Turning the Tables on Traditional Food Criticism
When a major newspaper unveils a new food critic, expectations often center on refined palates, exclusive reservations, and high-end tasting menus. But The Washington Post’s new critic, Elazar Sontag, is rewriting that script with a surprisingly democratic approach. His debut lunch—held not at a trendy bistro but in a chapel-turned-cafeteria tucked behind a parking lot near Mount Vernon Square—signals a deliberate shift: food journalism that meets readers where they eat, where they live, and where communities convene.
Sontag’s ethos is clear even before the first bite. He isn’t chasing the most coveted reservation or the rarefied dining room. Instead, he leans into accessibility, transparency, and the honest flavors that emerge when a kitchen serves the surrounding neighborhood meals. This stance is not about forsaking refinement but about broadening the lens through which we judge good food: technique, context, and value, all balanced in equal measure.
From Secret Tables to Everyday Tables
The location itself—a church cafeteria behind a parking lot near Mt. Vernon Square—reflects a deliberate choice. It’s a space that hosts the community’s daily rituals: shared plates, conversation, and the kind of unglamorous charm that often gets lost in glossy profiles. In this setting, Sontag treats each dish with attentive curiosity, asking not just who pays for the meal, but why it matters to the people who eat it. This shift toward “everyday dining” invites readers to reexamine what makes food great: It can be comforting, affordable, and culturally resonant, all at once.
A Critic with a Listen-First Approach
Newsrooms are increasingly asking critics to be more accountable to readers, and Sontag appears to answer with a listening posture. He seeks out voices from the kitchen—line cooks, prep chefs, dishwashers, and servers—whose labor shapes the final product as much as the chef’s technique. By foregrounding those perspectives, he humanizes the dining experience, reminding us that a good meal is often the product of collaboration, not solitary genius.
This approach doesn’t negate rigor. Sontag still interrogates flavors, textures, and seasonality, but he does so in a way that welcomes novice food lovers. He explains why a simple cafeteria curry can shine with balance, or why a budget-friendly sandwich embodies a cultural memory that more pricey options might overlook. The reader gains practical wisdom—how to identify freshness, how to read a menu for value, and how to appreciate a dish’s narrative arc—without feeling out of place at a neighborhood lunch spot.
What This Means for Food Journalism
By choosing a setting like the Mt. Vernon Square cafeteria, Sontag signals a broader trend in food journalism: the move toward inclusion and accessibility. Critics once guarded their authority behind elite terminology and exclusive reservations. Now they are more likely to meet readers in the spaces where they dine, discuss, and dream about meals that matter to daily life. This is not a rejection of high gastronomy but a reinforcement that good food can—and should—exist beyond the glass-walled dining room.
As readers follow Sontag’s forthcoming reviews, they can expect a blend of bite-sized observations and deeper explorations of food culture, community impact, and economic realities. The goal is clear: to provide guidance that is both meaningful and reachable, helping people discover flavors, stories, and cooks they may have overlooked.
Looking Ahead
Elazar Sontag’s early moves suggest a thoughtful, inclusive path forward for The Washington Post’s food journalism. By equipping readers with practical insights and a sense of culinary curiosity that extends beyond the restaurant scene, he invites a wider audience to engage with food critically—and joyfully.
