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Just when I thought my media exposure was over, I come back to find “The Red Mean” (City Desk, 2/11). (Not long after the Red Bean closed, I took off for New Orleans.)
“The Adventures of Frank” in the Washington Post Magazine was amusing and overwhelming at the same time. Unfortunately, the dark cloud that the editors painted over my head just never seemed to go away. Factoring in the funding, the Red Bean never had a chance. I can only hope that those who actually went to the restaurant and enjoyed it, enjoyed it while it lasted.
I apologize for not responding to your request for an interview. When the inevitable ending was near, we unplugged the phone. Please don’t think I was ignoring only you—I was ignoring everyone.
As for the critic wannabe whom I lambasted: If you read what he wrote, you might understand my anger. So let’s say it was a mixture of anger and humor. It’s one thing to state your opinion; it’s another to be overly insulting and rub it in.
It’s a little premature to label me a “former” restaurateur. Beginning April 1, you can find me at a place called Slice, right on St. Charles Avenue in New Orleans. We’ll be in full swing during the Jazz and Heritage Festival, so if you’re in the neighborhood, stop and say hello. I will continue to write my Cooking Corner in the Old Town Crier for anyone who wants to keep up with my antics.
Thanks to everyone who supported the Red Bean. For now, I resiliently remain,