Sheridan Smith
Sheridan Smith/Special to the Chronicle
As a restaurant critic, I’m pouring one out for TikTok, which could be banned in the U.S. as soon as Sunday, Jan. 19. I’m not too proud to admit that I’m mourning the loss of a source of entertainment — but I’m also losing a vital well of leads for restaurants and stories about them.
The short form video platform — which will still be operational, but no longer available to download for new users in America — has pointed me to phenomenal finds: Indian skewers cooked over charcoal flames; Pakistani-style smashburgers; Cambodian-style pork ribs; and a number of flaming al pastor trompos. The app has been a constant source of inspiration for my work — and it’s indelibly shaped our food culture, for better or worse. The platform helped anoint a new kind of restaurant critic in figures like Keith Lee; led to trends like super-sizing foods to sometimes horrifying Kaiju-sized proportions; and spread the good word about treats like colorful, pistachio filled Dubai-style chocolate bars.
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Freshly prepared Chicharrones at Nano’s Chicharrones. The business achieved online fame through TikTok.
LiPo Ching/Special to The Chronicle
I remember scrolling through my feed when images of crackly, golden brown chicharrones lit up my face like I was John Travolta peeking inside the suitcase in “Pulp Fiction.” Those crunchy delicacies belonged to Nano’s Chicharrones, a home business in San Jose that fried up pork in the Mexico City-style tradition. I don’t think I would have written about it had it not been for TikTok. The app gave me an edge, as many of my colleagues in food media tended to avoid the platform. But my approach has always been: leave no stone unturned.
Since my very first foray into food writing, I’ve always viewed social media as a key data point, in part because it delivered a raw look at what’s exciting in the food scene. I brought that know-how to my current gig as a restaurant critic, and it’s helped me find stories that I might have otherwise ignored. TikTok, especially, became an avenue rife with exciting prospects, many of which I went on to write about.
Chef owner Varun Sapra has a laugh during the final moments of another sold-out service at his food truck Keeku Da Dhaba in Fremont. The restaurant came to the attention of diners, and critics, partly through TikTok.
Don Feria/Special to The Chronicle
The app gave budding restaurant owners an edge, too. Many used TikTok as a way to market their business and many of them found their niche. Nano’s, for instance, has gone viral on the platform several times, tantalizing millions with an audible crunch, which proved to be a jump start for the business. Some of the best taquerias I’ve encountered in the Bay Area used the app to amass an audience. Videos by food influencers, too, regularly draw hundreds of thousands of views, which can result in a notable boost in sales. Now that line of communication and revenue steam may soon be gone.
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There is some silver lining, however. Most businesses tend to cross-share across platforms, reposting videos from TikTok on other social media sites like Instagram. But each app has its own set of rules, its own mercurial audiences, and the loss of TikTok lessens the chances of virality, reducing the odds of new business.
I understand that to some the fast pace and capricious nature of the social media site was alarming, sometimes even scary. But it captured people’s attention and it gave a more immediate picture of what various communities wanted to eat. I’m sure there will be another shiny new place that fills the hole left by the platform’s departure, and I’ll adapt to that one too. But the fact that enterprising, tech-savvy chefs have conjured tangible restaurants and food trucks out of TikTok videos — many of which I’ve gone on to review — is astounding.
Reach Cesar Hernandez: [email protected]
Jan 17, 2025
Associate Restaurant Critic
