One of my earliest food memories is of standing before a hot dog counter in a shopping mall food court, beckoned by a colorful advertisement of a new menu item: a cheesy corn dog. I asked my parents if I could have one, and they agreed—provided that I order for myself. I was a shy eight-year-old, and it was their attempt to get me out of my shell. I was hesitant but I agreed, because the mental image of a cornbread-jacketed hot dog on a stick (plus cheese!) bolstered my courage.

I stepped up and quietly ordered; the cashier had to lean forward to hear my nervous voice. But when I received my food and took my first bite, there was no joy. There was only the crispy coating and a center of gooey cheese. Where was the meat? I was indignant. I was outraged. I cried.

Eventually, my disappointment subsided and I enjoyed the cheesy treat for what it was, but that day I learned two valuable lessons. The first: Be bold and ask questions. Know what you’re getting yourself into, because a good meal is too important to leave to chance. The second: Be accurate when describing anything, especially food. What kind of monster calls something a corn dog when there’s no dog?

Those two simple rules have guided my life ever since. In school, I fell in love with words, which allowed me to soar with dragons as a tween and dive deep into insufferable ennui (yes, the dreaded French existentialists) in high school and college. And my family instilled in me a long-lasting love of food and cooking, with roots deep in the black soil of Canadian and Ukrainian farm towns. Because of my dad’s job as a geophysicist, we lived abroad when I was young; I slurped my first raw oyster on a misty London day. (My dad told me not to bite into it and to never cut an oyster in half before you eat it.)

Stepping into my new role as 5280’s food editor, I feel that old sense of shyness and trepidation. Those who have filled these shoes before me—Patricia Kaowthumrong, Denise Mickelsen, and Amanda M. Faison—were deeply knowledgeable food experts and talented writers, so I want to put everything I have into carrying on their legacy and giving Denver everything it deserves in food and restaurant coverage.

I’ll rely on culinary knowledge I learned at home, where my dad taught me how to make sausage and my mom demonstrated how to create meals economically and creatively. I’ll tap into my years working in restaurants. (I was the dough maker at a deep-dish pizza joint for a year and cooked up green chile and soups from scratch at a mom-and-pop cafe.) I’ll remember conversations I had during my seven years as Westword’s food and drink editor—with chefs, restaurateurs, bartenders, line cooks, kitchen managers, servers, and writing colleagues who have shaped and reported on the scene here in Denver.

I’ll continue to listen and learn from the newcomers and the lifers, asking questions and sharing what I learn with accuracy and passion: How is that dish made, why did you decide to put it on the menu, and who are the people who helped make it happen? I’ll pursue coverage with a combination of curiosity and compassion, informed by spending the past three and a half years advocating for restaurants and promoting industry workforce development and well-being at the Colorado Restaurant Association & Foundation. There, I gained a deeper understanding of the challenges of working in hospitality and running restaurants. That experience will shape my approach to storytelling as much as sampling the newest plate of dumplings or bowl of pasta.

Oh, and I’ll certainly let you know where to find the best cheesy corn dog in town. If you already know, or if you want to hit me up with your favorite places to dine, drink, and celebrate, send a note to dining@5280.com or @mantonation on Instagram.