Besides serving as a porn and conspiracy theory delivery vehicle, the intertubes also help define our reality.

For example, there are entertainment mash ups, like this:

There are historical reinventions, like this:

And meaningful health advice, like this:

Let’s just say that somewhere a gigantic server is backing everything up.  When the world comes to an end, and the follow-on species discovers the digital remnants of our civilization, they are going to worship us as the Gods of Gods.

How could they not? I mean, would you look at all of that fantastic culture. This will be our crowning achievement; our Library of Congress and National Archives . . . stuffed to the gills with tasty goodness.

The veteran on the film that chronicles his high school days five whole years ago Takeaway the league MVP, the five All-Star appearances, the Rookie of the Year award, the high school national championship, the Sports Illustrated cover at 17, and eventually you get to a core. His mom’s in there somewhere, sure—anyone who’d buy her son a $50,000 Hummer for his 18th birthday should be. But most of it’s made up of the small group of friends he grew up with. The guys he played with from middle school through high school back in Akron, Ohio, who dubbed themselves the Fab Five and rarely lost a game together, and who watched—and supported—him as he left them in the realm of mere localphenomery to be a worldwide star. It’s those guys—and the friendship they formed—who are the focus of the new documentary, More Than a Game (out October2). The almost two hours of home movies,gamefootage, and present-day interviews show five boys become friends, a team, and, eventually, men. Which is nowhere near as painfully earnest as it sounds. We talked to him about the film.
W: Did it affect you, having a director at school filming all the time?
LEBRON JAMES: It didn’t bother us at all as players. We just looked at him as part of the team, the guy carryingthe camera. We just lived our lives. He never made us sit down for interviews, noth-inglike that. So itwasn’tabigthing.
W: Have a favorite part?
LJ: When Dru [Joyce] made seven threes in the state championship our freshman year. Just to see what he went through, with all the size, and no one’s giving him a chance, and then he delivered the last game of our freshman year like that. That was unbelievable.
W: Are you all still close?
LJ:Two of them are out here with me right now in L. A., filming a State Farm commercial. And we all live in Ohio in the off-season. Romeo Travis and Dru Joyce are playing professional basketball in Germany. Willie McGee is applying to grad school at the University of Akron, and Sian Cotton is playing football at Walsh College in Canton, Ohio.
W: Do you still refer to yourselves as the Fab Five?
LJ: We refer to each other as friends.
W: Any jealousy issues when the Queer Eye for the Straight Guy guys started using the same name? LJ: No, no, course not, man.
W: So you’re an executive producer on the movie. Plan on doing more producing in the future?
LJ: I don’t know. If a great opportunity opens itself up, I would love to be involved… or star in a movie. I’m a pretty funny guy, and I would love to do a comedy with a bunch of funny guys—movie-star guys, where they could help me through it. W: Has anybody approached you yet?
LJ: We’re just in preliminary talks with everyone. W: What are you up to next? LJ: I’m traveling to Asia and Europe for the movie. W: Do you remember any of the Mandarin you learned for the Olympics?
LJ: Yeah, ni hao. [Hello.] That’s the only one I need.
W:Any favorite cities over there?
LJ:I like Beijing, Hong Kong, Shanghai, Tokyo—
W: How do they compare to Akron?
LJ: No place is better than Akron.
W: Fair enough.
LJ: No place.

Well, to be fair, there are a ton of things that piss me off.  Obviously.  I mean, I’m human.  There are certain things that bother certain people while not bothering others.  Today I’d like to focus on classrooms and their poor design.  One might not think such a thing was important, but it is.  And when you attend college at my school, there are classrooms you wouldn’t condemn a prisoner to for more than an hour.

First off, the temperature is never right.  The classroom is either scalding hot or freezing cold simply because in most classrooms, the professor has no control over the air conditioning or heat.  Some rooms don’t have windows, or they do, but they are un-openable.

Which brings me to my next point.  No windows?  What kind of learning environment is that?  Personally, I need windows to get through a fifty minute class, never mind a three hour one.  Without them, I feel trapped.  I feel like there is no oxygen left in the room, suffocation close close closer.  Maybe this makes me a closeted claustrophobic or some garbage like that, but it’s true.  I like windows… a lot.  They help me with inspiration, help me concentrate, help me… breathe.

