A Food Critic’s Review Destroyed My Restaurant in Chicago. Five Years Later, She Showed Up at My Chile Farm in New Mexico

She walked up to the stand like she wasn’t sure she should.

“Hello, Diego,” she said.

“Ms. Stone.”

“Rachel,” she said. “Please.”

The smell of roasting chile was everywhere. Families were loading forty-pound sacks into their trucks. My nephew was ringing up a customer.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

“I left the paper,” she said. “I’m writing a book about American chefs who walked away. I’ve been driving across the country for two months.”

“And I’m a chapter.”

“You’re the last chapter,” she said quietly. “You’re the one I’ve been dreading.”

I turned the roaster. The chile blistered and popped.

“You came all the way to Hatch to interview the man you put out of business?”

She took off her sunglasses. Her eyes were green and very tired.

“No,” she said. “I came to apologize.”