readers who actually enjoy his claptrap should seek out better writers who might also lead them to better restaurants and expand how they think about food. Everyone deserves an affordable meal — the Scene highlights great deals all the time. But people should also feel encouraged to try new things, especially as Nashville continues to grow and diversify.
There’s a lot of good food around town. A good critic should give you a road map, not a spreadsheet of dollar signs.