And thirdly?  Please don’t give me a desk about the size of an ordinary CD case.  I like having space to write and I like to be able to lay out hand outs and I enjoy leg room for the love of God.  I don’t want to knock my knees into the back of someone’s leg in front of me, nor do I want to be crammed so tightly I cannot cross my own legs.

Lastly, when placing a clock in a room, normally one would put it in the front of the room.  One of my professors has already chastised a student for looking in the wrong direction while he was lecturing, so I fear for my life if I were to spin around in my chair and check the time or casually flick my cellphone out of my pocket and check the time that way.  It’s just poor planning.

To quote a favorite (Queer Eye for the Straight Guy), “This room is just stupid.”   Which just so happens to apply to every single class room I’ve had the joy of occupying during my college career.

Well, I woke up this morning in a dank room somewhere near Chattanooga. The room was dank because I had turned the fan off because it was right above the bed… I had turned it off because I had heard, incorrectly, of course, many years ago that you can get Bells Palsy from drafts. lol! To this day, whenever I am in the direct line of a draft, I remember that and try to steer clear. lol! Now, this may seem ridiculous, and it is of course, but old habits die hard. My dear friend Laura said that drafts don’t cause Bells Palsy, so I guess I won’t have to steer clear anymore. Amazing how I have carried that thought for the last, say, 20 years. Oh, well…

I continued on my route that the two gay guys in the diner told me to take. I like to think of this route as my “queer eye for the straight gal” route. They really hit the nail on the head. The views of the mountain ridges were absolutely spectacular. I passed beautiful farms, horse paddocks and one historic battlefield after the other. I passed the home of Stonewall Jackson and the birthplace of Davy Crockett. 

The biggest challenge I had all day was trying to get my daily fix of a cup of hot tea. I don’t drink coffee, have never had a cup o’ joe. Ever. It is essential that I have my caffeine. Well, they don’t sell hot tea, anywhere, not McDonalds, or Burger King or at gas stations. I went to a McDonalds and asked for a cup of hot tea, extra large, and the girl said she never heard of it. What? You’re kidding. She then said as she scrunched her nose “where yoooou frouum, Miss?” I told her CT. She told me that they don’t sell that. So I then asked her if there was a Dunkin Donuts near by and she said she “ain’t never heard of it, either.” One gas station told me they only sell “sweet tea” in these parts, which is iced tea. No, no, no – not for me. I need my tea hot, sweet, and with lots of cream. I had to wait until about noon before I could get my tea, when I moved further up north. 

It’s now about 10:00 and I have had about 5 large teas, really large. But, I needed them to keep driving. I am somewhere in Virginia, at a Holiday Inn Express, which is a lot better than the Bates Motel last night. And there is no impending threat of Bells Palsy as far as I can tell. And no Hillbillies running around the parking lot outside my door and no crying kids. I went for a swim by the highway… lol, but it was nice to get moving after sitting all day. As I was lollying about in the pool the sun sunk below a big mountain, creating a purple and orange glow in the sky. It reminded me of the times my family drove to Florida from Chicago in our VW bus, and staying at Holiday Inns and swimming in the pools. We loved it then, and I must say, it was just as fun tonight, but I didn’t have my brothers and sisters to play with.

The wildflowers along the highway were so beautiful. Chicory, cosmos, and evening primrose. The colors were rich and vibrant. The Forsythia is starting to bloom.

Our country is beautiful. And the highway system is efficient. For such a young country we have accomplished so much. And it is “free”. Of course it is paid for by taxes. But if you have traveled to other countries and tried to drive, you may find that many places do not have such an impressive highway system. The reason I was thinking about this is that so many people are saying they don’t want government to interfere with their lives, or “get between them and their doctors”… These same people are driving on these roads day in and day out and never consider who built them. Our government built them and did a superb job. When I think of how much it cost me to re-do my driveway a few years ago, and then I look at the expansive highway system our country has I am impressed. And grateful. I saw signs at rest stops about the The Dwight D. Eisenhower National System of Interstate and Defense Highways. I never knew he was responsible for this expansive system until my daughter told me about a year ago. Sometimes I just don’t know what I was doing in school, cuz I can’t remember anything. 

