Regarding Brandon Watson’s review of Bun Belly [“Empty Stomach
,” Food, Aug. 28]: I’ve never eaten at Bun Belly, but I’ve been eating on Airport Boulevard since the Eighties. Mr. Watson’s snarky review conjures a mean-spirited, elitist snobbery that Airport Boulevard is just not about. Here’s a little secret: The point of restaurants on Airport Boulevard is that we have them. And we can eat in them. We don’t give two hoots about the decor. Hipster gentrifiers like Watson can moan about the “blah atmosphere” and the “cramped use of space” ad nauseam. You know what? We’re good with “late-Nineties Pier 1.” We’re as excited about drinking saké as we are about eating fresh buns at Burger Tex. We were happy as clams standing in line at Tamale House (R.I.P.), with no AC, where you could eat like a king for $5.
Leave us alone. We don’t want to be Dallas. Or Rainey Street. Really, we’re good.