I, admittedly, thought I was heading into the lion’s den as I walked up the Promenade toward Table 301, the restaurant I critiqued in my first negative review ever.

After all, I was not only meeting the restaurant’s owner, David Solzman; I was also meeting with the property owner, Tony Shooshani—the guy who has invested millions into revamping the former City Place space into The Streets—and their PR head, Cameron Andrews.

Surely, I was about to get ripped a new orifice.

The reality, however, was quite the opposite and, in a very particular sense, could be described as Very Long Beach. In fact, it was nothing short of amazing—and this piece is, admittedly, a bit selfish.

I came in with as much understanding as I could; I knew distinctly that my piece had an effect and that, in part, was the precise reason I had never written a negative review beforehand. (In fact, up until this past year, I had never even done “Best Of” lists because I found them filled with more ego than direction, if not outright being unfair: How can one say that Phnom Penh Noodle Shack’s bowl of noodles is inferior to a plate of Ellie’s Garganelli all’Amatriciana?)

I have always tried to approach food in the way of my culinary heroes—Anthony Bourdain and Jonathan Gold, surely having a spiraling, deeply prolix conversation up in the heavens about whether Jiro of Sukiyabashi Jiro or Albert Bañuelos of Burritos La Palma have the world’s most delectable rolled-up food—and that means talking to chefs.

Eschewing the ever mysterious Food Critic persona, I talk to chefs and restaurant folks. A lot. Before tasting their food most of the time. Ask Chef Jason Witzl. Or Chef Manuel Bañuelos. Or cocktail master Nathan McCollough.

And when a writer, especially one who loves food, talks to chefs, they discover journeys and stories and nuances and idiosyncrasies that make it very difficult to eat a plate of their food and judge its merits or lack thereof. Tack onto this Long Beach’s mostly-endearing-but-sometimes-blind sense of pride and any rightfully negative talk of food gets pushed to the quiet murmurs inside one’s bedroom walls.

My piece about Table 301, given this history of my writing, wasn’t Brian Addison Trying to Ruin a New Business. It wasn’t a pot-stirring piece.

It was a discussion in the newsroom, our group of editors analyzing the potential damage it could bring; we also analyzed the potential change it could bring. It was a frank conversation I wanted to have about Long Beach’s food scene, removed from my typical approach to food. It was many things.

But it was, first and foremost, a call to action.

I said it in the beginning of the piece, I said it at the end of the piece, and I will repeat it: I know Table 301 can do better—and it would be unfair of me to step into a gorgeous restaurant, where its owner easily threw down $1.5 million, and not alert him, as bluntly as possible, that he would find himself out of business if he didn’t have a kitchen to match the restaurant’s outer beauty.

Humble, understanding, and rightfully tired, Solzman thanked me. It was something I didn’t deserve but there was a vulnerability there that was, to say the least, noble.

Was he pissed at the piece? Of course he was.

The way he framed it, however, showed me a man with deep integrity: “You have these things in your head running a business—you know what’s wrong, you know they have to be fixed. And to have a complete stranger repeat that to you in such a fashion, it… It can be painful. It’s like I wanted to grab you and say to your face, ‘I know what’s wrong!‘”

Perhaps most respectable and tactful—besides not telling me outright to go sit on a bottle of two-buck Chuck and piss off—is that he respected my view, understood it as not an attack but a forthright call-out, and took action. And he wanted to have conversation about it. About the future, about change, about doing better.

“It was already being discussed but your article helped push things along,” he said. “We’re getting a new chef thanks to a recommendation from our beverage director—he’ll start his new menu in October. We’ve cut down our menu. We’re looking to change because you’re right: That food should have never been coming out of that kitchen.”

I only want the best for Long Beach and, as it so happens, so does Solzman.

“A guy like me is only given this kind of chance once in a lifetime,” he told me. “And I feel so blessed to have it that I know I can’t lose it on fixable things. Long Beach deserves that.”

Amen, David. Looking forward to the new menu, Table 301—expect me for lunch and dinner soon.

Table 301 is located at 301 The Promenade North.

Brian Addison is a columnist and editor for the Long Beach Post. Reach him at [email protected] or on social media at Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and LinkedIn.