The road trip bug has bitten me. I enjoy having short conversations with people at various rest stops, gas stations and re-caffeinating stops. I spoke with two country women at a gas station today about the new pennies that are in circulation. They were so sweet. They told me that they go through the register and look for the new ones to collect. They had some sweet blue grass music playing. They were simple, good country folk, with deep lines in their faces, working the register, for God knows how many years. As I was leaving I said to them “See you later”, knowing I never would. But it was a nice little exchange.

The lady at the Bates Motel was also interesting. She had long blond hair below her ass. And she was about 60. She was so friendly. She told me she hates living there, but that she could never leave because she has two grand babies there. I just can’t imagine working in the Bates Motel… but you do what you have to do to be near your loved ones and pay the bills. She also bitched about the local town council and how they were ball busters over sign rules and regulations. (her Motel sign was about the size of a twelve inch ruler, not kidding)
I told her they were the same way about signs in Greenwich. 

Then at one exit ramp there was a man sitting on a stump with a brown cardboard sign that read “HOMELESS, BROKE & HUNGRY”. He was probably about 60 years old, and had one crutch. His eyes were bright blue like a summer sky, his hair was white and his skin was thick with deep lines and whiskers and was weathered from a hard life. My thoughts about this man were many. What happened to him? Was he a Vietnam vet? Was he abused as a child? Where did he sleep? The light was a long one. so I opened my window and said hello. Asked him how he was doing and he told me he was going blind. He only had one tooth in the top of his mouth. I gave him ten bucks and told him I hope things get better for him. I asked him if I could take his picture and he obliged. 

This made me sad. I went, bought another tea, and got back on the road. 

Now, me talking to this homeless guy goes against everything I talk to my daughter about. Our running joke/dialogue/life lesson about what she is not supposed to do goes like this;

me; “Okay, Lula, what are you supposed to do when you are coming home with a bag of groceries, at night and your kitten is sitting upstairs in the window waiting for you to come in and feed him and there is a man with a broken arm trying to move furniture in the back of a truck? Do you offer to help him?”
lula; “No, Mom. I am never, ever supposed to help anyone do anything… especially help a man with a broken arm move furniture into the back of his truck.”
me; “Why not?”
lula; “Because he might abduct me and torture me and put me down a hole in the basement of his disgusting house.”
me; “Right. Good answer.”

This is a lesson straight out of the movie “Silence of the Lambs”. Scariest reality that could happen to a young naive girl. Especially one that likes to help people.

I also spoke to a young kid at a Dunkin Donuts about the new pennies. He told me that it is the first time that the same president’s image is on both sides of a coin. Being old, and half blind myself, I couldn’t tell who the hell was on the back of the new penny, but he told me in no uncertain terms it was Abe, sitting on a log, reading a book or something. Even with my reading glasses on, I couldn’t tell it was Abe. But I decided to believe him, because he was about 18 years old and probably had good vision. And I kinda like the fact that Abe is on both sides. I was born on his birthday and grew up in the Land o’ Lincoln.

There were far less Jesus signs today. They were replaced by signs like “Meth Destroys”. Oh, and I also saw an “Obama/Biden Affordable Healthcare” sign. It was a big, professional sign along the highway. I was happy to see that.

I spoke to Lula several times today and she is loving Tulane so far. She is meeting people and having a good time. She started classes today and all went fine. I am happy to say that she called me. She wanted to see how I was doing on my solo drive. Very sweet girl. ( I want to make sure that I give her space and don’t call her too often…, she beat me to the punch)

So, that’s my story and I’m stickin’ to it.

xoxo

How often have you heard that it’s impossible for a girl and a guy to be “just friends” without one person, (or both) wanting more? Is a completely platonic relationship really possible between members of the opposite sex? Well, when the guy is gay it sure is!

If there is one thing better than a BFF, it’s a GBFF. Not only do you have someone by your side at H&M,  bringing you cookies when you’re broken hearted,  or laying aroun watching SATC marathons with you on a Saturday, but that someone is also fabulous, hilarious, and…er…gay! What makes a GBFF better than your average girl?

