How to (Successfully) Pitch to a Gourmet Food Magazine.

Ha.

You expected insights, some industry know-how, a checklist, like I’m your personal AI: research, brainstorm ideas, spot trends, networking, special handshake, cheat codes…

And I’m telling you, I don’t know the answer to my title.
You got baited.

I’m published on Gourmet Traveller all because of Lee Tran¹.

Last time, because she was the guest editor for the Lunar New Year issue, this time, we were texting and she said ‘Hey GT’s doing a Japan issue, you should pitch a couple of ideas to the editors’.

A couple? I pitched five:

1. Yatai in Fukuoka - with a link to my write-up in the New York Times last year. This is perhaps the last squeeze from the teat I get to milk before it becomes irrelevant. I’m almost sick of mentioning Yatai, because those who’d go have gone, and those who wouldn’t will never. But the link is to flex that I’ve done this, I’ve been verified, trust me, and hold my hand.

2. Mentaiko - pollack/cod roe fermented in chilli and brine is big.
   Koreans, and Chinese are queueing at Mentaiko restaurants in Fukuoka. I’d love to talk about the history (it’s from Korea, surprise!) Hit up some restaurants, write a few recipes on where to get Mentaiko and how to make pasta, toasties, and a simple topping on rice at home.

3. Anything Akita / Niigata related. This was the one I desperately wanted to do. The ‘rice’ prefectures of Japan. I wanted to explore the rice fields, the sake factories, to stay at a local ryokan. Get a local guide, be Asian Tony Bourdain.

4. Recipes from Japanese novels, are also my ‘fingers crossed’ favourite. Recreating pasta from Haruki Murakami’s Wind-up Bird Chronicle, Jun'ichirō Tanizaki's miso soup in the dark, Banana Yoshimoto’s katsudon, any butter recipes from Butter etc, and photograph it Gourmet Traveller style. I should do it even without GT.

5. Japanese (omakase, to be precise) restaurants in Melbourne. The last-minute, in-and-out idea. Just like idea #1, it’s a flex to show that I’ve done it. Here are links to all the omakase restaurants I did on Broadsheet, I could do it again, eyes closed. Just take my hand and I will show you the world.

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They picked number five - a photo essay on three omakase spots in Melbourne.

They had to finalise content by October, and me not leaving for Japan until mid-September, was a little tight for comfort. I also suspect, that since my first contribution was a photo essay on various restaurants in Melbourne, this was a good continuation of what they are comfortable with.

Subtext: please use your photography to distract readers from your inexperienced writing.

I should be so happy that I received a green light.

But this ungrateful asshole had the balls to request a change from ‘omakase’ to ‘omotenashi’.

Omakase means I’ll be shooting sushi, sushi, sushi, and I wasn’t sure if it’s a compelling read for the readers without sounding like a paid editorial. Omotoneashi is a spirit of hospitality, so the idea of non-Japanese offering a Japanese service is a nice twist, and perhaps we could sneak in a Japanese serving French fine dining as another twist.

So, Matsu for the unique four-seater experience in Footscray, Uminono for the dry-aged sushi lunch and premium boxes in Prahran, and Kazuki’s for that French Australian post-Tetsuya baton carrying fine dining in Carlton.

Sure, fine, whatevs, we trust you. They said.

Shining, shimmering, splendid.

I suspect they have forgotten to update the cover from ‘omakase’ to ‘omotenashi’ but please keep it between us.

Seriously, the answer to the title is to have supportive friends.
Be confident in what you can bring to the table.
Bring an AK-47, spray and pray to Buddha.

Here are some photos that weren’t chosen, but loved by me nonetheless.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m so tired of seeing Han in the white uniform”, I messaged Elly, his business/life partner.

“Me too,” she replied.

I know the uniform is part of the ‘sell’, but also ridiculous that we can accept billionaires wearing hoodies to a meeting, but hairnets and uniforms are non-negotiable to be taken seriously.

My only brief to myself for Matsu was no more chef’s uniform, no smiling faces behind the counter, no holding up a box of dead fish bellies, lobster, or crab.

We spent a lunch break together and walked to Footscray market. I doubt he orders seafood from Footscray market like a retailer - restaurants are usually contracted with specific wholesalers. Keep that in mind the next time you see another celebrity chef wandering around a ‘local’ market in a documentary. It’s probably their day off in a very long time.

Han did buy fruits for his seasonal dessert (he ordered taro).

It’s probably the influence of street/wedding photography, I have the tendency to pick the spots chefs don’t want me to be in. Like the wet kitchen, where people prep, the messy part.

Because, for me, that’s real.

