“But time makes you bolder, children get older, and I’m getting older, too…”

When I turned 1 year old, the US was bombing the shit out of Hanoi, the Goodyear Blimp was flying for the first time, a gallon of gas cost 55¢, Bobby Fischer became the World Chess Champion and The Godfather was taking it to the mattresses. Today, I get to celebrate another first year, but this time managing not to crap in my diapers or spit up on my grandmother—I make no promises about not sticking my hands in the cake, though. Gonzo Gastronomy is no longer the new kid, folks! Today, we turn one (for those who can’t read, see how many fingers I’m holding up)! 365 days gone by, 112 posts later, and nothing to show for it—I’m gushing with pride.

I began this blog because I had put down the proverbial pen for a really long time in order to pursue an actual…you know…JOB. But eventually, I was jonesing to put my thoughts on screen again and you, my friends, are the victims of that desire. I write not because I want to, but because I have to. It’s the one way I can truly give voice to my thoughts, for better or worse. When I started GonzoG last year, I honestly don’t think I gave a shit whether I had 2 readers or 200. I just wanted to write. The fact that you guys have stuck around is truly humbling. In case I forget later, thanks.

My introductory post was about a harbinger of change—a true iconoclast—Jimi Hendrix. Jimi’s Woodstock performance was the classic example of getting others to shut their mouths and hone their ears, and that was something I admired and tried to emulate: “It’s never comfortable or free of conflict, and it’s certainly not always forward motion, but that’s the organic nature of change. I return repeatedly to music because it follows the same creative process of cooking and making wine—it’s the opening of an artist’s vein. Food and wine has its own set of mavericks, heretics, pioneers and renegades—and for better or worse, this is their sandbox.”

I’d like to think that I’ve done an OK job of calling out mavericks, heretics, pioneers and renegades in food & wine, though sometimes it was to laud them and other times it was to publically stone them. I’ve called out Korbel for bad PR damage control, sung the praises of boutique distributors like Garagiste, lashed out at the Italian olive oil industry, railed against vodka, waxed eloquent about fruitcake, and even compared a Belgian ale to the overrated experience known as losing my virginity. Sometimes, I got really pumped about a post that went absolutely nowhere, and other times posts that were essentially written without forethought were the ones that garnered the most attention and response. Shows you what I know.

I’d also like to think that I’m living up to the “Gonzo” in Gonzo Gastronomy—providing journalism that is truthful without striving for objectivity. If I speak from a place of passion, I speak truthfully. To me, that’s all that matters.  Call it subjective, call it opinionated, call it profane. I don’t really care, as long as you’re calling it something, because that means I’ve made you pay attention—made you hone your ears. Not everyone likes my sandbox, but that’s cool. They can stay in their kiddie-seat swings, safe from the danger of a skinned knee and a bruised ego.

Thanks for listening while I rant and rave about the angels and demons of food and wine. The fact that you all still humor me is really cool, and I look forward to another year of quoting songs, pointing fingers, confessing character flaws, and writing about eating and drinking my way through life under the very dangerous assumption that someone out there gives a shit what I have to say. If you’ll excuse me now, I’m going to go pop a bottle of really good Champagne and hopefully grab a fistful or two of chocolate cake. Sorry I didn’t invite you, but I’m always worried about strangers rummaging through my drawers, critiquing my dusting skills and stealing my crappy flatware. Don’t worry, though. I’m bound to write about it anyway.

Tagged as: food/wine blogging