1. They’re honest
There’s something different about when a gay guy tells you that you look “fabulous” rather then when your girlfriend does. And by “different” I mean “more believable.” It’s not thay I don’t trust my girlfriends, but sometimes girls, consciously or unconsciously, tend to be more competitive when it comes to that kinda stuff. We all secretly want to look the hottest and be the best, so comments are sometimes not 100% truthful. A gay guy, though, isn’t competing with you for male attention (at least not from the same dudes), so you know when he tells you you look bangin’, you look totally bangin’.

2. They know what guys are thinking
However much we think we understand men and what goes on in their crazy heads, we don’t. We constantly try to guess what they are thinking 24/7, analyzing every text message, every voicemail, and trying to uncover the truth behind their body language.

Now, don’t get me wrong. Girlfriends can give some great advice when it comes to men, but none of them can truly understand what goes on in a guy’s head. Your GBFF can! Even though he may be gay, he’s still a dude who understands dudes. And he’ll give it to you straight.

3. No Expectations
Taking my gay friend to my formal this year at school was the best decision I’ve made since getting a gay best friend, hands down. It was a blast dancing around with him and not having to worry about the whole, “are we going to hook up” question or “am I leading him on by bringing him to formal?” Not having to consider any ulterior motives he might have had, or what he was thinking every second, was such a relief. Yes, I totally could have brought a girlfriend to avoid that as well, but honestly, it would have been awkward during the slow songs.

4. They know how to move
My girlfriends can’t spin me around, pick me up and leave me practically speechless with their incredible dance moves. Not that I’m not a fan of the way-too-long-sweaty-out-of-synch grinding that normally occurs at any place you put college girls and guys together with some music, but it’s nice to do some traditional fun dancing with a guy who’s got some rhythm. And a great outfit. And hot shoes. And muscles.

5. They can make you laugh
Ok, so I’m sure all of your friends can make you laugh, but it’s different with the GBFF. Just think about it – Heidi Klum is cute and funny, but she’s no Christian Siriano. Just sayin’…

Someone (that crazy-ass Danielle from The Real Housewives of New Jersey) once said that behind every beautiful woman is a gay man pushing her along. I believe it. Everyone needs a GBFF. You just can’t have mine.

Carson Kressley, that queen of comedy, has a hilarious how-to video (lots of alliteration in this post) about “How to Talk Straight Talk” on Funny or Die. I was chuckling over my left-over pizza this morning. Click on his photo to watch.

And how about props to legislators in Maine yesterday?

In case you missed it, there was a fantastic interview with Camilla Taylor, the lead attorney (who happens to be straight), in the Iowa lawsuit on behalf of GLBT folks on NPR’s Fresh Air.

An unrelated but thought-provoking video from yesterday’s media is from the women on The View (don’t laugh–I have an unhealthy admiration of this show–maybe it’s my Filipino heritage and its matriarchal society). In this clip, they’re debating whether to teach Darwinism in public schools. A frightening thought that the science of human life would not be taught in public schools.

My favorite part is when Joy Behar says that the absence of Darwinism in schools is “child abuse, in my opinion.”

This evening’s entry comes from a completely different place than all my other’s. Today a recent chapter in my life that I once thought closed was reopened again. It’s as if J.K. Rowling decided she was going to write an eighth novel in the Harry Potter series.

In early July of 2008, my boyfriend (who will be referred to as Kansas from this point forward) of 10 months told me he didn’t see things going long term for us. He said that we were in different places in life and he felt he needed to focus on his career. My initial thought was, why couldn’t you have told me this after 3 months? He said he really liked me and hated how much he hurt me with the break up and wanted me to remain in his life. He said he thought I was kind, funny and caring and really wanted to make sure we remained friends. That said, we decided to end things amicably and we agreed to have one final weekend together so we could end our coupledom on a positive note.

