Memoirs About Chefs Are Chic

Lately I've been noticing the rash of writers who become chefs or take up serious cooking and then write a memoir about it. Of course by now you're probably familiar with Julie & Julia, the cooking experiment that became a movie and a worldwide phenomenon. You may or may not know about The Sharper Your Knife the Less You Cry in which a writer moves to France to become a chef. It's fantastic. Highly recommended. And now comes Apron Anxiety the memoir by Alyssa Shelasky that chronicles this writer's journey to becoming a foodie after dating this well-known reality chef.

Being a writer who is planning to write a book but is currently without a subject I'm starting to wonder if I should take up cooking? And...then I remember that while I adore good food--even consider myself a foodette--since I don't cook--I have no idea what to do with food except to eat it. And I don't enjoy preparing raw ingredients--like at all. The 10 minutes I spend preparing my green smoothie every morning aside--I have no talent at cooking food that people would actually want to eat. Sure, my dog loves everything I cook but then again she's eats anything she finds on the sidewalk so pretty sure she's not a good judge. In fact, it's pretty much a requirement for dating me that you know how to cook well. Or, love of good food and a willingness to eat out every night.  Also, I've lived with many chefs in part to get any of their delicious scraps. Given the evidence, or the lack of evidence of my cooking ability, I'm pretty sure writing a memoir about cooking is definitely not a good idea.

Still, memoirs about adventures in the kitchen are popular these days so perhaps I could whip something up (see what I did there?)  Here are some prospective titles:

Rosé, Prosecco and Tequila, Oh My!

All The Food My Ex-Boyfriend's Have Cooked

All the Ways I Can Make Toast

So...I'm thinking all of these will be voted down.


Back to dreaming up a new subject for my book.


Maybe it's springtime or the fact that I haven't been out of the country in a while but Paris has been on my mind. To wit, I re-watched Something's Gotta Give (which ends in Paris), just finished reading The Sharper Your Knife, the Less You Cry (a story of a writer who attends Le Cordon Bleu) and have been listening to lots of French music lately even though I can't speak the language. Like at all.  I even almost picked up a book about mothering the Parisian way even though I don't have children and have no plans to have them any time soon. I'm so Paris obsessed that I actually considered it for a nano second.

Pretty sure this means that I need to get a trip to one of my favorite cities on the books soon or else all that sexy French music I've been listening to is going to turn to the depressing sort like Mon Dieu by Edith Plaf. Which, may be a lovely song but makes me feel more desperate than all French and flirty.

On this lovely spring day I thought you might enjoy this rendition of La Mer by Julio Inglesias that I've had on repeat lately.  I'd put the song right in this post for you but the embed code is disabled. 

So you'll just have to settle for this photo of the Eiffel Tower that apparently Kimberly Vardeman took when she went to one of the best cities in the world without me. Um, not that I know her personally. Is it too big a favor to stow away a random stranger? When it's Paris, I think not.

Me prendre à paris!

Before I start donning berets, drinking red wine for lunch and smoking cigarettes.