Welcome to Food & Drink, the corner of Sip & Scene where we talk about what’s in the glass, what’s on the plate, and what all of it says about us when the check hits the table.
I’m Julianne Rossi, a former beverage director, hospitality lifer, and Chicago-based writer who still instinctively scans a room for the server station. I grew up sweeping floors in my family’s eatery, which means I learned early that restaurants are not just businesses. They are ecosystems. They are group projects. And sometimes they are the only place people feel seen after a long week.
Why I write
For more than a decade, I worked my way through the industry from the unglamorous jobs to the ones people romanticize. I’ve stocked beer in basements, polished glassware until my hands were pruny, and built cocktail programs where one tiny change in prep could save a team ten minutes a shift. I’ve also watched guests celebrate promotions, mourn losses, fall in love, and start over, all within a two-top and a flickering candle.
My academic background in sociology gives me a particular itch to ask: What does this menu reveal? Not just about flavor, but about labor, access, status, migration, identity, and the quiet rules of who feels welcome where. Dining out is a cultural barometer, whether we admit it or not. The way we tip, the way we talk about “luxury,” the way we treat the person refilling our water, it’s all part of the story.
The gluten shift
A few years ago, I developed a serious gluten intolerance, and it rewired my relationship with restaurants overnight. I went from being the person designing pairings to being the person asking the careful questions, double-checking ingredients, and trying not to look like I was making a fuss when my health was on the line. (To be clear: I’m not claiming a celiac diagnosis here. I’ll always specify if I’m writing from that lived experience or reporting on it.)
It also changed how I see kitchen operations. Menu inclusivity is not a trend, it’s a system. It’s training. It’s labeling. It’s cross-contact protocols, meaning the behind-the-scenes steps that keep gluten and allergens from accidentally touching a supposedly safe dish. It’s front-of-house communication. It’s the confidence a guest feels when a server says, “We’ve got you,” and actually means it.
So yes, I’ll always be the person cheering for a great tartare or a perfectly cold martini. But I’m also the person who notices whether the allergy note is treated like an inconvenience or a responsibility.
What you’ll find
Think of this space as conversations you’d have with your favorite bartender, the one who can recommend a bottle and also tell you what’s really happening behind the scenes.
- Dining culture, decoded: what’s shifting in restaurants, how we eat now, and why certain scenes suddenly feel electric or exhausting.
- Non-alcoholic mixology: sober-curious storytelling, NA spirits with real structure (bitterness, body, and balance), and drinks that feel like a night out, not a compromise.
- Allergy-friendly dining: practical, empathetic guidance and the operational realities that make safe meals possible.
- Industry life, with care: mental health in hospitality, equitable labor practices, and the human side of service that rarely makes the glossy headlines.
- Chicago, always: my home base, my proving ground, and a city that teaches you quickly that a great neighborhood bar matters as much as a tasting menu.
You can expect essays, guides, and reporting. When I review or recommend places, I’ll tell you what kind of piece you’re reading, and why.
The mission
Sip & Scene exists because food and drink are never just food and drink. They’re language. They’re ritual. They’re work. They’re power dynamics. They’re care.
My mission with Food & Drink is simple: make the restaurant world feel accessible without flattening it. I want to champion the people behind the plates and pours, tell the truth about how the industry operates, and still leave room for joy, discovery, and the occasional dive bar night that fixes your whole mood.
I’m fiercely loyal to both Michelin-starred visionaries and the corner spot that knows your order. Good hospitality can live in both places, and I’ll always write toward that kind of belonging.
Pull up a chair
If you’re here because you love restaurants, I’m glad you found this. If you’re nervous to dine out with an allergy, you’re in the right place. If you’re sober-curious and tired of being handed a sad soda, same. If you’re a hospitality worker reading this on a break, I see you, and I hope you get to eat something hot today.
Food & Drink is for the curious, the hungry, the cautious, the celebratory, and the quietly obsessed. It’s for anyone who believes a meal can be a mirror, and a great drink can be a small act of community.
Thanks for being here. Now, tell me what you’re drinking, and I’ll tell you what it says about the night you want to have.