One week later the bastard decides to make out with a stranger at a charity event I am hosting. No longer did we end on an amicable note. This was in poor taste and judgment. His best friend from Kansas was in town and visiting him for the week and watched the entire event unfold. I feel bad for her because she had to call him out and tell him it was inappropriate to make out in front of your ex-boyfriend only a week after breaking up. He could have at least had the decency of attempting to hide it by going outside or to the bathroom. When I confronted him, he said he thought we were friends and he was free to do whatever. Well yeah but only after a week, I’m a delicate soul, I’m like a peach, I bruise easy. So much for trying to make a clean break that night. I got so sloppy drunk I couldn’t drive home. The ex actually had to make me go sleep it off on his couch so I didn’t drive home. I mean what was I to do? I am a red head with a temper so I took the bottle and got shit faced drunk in hopes to drown my sorrows. Yeah, I lost all credibility with him. Asshole!

A few weeks went by. Kansas and I exchanged jovial emails back and forth talking about the possibility of getting together to keep things on a friendly level. July passed by, August arrived and I did my annual counselor gig for Camp Sunrise and came back a renewed soul. At this point I still haven’t seen Kansas since that horrific night. September approached and I got an email from him, it said he just got back from an incredible trip and sees things in a new light now. He wanted to get together to hang out so I took inventory of my feelings and decided I was fianlly ready to see him in person. We met for lunch at Penn Station in Bexley, I talked about Camp Sunrise, he talked about his trip to San Francisco. He said he went there to visit a friend but as I recall throughout our relationship I knew of all his out of town friends and not one of them lived in San Francisco. It peaked my curiosity but I just filed it away, I figured he met someone online and went out for a visit.

We decided we would meet up again for another friend outing. This time it was Sushi at Haiku and a movie. As we were walking to Haiku, I told Kansas that my good friend Nina West has her upcoming show in October and he should go. When I told him what weekend it was, he said he was going to be visiting his friend in San Francisco again. I decided I was going to pursue the subject and asked if this “friend” in San Francisco was more than a friend. It turns out, he sure is. So I asked how he met said friend, at which point he told me I wasn’t going to like the answer. I said it didn’t matter now, he could tell me. He me his “friend” in San Fran is the stranger he made out with at my charity event. How small fucking world does this get? I mean really! I took it like a champ, surprisingly. I didn’t even get that sting of anxiety in my chest when he told me. It was at this point I finally realized I was over him and the hurt he caused me. I felt like a weight had been lifted, cliché I know. After that I had my closure and I didn’t really feel the need to seek out his friendship anymore, I sort of just let it die. Besides how long was this bi-coastal, long distance relationship really going to last?

Today, I got a text message from Kansas it said, “I’m moving to San Francisco. I’m hoping to leave tomorrow if I can get everything packed. I have your book, The Woods and Dawson’s 50 Load Weekend. Do you want me to leave it at your work or something else?” I shit my pants! I mean really, after 6 months of bi-coastal dating, he’s moving to be with this guy in San Francisco. Here’s the humor in all this. When we were dating, he wasn’t even out to anyone, I was his first boyfriend and now he’s moving to the gayest city on earth? I asked him when we first started dating if he was going to want to sample the buffet before settling down. He said no, he was ready to settle down and he’s looking for a long term relationship. When we broke up he told me it scared him when I told him I was willing to relocate and move for him if his career took him out of Columbus. He said he would never expect that because he wouldn’t consider changing his path for someone else. I am a little upset that he’s actually doing something that he so vehemently despised me for only expressing in words. I think what pisses me off more is the work that I put into him. Teaching him the ways of the gay. I was living in my own personal episode of Queer Eye for The Straight/Gay Guy. When I first started dating him, his living room consisted of a horrific couch from college with a broken leg that he tried to make presentable with a slip cover. His TV stand was from K-Mart. The only gay part about him was his swishy little walk and his Abercrombie wardrobe which he only had because he worked as a planner for the company. He was still in the closet while we were dating, so afraid to come out and now he’s moving to San Francisco to go live with his boyfriend. That’s my sick and twisted fateful life.

In my time of crisis and utter self pity who do I turn to but my roommate, only to find him playing Susan Myer at his new boyfriends house. We’ve recently come to the conclusion that my roommate is just like Susan Myer on Desperate Housewives, who like him is afraid to be single and alone. Jumping from one boyfriend to another. If I had to guess in the last 2 years and 5 boyfriends my roommate has only been single a total of 15 days (that might be a slight exaggeration). Of course I am going to dish about him because it will make me feel better in my time of grief. He’s totally forsaken the bro code and is all a twitter with his new boyfriend who I am surprised they haven’t already changed their status on facebook.

