I started down the path to try to calculate how many pounds of food I ate this year, but I came to my senses before I let this post-Christmas depression consume me. It’d probably be easier to calculate how many pounds I gained during my first year as a professional eater, but I won’t do that either. I signed up for the Y, bought a swim cap, and I’m going to start doing laps. New Year, new me, etc. But that’s all to say I ate a lot of great food this year. I’m kind of burnt out on lists but here are a few of my favorite food memories from 2025.
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CRAYFISH ON SOFT WHITE BUNS
I began the year in Australia, eating crayfish on soft white buns with lots of wasabi Kewpie mayo. Crayfish in Australia are not the same as our crayfish, they’re basically lobsters without claws. My wife’s brother dives and catches them and in the week between Christmas and New Years Eve (they call it Gooch Week), when we eat leftover ham and crayfish to our hearts desire. You’d think it would, but it never gets old. On my way back from Australia I stopped in Frankfurt (I love a fucked up overnight layover), where I spent a cold and lonely night wearing a scarf and eating fried cutlets and drinking apple wine. When I woke up, snow was falling, it was beautiful. Soft white feathery snow at sunrise, the kind of thing that feels heaven-sent. Stick out your tongue, and let a snowflake melt. I wanted to remember the moment. I took out my phone, and as I snapped a photo, some drunk fucking huge guy came and punched me right in the fucking face. As I tried to explain that I wasn’t taking a photo of him, that I was trying to capture the beautiful snow, he went and socked me again, right in the kisser. Honestly fuck Frankfurt and fuck their Apfelwein. But I do enjoy a German cake.
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RICE ROLLS
2025 was the year of rice rolls, for me at least. Maybe every year is a year of rice rolls for me, but this year I became addicted to West Rice Roll King. Of course there’s Yi Ji Shi Mo, and Joe’s, the rice roll cart, and Yin Ji, but for me at least, West Rice Roll King blows them all out of the water. Their rolls are so thin, chewy, and slippery—such a remarkable texture, they feel impossible, and eating them feels like a miracle every time. 2025 was also the year of “The Bradshaw,” aka the Dimes Square Double, a sandwich I invented. Buy a scallion roll from Elbow Bread, and add some jerky from Ling Kee Beef Jerky, and prepare to have your mind blown.
I also went to Japan this year, but so did everyone else. (DM me for my list).
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SMOKED MEATS
Summer to me means Solinksy’s. It’s well worth the three plus hour drive from New York City to a little town called Stamford in the Catskills (stop by Alison’s Roman’s First Bloom while you’re up there). Solinsky’s is a butcher shop that makes their own charcuterie and smoked meats. It’s rooted in European tradition: Polish, German, Italian, French, etc., but it’s filtered through a lens of American barbecue: Southern, Midwest, Upstate, backyard. Everything tastes like home and vacation simultaneously:a summer in Emilia Romana eating mortadella by the kilo, a leftover Christmas ham sandwich eaten on a beach in Australia, a hot dog at the Sox game (white not red), pâtein the Loire, a brat fresh off the grill lakeside in Wisconsin. They do smoked hot dogs, cheddar brats, long skinny kabanosy, decadent pâte, and my favorite baguettes that sell out every weekend. If you’re lucky they’ll have brisket so fresh it melts. Solinsky encapsulates all of life’s fun moments into a natural casing with the most satisfying snap and smoky depth. It’s the perfect food for sharing with friends, to eat with wine, to carry in a tote bag on a muddy hike up a mountain. On top of the mountain there’s a lake. You take a canoe to a little pontoon. You swim in the glacial water, you eat your meat sticks with wet hands, you bask in the sun, a warm towel on your shoulders. Life can be great, and it will be.
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LAMB BROTH
I went to Uzbekistan in September, for the Bukhara Biennial (it’s a long story that I will finish writing soon I promise). I was jet-lagged and had food poisoning for most of the five days that I was there, but still managed to eat some amazing food. Lots of plov, of course, and at the market in Bukhara I ate a samsa stuffed with chicken and tarragon. Fresh out of the oven, I took a bite and burnt my tongue, and went back for another bite and burnt my tongue again. I didn’t care. I loved it. But the meal I remember most, I ate alone in my hotel room. Down bad, I thought I might die, and then a soup saved my life. Lamb broth with lamb meatballs, carrots, potatoes and noodles, with lots of parsley and dill. It was served in an old jar, and I ate it on my bed with a little coffee spoon. It brought me back from the brink. Without that soup, I could not have made it to the opening of the Biennial. Sometimes soup is magic.
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SCALLOP TOAST
I ate so many meals this year that I didn’t write about. Two of my favorites that deserve some shine were at Mon Lapin in Montreal, and Baodega, a Sichuanese supper club in Bed-Stuy. We really did it up at Mon Lapin, it was technically my “bachelor party” and it’s honestly a bit of a blur. We were there for over five hours, I don’t even know how many courses we ate. We drank some of the best wine I’ve ever had. We could barely walk when we left, and we almost fell asleep at the strip club. I can’t stop thinking about their scallop toast. Shout-out to our server Fiona, who, on top of the food and the drinks, made it such a special night.
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CHINESE FOOD FROM SCRATCH
Charlene Luo of The Baodega is making some of the best Chinese food in America out of her apartment in Bed-Stuy. Everything is made from scratch. In the summer, most of the produce is grown on her roof, and she’s smuggling peppercorns and other rare ingredients in her suitcase all the way from China. The food is traditional, and radical, and unlike anything being made in any restaurant that I’ve ever been to. And it makes it even more special that she’s serving it to you in her home.
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MINI FRENCH DIP
I got married this year at Jean’s in Lafayette. They honestly killed it, I really have to hand it to them. This is not me doing them a favor, and I’m not just looking through rose-tinted glasses because it was the best night of my life (it was). The food was perfect. The oysters were nice and fresh, even on a Sunday, and every table’s steak was spot on, medium rare (I checked). It’s so nice to just let go and give the people what they want. The people want fries, they want spaghetti, and they want caesar salads. They didn’t know they wanted mini french dips, but they do! The people want Jean’s. This is food for a good time, done really well. This is food what both my parents from Chicago, and my wife’s parents from Australia will love. This is food for the girlies. Food to pair with a martini. Food that let’s you dance after. Food that I’ll look forward to eating every October 19th, and some random Thursdays in between. Long live Jean’s.
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