I had really intended to begin this history of the past weekend in the airport terminal at O’Hare. I appreciate the narrative romanticism of someone sitting down to write a dispatch from this most liminal of spaces, using the ambiance of passersby and terminal intercom announcements to set the mood. Alas, as I settled down into my seat after waiting in the security line, I was too tired and hungover to do anything but nibble at my terrible burnt bagel, because these last three days were — as they say — a whole movie.
On Friday, four of the five Ravenous founder-owners boarded planes and trains for the Windy City (where one already lives), just in time for the James Beard Foundation’s annual awards. I have always thought it was a bit annoying and pretentious to call this annual celebration of chefs, journalists, and restaurants the “Oscars of food,” but I will begrudgingly admit that it really does feel like the center of the American culinary universe for this one weekend.