The Biggest Lesson I’ve Learned in 30 Years

Block 16 podcast
Podcasting with Paul and Jess Urban of Block 16

In the past week, I got a chance to host Anthony Kueper of Dolce and David Utterback of Yoshitomo (stay tuned for a new episode Thursday!) on my podcast. These are not only two of the greatest chefs in Omaha, but I believe in the the country.

That’s on top of the opportunity to chat with one of one of the nation’s top pitmasters (Blane Hunter of Porky Butts BBQ) and pizzaiolos (David Losole of Virtuoso Pizzeria). And of course, I’ll never forget not only meeting, but interviewing, the chefs of my favorite restaurant, Jess and Paul Urban of Block 16.

Just writing those two paragraphs makes me shake my head in bewilderment.

As the Restaurant Hoppen podcast has grown over the past several months, I’ve been asked the same question over and over again: how did you get here? How did you make this happen?

The short answer? Passion, drive, and persistence.

And love.

Last Friday, I left my 20s in the past and truly entered adulthood. And as I reflected on all that’s happened since my last birthday, I realized I’ve probably grown more in the past year than in the rest of my 20s combined.

Because I worked my butt off.

I don’t say this to brag or pump myself up, but to encourage you. You have a dream. There’s something that gets you out of bed every morning. But it’s hard to chase it, especially when there’s little to show for it. Will pursuing that passion be worth the work?

For many years, the outward answer to that question for me was no. I ran a free WordPress restaurant review blog, Just a Guy with an Appetite, for about 5 years. If you want a good cringe, go ahead and read some of the early reviews on there. Woof, are they rough.

But I loved it. I have an extreme passion for 3 things: food, Omaha, and writing, and this site was a way for me to connect all three. Some labeled me a restaurant critic, but I don’t think that’s my role. My job has never been to nitpick restaurants or expose their inadequacies. Rather, I give people my honest opinion about places so everyone can find their best meal. We have so many incredible restaurants and chefs in this city that it’s nearly impossible to experience them all. I just wanted to be the guide that helped Omahans find their best meal.

I poured hours upon hours into that poorly-designed, extremely user-unfriendly site because food and writing are my passions. I didn’t care that I wasn’t getting paid. I didn’t care if anyone was reading. It was just what I did, and I cherished every second of it.

Pitiful as those first reviews were, I learned over time. I found new ways to describe flavors. I picked up new techniques to take better pictures of my dishes. I embraced Instagram. I experimented with how to tease my blog posts on social media. And somehow, in ways I still don’t understand, an audience grew. People enjoyed my every-man aspect to restaurant reviews. I wasn’t a critic breaking down how much coriander was in each dish or calculating how long it took for my server to refill my water. I was just another guy who loved food, just like my readers, and I described my meals how they would.

Then the breakthrough. I received a DM from Matt Vrzal, the chef/owner of Piezon’s Pizzeria, telling me he loved my passion and I should “build the DHop brand into a monster.” The idea sent a shiver down my spine, but I had no idea what that even meant, much less how to achieve it.

Vrz’s response: “That’s where I come in.”

We talked for an hour over the phone the following day. Matt is closely connected with Pat Safford and Jill Thomas at the Parkville Media, and they were interested in having me start a podcast on their growing network. Flattered and excited beyond belief, I didn’t know how to respond. I must have uttered something semi-intelligent, because soon I had a meeting with Pat and JT.

Then I had a logo.

Then I had a podcast.

And a few months later, I’m interviewing some of the brightest culinary minds in an incredible food city.

Holy cow.

If we’re being honest, it still makes no sense to me.

To abundantly be clear, I didn’t do this on my own. I owe a ton of credit to many people for making this dream a reality. Vrz for introducing me to Pat and JT. That duo for believing and empowering me. The Urbans for being the first chefs (other than Vrz) to come on my humble podcast. My wonderful wife for not complaining about the long hours I’ve spent at my laptop and in the podcast studio.

But getting to this point has not been easy. When Pat and JT agreed to have me host a podcast, I knew I had to ditch that janky WordPress site and upgrade to something more professional. I taught myself how to code through online tutorials, constructed RestaurantHoppen.com, and transferred over my reviews, a process that took hundreds of hours. I still have a full-time job, so I frequently sacrifice my lunch break or wake up at 5 AM in the morning to record podcast episodes. I also spend 20+ hours a week writing reviews and crafting my weekly newsletter.

But this is what I truly love, and I wouldn’t change a thing. And while I respect Vrz’s original motivation, I don’t do it for the D-Hop “brand.” I do it because I love Omaha, food, and people, and my website and podcast allow me to connect all three.

If you take anything from this post, please make it this: find your love, and chase it with all you have. I can’t guarantee that it’ll pan out or you’ll hit it big. And I certainly won’t say it’ll be easy.

But if you’re willing to put in the time and effort, I’m willing to bet someone will notice over time. That’s what happened with me. I have no culinary background, zero restaurant experience, and limited competence in the kitchen (though I’m getting better!).

And now renowned chefs are asking to come on my podcast.

As I wave my 20s goodbye and plunge headfirst into 30, my greatest advice is this: just go for it. Do what you love. 

Maybe it won’t work out. Maybe your side hustle will remain forever that.

Or maybe you’ll find yourself sitting across the table from David Utterback, asking yourself, “How the heck did I get here?!”