About Widow

Large Handbag Collector. Obscenely Expensive Shoe & Handbag Lover. Blonde. Redhead. Brunette. Breastfeeder. Pug-fox terrier belly scratcher. Drunken Break Dancer. Bartender of the stars. Semi Conscious Writer. Earth loving. Tori Amos Listening. Loud Mouth. Chef Loving Lady...

When the Widow asked me to guest post for her while she was in Paris, I jumped at the chance. I mean, seriously, who wouldn’t want to the keys to this kingdom? You know they have some great food in the fridge. I wonder if there are any Chef-prepared leftovers around here anywhere? And she drinks way better wine than I do. I just hope they don’t lock their liquor cabinet.

Before I go much further, I suppose I should introduce myself. I’m Jill from over at Charming & Delightful. I am a bit of an amateur foodie myself, which is what first drew me to Chef’s Widow — the chance to live vicariously through someone living a life I can only dream of. You see, I love to cook and I’d love to go to culinary school, but I lack a little something called discipline. And I like to go to bed early, so the life of a chef is not really in the cards for me.

I’m a Sales Widow myself, so I can relate to the Widow’s struggles to raise a family with a husband who’s away from home so often. Plus, the girl is just funny and fabulous. And her kids have ridiculously cool names! What’s not to like?

But I have a confession to make. My first thought upon accepting this great guest posting honor was “How I can work Iron Chef Symon into my post?” Because you know she hangs out with him, don’t ya? And her Chef is often one of his assistants on “Dinner Impossible.” So, you know, he might actually read her blog… in his free time, which I’m sure he has soooo much of.

And, OK, I’m just going to say it. I have a major-league crush on him. He was one of my favorites from the beginning of “The Next Iron Chef,” right up there with Chef Besh (another chef crush of mine, by the way). And seeing him on that show made me want to go to Cleveland and eat at his restaurants. I’ve never been to Cleveland. I don’t really know anyone who lives in Cleveland. Why would someone just go to Cleveland? I have friends from there, but I figured there was a reason they didn’t live there anymore. Everyone I know who’s from Cleveland now lives in Chicago. For real, like half the city of Chicago came from Cleveland or one of the surrounding areas.

But there must be something to it if a fabulously talented chef like Iron Chef Symon (and Chef Sawyer) has set up shop there. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a city snob or anything — one of those people who thinks there’s nothing outside of NY or Chicago. I’m a small-town girl at heart who just happened to move to Chicago for a boy and a job. But my entire experience with Ohio can be summed up in two words: Cincinnati Airport. (Which is actually in Kentucky, so I guess that doesn’t even count as an Ohio experience. Damn!)

But then Chef Symon entered my world via one of my favorite things of all time – The Food Network. He became the Iron Chef and I actually started watching that show because there was finally someone other than Alton Brown on it who interested me. Then he took over on “Dinner Impossible,” another show I had never really watched, and I added that to my Food Network repertoire. Then, I found Chef’s Widow here in bloggy land and found out that she actually knew him, like in real life. Not just from TV. And suddenly I was only Two Degrees of Kevin Bacon away from Iron Chef Michael Symon. Squeeeeeeee!!!

But I didn’t want to write some ridiculous fangirl post about how awesome he is. About how wonderfully creative he is in the kitchen. Or how he can make even chocolate covered bacon sound appealing. Which, I guess now that I think about it… I love bacon. I love chocolate. God, now I love him even more. Pure genius!!

Anyway, now that I’ve gone and embarrassed myself, potentially in front of the Iron Chef himself, I’m just going to go crawl back to my little corner of the world. Thanks, Widow, for letting me relive my most mortifying high school memories. Man, I thought I had gotten over that whole “inappropriate displays of affection” tendency. Guess not! That’s what a sexy bald man in chef’s whites will do to ya!

 

The Day Before the Dawn: Brunch at the Tremont Tap House, kiddies, Rodenboch, friends.  Doesn’t get much better.

Tomorrow we are off to Paris.  And I have promised the Chef that the interwebs will no longer be my best friend.  For seven days.  And I am ok with that.  My carpal tunnel has been rearing it’s ugly head as of a late, so I think I will give my poor hands & wrists a break.  Plus I’ll need them to lift all the wine glasses that are bound to come my way.

I have asked a few friends, a few I know, a few are inerwebbers, to post in my abode while I am away.  This week I will feature some the most famous bloggers in the entire world universe!  Muuuuwhaaa haa!!!

Enjoy them.  Commentize them.  Love them.  Stalk them.  Make out with them.

 

Au Revoir

PS Whoever left me that nasty comment about my taste in boots can suck it!

A week from now I will be on airplane flying to Paris trying not to lose my shit.  The Chef will be holding my hand and I will be in tears for the first hour of my flight.  It won’t be pretty.  It never is.

I have been scared of flying for as long as I can remember.  I have silly rituals that I must do on every flight or else (as in or else I might die in fiery metal ball).  I drink tomato juice the entire flight.  I rarely drink alcohol. All that does is push my emotional threshold past the boundaries and there ain’t no coming back from that.  I make sure to have some kind of communication with the pilot, you know just to make sure their not all hopped on Adderall and Scotch.  I ALWAYS sit by the window.  No matter what.  Apparently I have rationalized that if we are going down I would like to watch.  Odd but I suppose I have always kept my eyes open for even the worst of things.  I am not very good at blindsiding myself.  

 But I am trying not to focus on the fact that I am going to be wreck for eight hours straight come Monday.  I am also trying to arrange  for some drugs.  Hopefully my doc will keep good on her promise to get me nice and ‘relaxed’ aka sedated for my travels.  Fingers crossed.  Instead of dwelling on my fears I have decided to focus on the positive.

I have seven days to spend with my amazingly awesome mini people and I am going to do it right.  Our week is going to be full of pumpkins, harvest festivals, museums, and food.  I am going to let Catcher Crazy Face sleep with me when the Chef works late and I am going to let Biggie Smalls drink all the goat’s milk her little heart desires.  I am going to eat them up and try not to cry.  Which is not really working at this moment.  But I can do it.  I can leave my kids for a week.  I am a big girl and I should still allow myself to have time for myself.  But that just seems so selfish and impossible.  Ahhhhhhh!!!!!  I am making myself crazy.  But seriously I wish wish wish wish that we could take the kids on this trip.  But the truth is we can’t.  And I need time with the chef and I need time for myself and I have never been to Paris…..so…..maybe I should just shut the fuck up, buy more boots, and start packing.

Right?

Hey Readers,

I need some help.  Anyone know any great flats/apartments to rent in Paris?  We have had one booked for awhile however our group dynamic changed and we are now homeless for our October trip.  We have 5 peeps going with us and have been looking at 2/3 bedrooms.  Any direction would be greatly appreciated!

Cheers, 

CW

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