Without my roommate I’m forced to dissolve my sorrows in television, which I found a sense of reality in tonight’s episode of Grey’s Anatomy. Callie Torres is talking to Mark Sloan during a corrective surgery on a patient who elected to have a leg lengthening procedure. She said she used to walk tall, then came George and he shaved off an inch. Then when she met Erica she shaved off a few more. I find her reasoning to be poetic, she said she can’t bear the humiliation of one more personal tragedy or it’s going to cut her off at the knees. It isn’t until the end of the episode that Mark Sloan offers a piece of consoling advice to Callie…he says “Walk tall Torres.”

As I look inside myself and reflect on the last half of 2008, it becomes increasingly apparent that I too can’t suffer another personal tragedy. I can partly attribute my random acts of hedonism with perfect strangers to the fact I’m subconsciously refusing to emotionally connect with another man in my life for fear of heartbreak. Of course the flip side to that is I’m constantly horny. Either way you look at it, I’m still gonna whore it up until I find my prince charming! Walk Tall!

From the Travel Channel Website:

Tune in Monday, Oct. 20, at 10 p.m. ET

As you’d expect from an Anthony Bourdain vehicle, opinions fly and no topic is off limits as Tony hosts a no-holds-barred dinner with four featured guests. Joining Tony around the table are celebrated writer Bill Buford, “Nightlife Queen of New York” Amy Sacco, TV personality Ted Allen, and magazine editor and former gossip columnist Chris Wilson. They’ll debate the ethics of an $1,800 dinner, and Tony will reveal how he always, secretly hopes the waiters like him. Food and travel stories will run wild from Wylie Defresne’s restaurant wd~50 in New York City. Anything goes “At The Table With Anthony Bourdain.”

I think I’m getting old.

Date Night & Disco Dancing

Last night was Date Night™. Every now and then we go out for a night as though we are dating again, even though we’ve been together almost twelve years. We got the idea from Queer Eye for the Straight Guy where one of the guys gave a tip about how to make your relationship last: ‘never stop dating’.

We started by catching a CityCat to New Farm where we had drinks and a lovely dinner at Watt by the river. We then caught a CityCat back to the city and went to Friday’s Riverside Bar for some dancing.

The two hours of Friday’s drink specials were just about finished so all the eighteen somethings were rather inebriated.

I felt really old. We enjoyed dancing anyway.

Ikea® Choklad Mörk

We went to Ikea® last Thursday night to avoid the crowd of tourists who only go on weekends. Ikea® decided it was a good idea to stack blocks of Choklad at the checkouts. It’s made in Germany so they pay someone in a German factory to make it, wrap it in foil then ship it across the world and then pay someone to sell it to me for one dollar. It hardly seems worthwhile.

Not too long ago, I would have picked up a couple of blocks of MjölkChoklad (Milk Chocolate), but last Thursday I went for the pile of Choklad Mörk instead.

Photo by K

I felt really old: I’ve switched to dark chocolate.

Kitty’s got this theory you see. The older you get, the more cocoa you like in your chocolate. K’s parents rarely eat anything less than 70%. That’ll be me soon.

Originally posted at Paper Palate on August 19, 2008.

Though some of Ted Allen’s fans may remember him from his days as the restaurant critic for Chicago magazine, most of us know him from stints on Queer Eye for the Straight Guy, Iron Chef: America, and Food Detectives. But Allen has been a nationally respected food and wine expert since joining the editorial staff of Esquire magazine eleven years ago.

Ted studied psychology at Purdue University, where he received a B.A. He also has an M.A. in journalism from New York University, as well as an advanced certificate from NYU’s Science and Environmental Reporting Program.  His 2000 Esquire article “This Man Survived Breast Cancer” was a finalist for the National Magazine Award, the magazine equivalent to the Pulitzer Prize. 

Allen’s culinary talents and literary acumen have never been better emulsified than in his 2005 Clarkson Potter book The Food You Want to Eat: From Créme Brulee to Cocktails: Delicious Recipes for Entertaining and Everyday.  In The Food You Want to Eat, Ted rethinks calssic recipes like Old School Caesar Salad and Mustardy Barbecued Spareribs. One must-try among the 100+ recipes is the Pan-Roasted Salmon with Tomato Vinaigrette and Thai Green Chicken Curry with Vegetables. 

