Meeting the Man

On Tuesday, my friend (and trusty co-worker) Maegan and I walked into the Barnes and Noble in Union Square, and right behind us was Tony himself. As I squealed and ran to a safe spot, poor Maegan got to see why you really can't take me anywhere. I FREAKED, and we spent the next two hours musing over what clever, provocative, utterly amazing words to spout at him during the precious seconds we had in his presence. What are you expected to say to a magnanimous personality of his almost cultish fame, who's traveled to every country, met every person, and eaten every kind of delicacy I don't even have the ability to dream of?

Maegan and I stood with bated breath in the standing-room-only section (yes, amongst the bookcases), while Anthony read a few pages from his new book, and then took on an obligatory Q&A session. We darted to the "Line forms here" sign, only to discover we were in the secondary line. We were not discouraged by a hair. Instead, we took advantage of the extra time to brainstorm a few lines. Maegan settled on mentioning her boyfriend's aspirations (he's a professional chef), while I thought it would be nice to say something like, "So when are you coming back to Jersey?" (Bourdain was born and raised in Leonia). By the time we were ushered toward the stage, I looked around: those remaining were swooning, twenty-something females, just like us. How could we possible stand out?

Short answer: we didn't. I said, "Hi Tony." The music (Rolling Stones) was loud. His publicist (certainly a female Asian kickboxer) was intimidating. He scribbled our names in our spanking-new hardcovers, and I told him I might throw up. Then we said thanks and walked away. "Mission accomplished!" Maegan chirped. "I hate myself", I groaned.

In retrospect, I'm over it. I doubt he even heard my vomitacious threat, and you know how he is about hum drum book signings--who fucking cares? ...my God I love him.

From Medium Raw (Ecco, 2010):
There is no debating that it's "better" to cook at home whenever--and as often as--possible.

It's cheaper, for sure. It's almost always healthier than what you might otherwise be ordering as takeout--or eating at a restaurant. And it is probably better for society.

We know, for instance, that there is a direct, inverse relationship between frequency of family meals and social problems. Bluntly stated, members of families who eat together regularly are statistically less likely to stick up liquor stores, blow up meth labs, give birth to crack babies, commit suicide, or make donkey porn. If Little Timmy had just had more meatloaf, he might not have grown up to fill chest freezers with Cub Scout parts.