Bonjour Mon Ami…

I know, I know- it’s been awhile. But in my defense, I haven’t had much to say.

I spent 11 days in Paris with my friend Renee (y’all might recall that she and I traveled to New York in April). Why Paris? Well, it seemed that we had some condo points to use that were going to expire, so it seemed like a good time to head somewhere new. She and I had joked about running away somewhere, but I never really thought she’d follow through. I texted her, “I’m going to Paris. You in?” Short and sweet. Imagine my surprise (and delight) when she texted back, “I’m in!”

See, Renee is über dedicated to her family. Not that I’m NOT, but she really takes things to another level. I never thought she’d leave them for more than 3-4 days, as she did in New York. Part of the issue is that she doesn’t trust her husband, Bailey. He’s a good guy- he’s actually become one of Hubby’s best friends. But he’s kind of clueless when it comes to everyday tasks and responsibilities as they pertain to the kids. I guess that’s due to Renee’s overzealousness. She herself will admit that she’s control freak. No wonder we get along so well.

So we booked the trip and began the long wait to our departure date. A few days later, I found out that the World Chocolate Masters competition would be taking place a mere 2 days after our scheduled departure. Thankfully our husbands were amenable to extending our absence, though it certainly would cause more inconvenience for them.

I’m going to fast-forward through the minutiae of the trip, except to say that there was a reason I chose Paris. And that reason is named Chef Nicolas Bernardè.

I had attended one of his guest lectures/master classes in Chicago last year around July. It was an epic experience in that he’s an incredibly talented chef, and he barely spoke any English,  but we understood one another perfectly. It’s not bragging to say that I was his favorite student, and not just because I was lucky enough to be the one to drop him at the airport after class concluded.

He’s creative. He’s passionate. He’s expressive. He clearly LOVES what he does and is truly dedicated to his craft. I guess I’m a bit of a fangirl when it comes to him.

I didn’t assume that he would remember me over a year later-after all, these chefs teach classes around the world and meet thousands of people a year. In fact, I was fully prepared to introduce myself and explain who I was. Better yet, I figured out how to do it in French (I had a tutor in the months prior to our departure). All I knew was that I HAD to see this man again, and hopefully pick his brain.

We showed up at his shop and I couldn’t believe the reception I got. He greeted me French-style with the cheek kisses, and hugged me tight. Then he explained to his staff that I had taken a class with him and driven him to the airport afterward. I swear- I haven’t been so flattered (and relieved) in a long time. After introducing him to Renee and gifting him with a bottle of bourbon that I brought just for his occasion, Chef was kind enough to give us a thorough tour of his shop and kitchen. We popped open the bourbon and drank for a few hours. Unfortunately, his wife didn’t join us, but her evil eye managed to follow me around the room long after she left.

I never understood that phenomena… wives getting all territorial when it comes to their men. He married her- what else does she need to know? Besides, I wasn’t about to jump his bones- he’s my mentor, not the object of my affection.

Anyway, when we finally left, he called us an Uber and walked us out. Was there a bit of flirting? Renee seemed to think so. Me? I’m blind, deaf and dumb to that stuff. It’s been so long since a man flirted with me that I really don’t think I’d recognize it anymore. But if Renee was right, it would indeed be flattering.

And you may ask, “For fucks sake, why are you so desperate for that crumb of flattery?”

To which I would respond, “Do you not know me by now?”

See, since being in the hospital and losing quite a bit of weight, (albeit inadvertently), I’ve managed to gain a good portion of it back. Imagine that. Anyhoo, lets just say that I wasn’t feeling very good about myself. And have you ever been to France? I doubt I saw one Frenchwoman who weighed over 100lbs. They are lithe, slim and beautiful and they know it. And that’s the exact OPPOSITE of what I am.

Renee and I are alike in that way- we both miss the attention. To be flirted with and wooed. To be winked at and smiled at THAT way. Our husbands could be cut from the same piece of cloth…did I mention that they’re good friends? Birds of a feather ignore their wives together, I guess.

So yeah, I was in need of some TLC. I wouldn’t have taken it further than a bit of fun flirting- after all, that would be cheating. Not on hubby, but on THAT GUY.

Did anything happen with Chef? Nah. We flirted, and I probably could have invited him back to my hotel, but then I’d feel shitty. Plus his wife was at the competition too (I think I’m just now healing from the laser burns she shot at me). We talked about a possible business collaboration and he has my contact info- we’ll see what happens. I’m more interested in his business sense and you know what they say- Never shit where you make your patè de fruit.

He’s still my hero and mentor…and I have a few. Like Chef Jerome, who runs the Academy in Chicago. We had lunch while in Paris (he was in charge of the judges for the competition). And Chef Manuel who used to teach at the Academy and recently moved to Shanghai to run the pastry department at a major hotel. There’s also Chef Yann, Chef Amaury, Chef Kirsten and…Well, I guess I have more than a few. But they all remembered me when they saw me in Paris, so that made me feel better.

This is a really boring post- sorry (not sorry- it’s MY diary, not yours, lol).

While I was in France, THAT GUY landed himself in the hospital. He had what he thought was a bad cold, maybe a respiratory infection, and it turned into Hep A.

That’s right- THAT GUY has Hep A. And it subsequently morphed into Guillian-Barre syndrome. As I type this, he’s sitting in a hotel room five hours away. I know he doesn’t want to see me, and I guess that’s ok. When I was in his shoes, I would have been mortified for him to see me. Thing is, if something should happen, I’d never know about it. Maybe I’d eventually see a Facebook post from his daughter, but no one would think to contact me. I’m a secret in his life.

It’s depressing isn’t it? To not be acknowledged as an important part of someone’s life? Especially when I’ve made him such a big part of MY life? I mean, I know he loves me (I forced him to write me a letter on my birthday and he told me that I matter and that he loves me), but yeah- we’re back to me having to pry it out of him, lol. It’s not as big of deal anymore because I know in my heart that I matter, and I think that just has to be enough.

So here I sit, back in my element, no worse for wear. My ego might be a bit bruised, but that has more to do with the fact that I was literally the elephant in the room- no boutique carried anything in my size. But I came home safe and sound, and motivated to open my shop, and that’s what matters most.

I’ll write more later- right now I need to get dinner ready and lament my life choices.

As always, I appreciate the latitude. And to show my gratitude, here’s a pic of Chef Nicolas…