Allen’s book has a number of fans, too: check out some of the star-studded reviews: 

“The Food You Want to Eat is the book you need to own. Ted Allen is your personal guide to easy entertaining, from thirst-quenching cocktails to classic desserts with a twist, and everything in between.” —Bobby Flay

“The Food You Want to Eat is a great first cookbook for anyone and everyone. Ted knows his stuff—which are the best ingredients and what are the smartest, simplest, and tastiest ways to prepare them. More important is his friendliness—he demystifies the daunting mysteries of good cooking, wine pairing and fine dining.”  —Sara Moulton

“When I first picked up Ted’s book, I thought, ‘Ha! How can this man possibly know what I want to eat?’ Then I read it … OK, so he does know what I want to eat, but I bet he can’t make it the way I like it. Then I cooked from the book and … OK, somehow he does know. Accessible, tasty, educational and effortlessly elegant (think Carey Grant), this is the kind of kitchen guide you’ll want to give to all your friends. Just never lend out your own copy.” —Alton Brown

Ted recently answered a few questions for Paper Palate:

Paper Palate: You have worked in both Chicago and New York – how do the restaurant scenes differ?

Ted Allen: New York is the big stage, the biggest stage in America for a chef.  It is a tough market to succeed in because of the competition.  Chicago has a lot of important restaurants and the national press is finally catching on.

PP: What currently has your attention, culinarily speaking?

TA: Barry (Barry Rice, Ted’s Partner) and I have been really getting into the food at this Senegalese restaurant nearby.  I can’t think of the name, but it is very exciting. 

PP: You are a renowned food and wine expert, your partner is an accomplished interior designer, and your list of associates includes Padma Lakshmi, Alton Brown, and Carson Kressley – what are your dinner parties like?

TA: Very casual.  We do lots of braises, roasts, and BBQ.  I try to do as much advance work as I can so I can have fun.  Our guests are usually nice, diverse, crazy, funny, and quirky.

PP: Do you have another book on the way?

TA: I just had a meeting this morning to discuss some future projects.  I have a few irons in the fire.

Photo courtesy of chicagobusiness.com.

Food expert, culinary writer, TV personality all can be used to describe Ted Allen, host of the Food Network’s Food Detectives.  As I name-dropped a while back I had been granted an interview with Ted Allen.  Unfortunately, Ted’s flight back to the city had been delayed and he had to cancel several of his scheduled interviews.  Today, Ted called and I got to spend about 20 minutes chatting with him.

The questions that I asked Ted will be published soon enough on either Paper Palate or Edible TV.  Don’t worry Cate and Sandy, I won’t delve into them now.  Instead I will just elaborate on what a great interview Ted is.

Ted has that vibe that you have known him for a while and I guess for most foodies it is kind of true.  Ted has been gracing our screens for many years now.  First on Queer Eye for the Straight Guy, then as a judge on cooking shows like Top Chef and Iron Chef: America and now on Food Detectives.

Ted seemed as interested in learning about me as I was about him.  I guess that is why he is an award winning writer, because he understands that every place you go and every one you meet has a story of their own.  In the twenty minutes or so that we spoke we talked about the cuisines of Europe, New York, Cleveland, Chicago, Nashville, Africa, the Midwest, and the Third Coast.  We discussed the creativity of Masaharu Morimoto, Bobby Flay, and Michael Symon as well as the brilliance of Alton Brown.  In all honesty, if the lunch rush hadn’t demanded that I get back to the kitchen I think I would have been on the phone with him all afternoon.  I even agreed to e-mail him a copy of the recipe for West Indies Salad.

Business aside, we were two foodies sharing a common passion.  Ted is my second interview with a Food Network celebrity (the first was Bobby Flay) and I am overwhlemed with how down-to-earth to he is.  Sorry, I just had to throw that cliché in; I think it’s a law.  Now I’m going to sit back and watch another episode of Food Detectives and follow it up with an ICA (Cora v Psilakis) where Ted was a judge.  It is fun for me to see how differently I view a personality after I have met them.