Amie Dahnke: Food Critic

So I now understand why food critics get fat. I mean, sure, anyone who critiques food for his or her profession is bound to be curvy regardless of how much he or she works out; it's just part of the profession. Frank Bruni, the writer and food critic who I admire most (He used to be the restaurant reviewer for the New York Times, was a guest judge on the Food Network's Iron Chef America, wrote a memoir that helped me acknowledge that I'm not insane for wanting to be a food critic despite my history, and is now a writer for T Magazine, producing lofty and wonderfully-structured profiles that are worth more than any photograph...but I digress in admiration), always struggled with his weight and Jeffrey Steingarten, most familiar to Food Network viewers as the robust white-haired judge on Iron Chef America (Can you tell which cable channel I miss the most?) used to be a svelte, fit man.

But now he's kind of big.

And this morning, my size two Gap jeans are fitting a little bit tighter (You could call me, as my sister and I so immaturely coined when I was in high school, a jumbo shrimp: A woman who is wearing clothes that are way too tight for her and is thus bulging out. Jumbo = woman; shrimp = clothes) than they did last night thanks to a seven course meal I had at Santa Fe Taqueria last night.

I sampled two burritos, three tacos and more chips, salsa and guacamole than really one person should probably handle. I tasted beef, pork, chicken and fish. I ate cheese and sour cream (No, my body is not  happy today). I lushed on a margarita (After a glass of wine from Umpqua Bank ala Elephant's Deli) and lots of water (I'm thinking that water is the key to preventing me from eating too much).

I was surprised I could waddle the 1 1/2 blocks home. I mean, it's not like I ate both burritos and all the tacos (Okay, okay, I ate all of the fish and carnitas tacos. I can't help it; I love me some grilled fish and spicy pulled pork); but I definitely ate more than I usually do in one sitting.

Perhaps, as of late (ahem; since I became impoverished in November), last night's meal was one of the largest I've had (Save Thanksgiving and my three days home during Christmas when I gained three pounds in 72 hours). And it was so good.

And I got to write about it...which is the best part about a dining experience for me. I simply love being able to express how food tastes and smells and what the atmosphere of a place is like. In our society, dining out has such a bad rap: It's either too high of a financial burden or too much of a health cost.

I say 'patooey' to that. People; dining out is such a joy. As humans, we're pretty unique in the animal kingdom because eating is actually a social activity. It's not often in the wild you'll find animals digging in together unless, perhaps you run across a venue of vultures (There's a fun fact of the day. Another one: A group of vultures circling around in the air is called a kettle. Don't say you never learned a thing from reading my blog) ripping apart an innocent carcass. For humans, dining is a sensory experience that brings out memories and emotions that simply have to be shared with other people.

Why? Because sharing a bite of anything bridges gaps between strangers and makes connections. It's the first step in kinship, friendship and relationships.

And that's why I like dining out and why I like writing about food...which apparently, I can do rather well. I just got an email from the Santa Fe Taqueria's GM inviting me to chit chat with her.

Sweeeeeeeeeet.