Third Best? Maybe. Fully Ourselves? Always.
Recognition isn’t why we cook—but it helps us keep cooking. We’re grateful to everyone who took the time to vote. I wrote a few thoughts about the strange world of local food awards—and where we fit (or don’t).
It’s that time of year again—when all those ridiculous ad campaigns roll out, masquerading as “awards.” They’re annoying for a lot of reasons. So why do we bother participating? Let’s talk about it.
Most of these contests come from the same few outlets—Cleveland Magazine, Cleveland Scene—both operating under the Cleveland Studios umbrella (two media brands, one figurehead). On paper, they seem like a fun way to rally support for local businesses. We all get to nominate and vote. Sounds democratic enough. But if you’ve ever tried to get noticed in a city whose food media mostly revolves around celebrity chefs, big restaurant groups, and the one critic’s inner circle—you already know it’s not exactly a level playing field.
In practice, these polls are mostly marketing tools. Small businesses get emails pushing ad buys ahead of the voting cycle. If you place—often in oddly specific categories designed to ensure a nomination—you get another email offering pricey ad packages to promote your achievements. Ads can run into the thousands, which is out of reach for most independent shops. Some bigger names bite. Why? I’m not sure. The pattern is clear: the same large operations win year after year. They’ve got the budgets, the name recognition, the clicks—and big teams who can dominate daily voting before the public even gets involved.
Do our staff vote? Occasionally. Not often. They can’t be bothered most days. Meanwhile, some of the big guys have large crews voting every day, across multiple categories. That’s how the scheme works. It’s not about food or community—it’s about clout and clicks.
So why do we play along? Honestly, free advertising. That’s why we ask our regulars to vote. We’re just trying to get our name out there. Yes, it’s a name people find complicated. That’s fair. But it means something to me—an ode to my past, my roots, and the mission behind Foodhisattva. In a city that values simple branding and fast recognition, I know that’s not exactly business-savvy.
On the other hand, these awards give me something to post about. I mean, I'm writing a blog. Even I know I have an outdated relationship with the internet. Most small businesses don’t want to play the content game—but here we are, cobbling together captions and sharing snapshots we don't have time to take. Say something, anything.
I have a content quota to keep, and I'm doing that by saying I have a content quota to keep.
Foodhisattva has consumed over a decade of my life. I’m proud to have built one of Cleveland’s oldest vegan scratch kitchens. I love the people who connect with our anti-establishment ethos and find our food comforting. Everything we do—by design or by default—reflects that vibe. We started as animal rights activists, and we still are. Over time, that expanded into other forms of advocacy: for small business, for food made from scratch, for community over competition.
Are we the best? Not if you're counting market share, media coverage, or ad dollars spent. By those standards, we’re not even successful.
But I’ve always measured success differently.
As Dylan once said:
“A man is a success if he gets up in the morning and goes to bed at night, and in between he does what he wants to do.”
Most days, I get to cook the food I love, for people I respect, in a community I care about. I’m not a good businessman, and by today’s metrics, that might make me a bad chef too. But like my favorite craftspeople and artists, I try to make my contribution count. Am I “the best”? Of course not. I don’t even know what that means. Am I doing my best? Absolutely.
Tomorrow, I’ll do more of my best. And at some point, my best will do me in.
Recognition is nice, and we need a little of it to keep the lights on. But egos are meant to be broken. Staying grounded, and I’m rolling in metaphorical dirt over here, matters more to me than being recognized in a local advertisement.
…he tells himself to feel better.😅
Seriously though—thank you to everyone who voted for us in this year’s silly polls. It helps folks find us. It helps me feel seen.