Amanda Hesser sits on a stage, her legs swinging in front of her, with two other food writers and three "celebrity chefs" downstairs at Tribeca restaurant Obeca Li. She’s appearing as a panelist in a forum on "Dishing with the Food Media," led by Mediabistro.com, an on- and offline community of media professionals.
As a coordinator introduces Hesser, her list of accomplishments trails on to an almost awkward length. A woman in the audience perks up: "Omigod. I looove her." She claps her hands to her chest and looks up, her eyes rolling back in mock ecstasy. Over the course of the next hour, a moderator asks the chefs and journalists such questions as what they expect from each other, and in which direction they see the field moving. Unable to stifle her inner reporter, Hesser has some questions of her own. "I’m wondering how much is your maximum [workload]," she asks the chefs, whose businesses are ever expanding. As they respond, she nods, looking back and forth, back and forth, following the volley.
After the event winds down, a swarm of young women surround Hesser, soliciting advice. She listens quietly, nodding, smiling encouragingly, offering gentle suggestions. In response to the observation that she has a lot of friends in the room, Hesser replies swiftly, with a grin and a giggle, "I’m glad you didn’t run into any of my enemies." Enemies? But what’s not to like about Amanda Hesser?
Apparently, some people have found plenty. She’s been criticized for copying Sex and the City — mostly because of the similarity in names between her "Mr. Latte" and SATC’s Mr. Big, but also because her column has a similar premise: a young woman penning an account of a budding love affair in New York. (She says she hadn’t heard of Mr. Big when she bestowed the nickname Mr. Latte on Friend.)
At first, Hesser says her column generated a "glut" of mail — equal parts good and bad. "Some people didn’t like the writing," she explains. "Some people were like, ‘Why should I care about your life?’ " Wrote one Times reader last August: "What is it with Amanda Hesser’s food diary (July 15)? I understand that Sex and the City is the cultural paradigm right now, and that the thing to be is a youngish woman discussing her love life. It’s charming enough, I guess, on a TV show. In a Times food column, it’s irritating."
A column Hesser wrote about her frustration with her grandmother, who refused to eat in courses (by filling up on hotel breakfast and ruining her appetite for the three-course lunches) during a visit to Italy, struck many as mean-spirited. Even in her family, she notes, some were put off: "An aunt sent an e-mail to one of my sisters, saying, ‘I don’t know what to make of that.’ "
A New York media insider, who asks not to be identified, gripes about Hesser, voicing qualms ranging from matters of style ("Her columns are light, precious") to merit ("She’s been given more of a platform because she’s young; people just think she’s cute"), finally settling on the frivolous ("Those freaking barrettes. What’s up with the barrettes?!?!").
Hesser has even started to elicit responses beyond the island of Manhattan. Under the headline a tad few reasons why marrying amanda isn’t a good idea, a recent column in the Hartford Courant snippily offered her fiancŽ, Tad Friend, 10 reasons to decline the engagement. One example: "You’re tall, she’s short, but the only navel she gazes at is her own."
Hesser is remarkably unfazed by her critics, and she doesn’t bite back — ever. "This may sound sort of lame, but I actually mean it: I kind of feel like if people react, that’s a good sign," she says. "As tough as those letters are to read, as a writer it’s enormously helpful to go through them." As for the swirl among the media’s inner circle, she’s more curious about who’s talking trash than she is bothered by what they’re saying. "I’m less concerned about the local critics," she says primly.
And surely, the fast-flying negative quips need to be taken with a grain of salt — and as testament to Hesser’s ever-widening reach. A writer admits that jealousy is leading some to search for something, anything, to publicly criticize. "Amanda Hesser is successful, but she’s also good," the writer says. "That sort of makes it worse. She deserves it. She’s even nice. Twist the knife more! There’s nothing bad about her. Maybe people are waiting to see some horrible thing about her."
In person, it’s easy to see why Hesser elicits such powerful responses, both positive and negative. She doesn’t fit neatly into any prescribed roles. She gripes about foodie elitism, then gives her fiancŽ a moniker based on a foodie faux pas, bestowed after he offended her refined sensibilities by ordering the milky coffee beverage rather than the correct post-dinner coffee or espresso. She’s at once subtle and strong, doling out solid opinions with a low voice and soft smiles. "You have to tell the truth, or it’s not interesting," she says plainly.
Summing up her impressions of Hesser, the Globe’s Sheryl Julian recalls a day in the seminar on French culinary history when Hesser came bearing biscotti she’d made in her dorm-room toaster oven — three at a time — by following a Corby Kummer recipe from the Atlantic Monthly. "There were 20 people in the class, and she brought enough for everyone," says Julian. "And that, to me, is Amanda Hesser. She really wanted to do something for us."
Hesser dips her spoon into a warm apple crisp at Le Zinc. Mindful and precise, she tastes, talks, and listens. "Both for the magazine and for me, [the column has] been a big experiment," she says frankly. As for her growing notoriety and being in the newfound position of answering rather than asking the questions, well, it’s all still a little awkward. "I didn’t do the magazine thing to become a personality," Hesser says, her voice rising for emphasis. "I agreed to do this because if people read it, and it increases the readership of the Times — and elevates the power of voice in the food world ..." she trails off.
Ultimately, Hesser's authentic modesty, Old World grace, and earnest enthusiasm allow her to speak about food in a compelling, inclusive way. And that, rather than old-school elitism or pop-culture sass, is all she’s wanted to share with her readers from the beginning. "I’m interested in reaching real people who can relate to these issues or who can cook," she offers. "I’d like to reach some people who don’t normally read about food."
Nina Willdorf can be reached at nwilldorf[a]phx.com
