He’s written books examining systemic racism’s imprint on Baltimore and his own coming of age in the city. He’s the author of Carmelo Anthony’s memoir. He was in the writers’ room for “We Own This City,” David Simon’s HBO miniseries about the Gun Trace Task Force.
But what you may not know is that D. Watkins is also a food writer — and one nominated for a James Beard Award, at that.
The author, screenwriter and University of Baltimore professor recently added another accolade to his resume with the news that he’s in the running for a 2024 James Beard Journalism Award in the beverage writing category.
Watkins is nominated for an essay published in Salon, where he is an editor at large. The piece looks at the growing sobriety movement and Watkins’ own experiences abstaining from alcohol.
It’s also a tribute to his cousin, Maja Griffin, who died last September. Griffin, a talented bartender who worked at Baltimore hotspots like Charleston, Alma Cocina Latina and Bloom’s, was a champion of Watkins’ efforts to cut back on drinking, making him “MajTails” and other non-alcoholic concoctions that still had the layers of flavor one might search for in a good cocktail.
“You always have fun, even when y’all not drinking or before y’all’s drinks come out,” she promised Watkins when he worried about how a night out without drinking might go. “So just have fun — focus on that.”
Griffin’s supportiveness stands in contrast to some of the other characters encountered in his first-person essay. Despite a growing national interest in sober living, and a rapidly expanding market of “zero-proof” beers, wines and spirits, Watkins writes about being mocked for his decision not to drink, and being tempted to break his sobriety by well-meaning guests at a party in his honor.
Watkins’ essay grapples with alcohol’s grip on so many facets of our lives: the way it is interlaced with our social gatherings and career opportunities.
“Liquor is not my business,” he writes. “But so much of my business as a writer revolves around it — I call it let’s go grab a drink culture. I met my managers over a drink. Some of my first agents signed me after a drink or 10. I’ve done shots with lawyers and television executives. What would my career look like without it? Would I have been thought of a certain way if I had refused those drinks, or insisted we meet up for tea or sodas instead?”
The essay isn’t Watkins’ first foray into writing about food and drink. He’s previously mused about how hard it is to get a salad in Baltimore and his preference for real crab meat over the imitation stuff. He caught flak for a piece about how he hates home-cooked meals (“the whole point is that, if the meal is bad, you have to sit in someone’s house and pretend to enjoy it,” he says).
“I’m not really known as a food writer but I love food, I love to drink, I love conversation,” Watkins told me shortly after his nomination for a Beard award.
He was caught off guard by the news. Watkins was in the middle of an interview when a deluge of calls and Slack messages lit up his phone.
“I knew my editor had submitted the essay because she thought it was strong,” he said, “but thousands of people submit. I didn’t think they were going to choose me.”
He’ll be one of several Maryland finalists at this year’s Beard awards. Clavel, the Mexican restaurant and mezcaleria in Remington, is one of five finalists for the foundation’s Outstanding Bar award. Harley Peet of Bas Rouge on the Eastern Shore and Tony Conte of Inferno Pizzeria Napoletana in Darnestown are contenders in the Best Chef: Mid-Atlantic category. The media awards ceremony is scheduled to take place June 8 in Chicago, and the restaurant and chef awards will be announced June 10.
It’s also the latest honor for Watkins, who has been named a 2024 Gordon Parks Fellow.
The author said he plans to keep dabbling in food writing. He’s even starting to come around to the idea of cooking at home: He and his wife, Caron, experimented with home-cooked meals in the pandemic’s earlier days, whipping up shrimp and lobster omelets and addressing each other in the kitchen as “chef.”
“I felt like Carmy in ‘The Bear,’” he said.