The clean, polished, shiny part they want you to photograph, is the written PR statement they send to editors and newspapers.

My favourite part of a meal at Matsu was the takeaway onigiri.
That was a genuine human touch and I was glad the editors chose the shot.

Like white people trying to tell you what is good ramen or sushi, the only people I know that diss Uminono’s non-Japanese heritage are the non-Japanese. Meanwhile, all Japanese I know, including my wife, adore Uminono.
I had lunch with the owner of <enter highest rated sushi restaurant in Melbourne> in Uminono.

Uminono’s omotenashi comes from the fact that they are only open for lunch (for now). They could’ve gone to dinner and bumped up the price - that’s where the money is. Maybe it’s a confidence thing since the foundation of the business was takeaway sushi boxes. I have heard of the cost of the box and the soy sauce bottle. When people keep your soy sauce bottle with your logo, that’s a mini billboard in your pantry. That was perhaps their biggest return on investment.

The nigiri shot was chosen instead of this temaki. Regulars know the temaki is the highlight. When made fresh, it’s crispy, salty, umami and sweet. Anyone can offer good tuna provided enough cash is thrown over the counter. Handroll sushi? Not so much.

Shooting Kazuki’s was easy, because it’s within walking distance. I’ve also recently dined there, so I knew the place well - I needed a portrait, a prep shot, a dining room shot, and a kitchen shot.

The writing was difficult, as he was self-conscious, mindful and soft when giving opinions, which was the yin to my yin. I had nothing to taichi back.

I was hoping he or his wife Saori would share some techniques, special wines, certain ingredients that are hard to get, the extra mile, but it’s not in their character to boast. I’ve seen cockier baristas burning coffees in Brunswick.

Their portraits in the press always look stand-offish. This one I thought had a little bit of tenderness.

Through slow and painful extraction, I observed he only eats one meal a day, lives in the city while his family is in Daylesford, hosting wine makers before service, all the little sacrifices in life. Perhaps, their whole life is omotenashi for the customers. Because why would anyone do this? Why not sell wagyu hot dogs with wasabi cheese sauce or <enter Japanese ingredient> ice cream in a food truck²?

I also saw how he made the nori butter. Could it be, could I have pitched a whole story, just to sneak in undercover to learn a recipe? You’ll never know.

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You’re probably thinking: who gave me the right to decide on these places?
Why not X, or why not Y?
Did we have a meeting on this?

The obvious answer is no.

When an editor calls for pitches, she is relying on her contacts.
If a monkey like me could pinch five ideas, Lee Tran probably pitched twenty. The editor had probably over a hundred ideas to consider, and she needed to consider sponsorship, conflict of interest, trends, readership and space.

After deciding on the stories, then someone has to produce them.

My job is to assure them to take my hand and trust me.

Should I have considered other Japanese places? Of course.

But I also could not fault the first three that came to my mind.

Just like how Lee Tran thought about me, I so happened to think about the most recent interesting restaurants in Melbourne that are related to my theme.

You know the saying: you are the average of the five restaurants you spend your time at.

The last time we did the Lunar New Year dinner, it was my idea to cover five restaurants. Not saying I wasn’t happy, just that the final outcome felt a little cramped as I believe they tried to include as many photos as possible. Having it down to three, in a selfish way, made my photographs and writing more impactful.

Graphic Design 101: chotto is motto.

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This will probably come up later in my annual report, but my motivation to write this year has shifted from writing to ‘please’, to writing to ‘not disappoint’.

I said it before, and I’ll say it again, I’m on GT because of Lee Tran. She’s recently won a Webby for her podcast and is known as ‘the queen’ for her twenty years of experience in the industry. Thank you.

When she encouraged me to pitch, I felt if I didn’t do it, I’d be disappointing her. Her expectations, the opportunity, and myself in that order. (Also, my wallet.)

My subscriber number isn’t high, but I know they are important people. Some of you are even here because of Lee Tran. Thank you.

Jennifer Wong, constantly on tour and self-torturing for the Guardian, carved time to proofread my pitch. I know I’m meeting you for lunch soon, but my Asian manhood will struggle to admit outright that I take more than I give in our relationship. Thank you.

Shaun, who had to take portraits of me in the middle of Hakata with my fabulous camera, thank you.

All of you who message me to either correct my grammar or challenge whatever I write, or to give unsolicited suggestions - screw you, get a life.

But also, thank you.

1. She has a story in the issue too: hundred-year-old Japanese soy sauce makers, and Fino Foods who stocks them. Spoiler: not in Victoria, don’t bother.

2. Actually sounds amazing.