"5 Questions with a Foodie" is our new column in which we chat with a local foodie. This time: Matt Sadler, local food lover and writer.
Matt Sadler, aka The Marinara (@theMarinara), is a local food lover and writer who has been finding his food adventures in Richmond and around the world for the past 12 years. You can find Matt's writings in Richmond Magazine, RVA News, and Whine Me Dine Me. A computer geek during the day, Matt spends his evenings teaching his 4-year-old son that the best food often comes in the most unlikely places.
How do you define the term, "foodie," and do you consider yourself one?
Am I a foodie? Hell, yes, I am. I don't understand all the negative connotations with the term. To me, it's pretty simple. A foodie is someone who takes a keen interest in food. They love it. They love how it is made. They love the person who cooks it. They love eating it with other people who share the passion. They love talking it about it. It's not some sick obsession or arrogance, it's just a curiosity.
Of course, there are the people who give the label a bad name but, the way I see it, if a person is a jerk in real life, they will be a jerk through their hobby.
If you could pick the best components of a few Richmond restaurants to create one super-fabulous restaurant, what would they be?
Can Can would be the setting. This place is so wide and open and clean. More important, it is alive and energetic. I would add in the service and personnel from Bistro 27. I'm not sure there is a friendlier waiter in town than Ron and a more interesting chef than Carlos. I would pick the menu from Mamma Zu. Simple, yet adventurous. I would then have Chef Paulo from Sensi actually do the preparation. He is a legend and has spent several decades in Richmond constantly producing some of the best dishes available.
How did you get into food and/or cooking?
I grew up in upstate New York and my mother's side of the family is Italian. Growing up, every holiday was centered around the meal. I have vivid memories of everyone bustling around the kitchen, with the women conducting the symphony and the men and children pitching in. I wanted to be a part of this event and, in order to do so, I had to be able to cook. I had my mom start me on my path of cooking illumination. The interest grew in college as I used my cooking as a way to bring people together. When I came to Richmond in the late ’90s, my burgeoning cooking method was a progression that continued.
If I were to ask your significant other or best friend what your worst "foodie" trait is, what would they say?
My wife often talks about how I complicate everything when it comes to a meal. We once had some friends over for dinner and she made me promise not to overdo it. So I think, "cheese-steaks and French fries." Nice and simple. So I hand-cut all the fries and properly double fry them. I buy Amorosa Bakery rolls for the sandwich. I have the steak sliced thinly (Japanese style) at Belmont Butchery. I search out Cheese Wiz. I buy the tall glass bottles of Coke. I stop short of buying the plastic diner baskets. That's me keeping it simple.
Describe your perfect meals for one full day.
One full day in what city/country? This is totally not fair. I could maybe do the perfect week. Alas, I will try to comply.
I would start my day in the Cinqueterra region of Italy. I would nibble on some freshly baked, oily, focaccia bread. I would sip on espresso. I would enjoy the bustling around me.
I then would head on up to the North Shore of Boston for my double dip lunch. I eat a Super Beef sandwich at Nick's Famous Roast Beef in North Beverly. The buttery onion roll filled with rare roast beef and horseradish sauce is the perfect start. I then drive 15 minutes north to Essex where I split a pint of fried full-bellied clams at Woodmans of Essex. I take this in with a Sam Adams Seasonal.
Happy Hour is in Astoria, N.Y. The Bohemian Hall Beer Garden is full of people sitting at picnic tables, drinking large quantities of German brews, watching the games and listening to some local bands. I would probably find a way to split a brat with my sister, because one should always try the brats.
Dinner would be in Montgomery, Alabama, at the home of Wanda Fox. My daily denouement would end with plates of pan-fried chicken, whipped potatoes, salty gravy, buttery black-eyed peas, cheesy broccoli, accompanied by the sweetest tea known to man.
If, by some means, that meal has worn off in the late hours of the night (or wee hours of the morning), I might head over to Rochester, N.Y. for the white-hot garbage plate at Nick Tahoe's.
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