times they are a changing

So. I took a little break. I wouldn’t say it was a conscious decision, necessarily. Life, as it sometimes does, interceded. Distracted. Took up more time than I had anticipated. I had wandered back into the business world full time, full of hope and promise and came out the other end uninspired and unfulfilled. Disappointed in people and their promises. If there’s one thing I know for certain, it’s to not stay in a situation that makes me unhappy. I was too busy to cook; didn’t want to cook and things weren’t turning out anyway. So I made some changes.

I left that job. I went to China. I bought a plane ticket to France. I spent more time with my friends, my family – those amazing, hilarious and supportive people in my life that I didn’t have enough time for over the last year and who are too wonderful to say “I told you so.”  After a heartbreaking death in the family, I spent a lot of time thinking about life, loss and love. And I started cooking again, cooking for me. I think I’m back on track or getting there anyway.

 

In June through a serendipitous series of events, I found myself cooking at a women’s chef event in Beijing, a last minute replacement for a friend. There, I met an amazing group of female chefs from around the world and was reminded of how much I enjoy cooking – for me, for other people and just being with others in this industry. These women were cool – funny, supportive of each other and downright amazing. Women who could run a kitchen calmly and peacefully yet with a firm hand and cook their asses off.  Each night after service, we would wander out of the air conditioned hotel into the chaos that is Beijing. We saw, we ate, we marveled and we laughed. Oh boy, did we laugh. It was fantastic. It was exactly what I needed, what my soul needed. And now I have 9 new friends in 8 new places to visit.

Then a week later, not even close to being over my jetlag, I left for France. As I do when things are slow and I feel the need for a little grounding, I hid out at Camont for a few weeks, my friend Kate Hill’s culinary retreat in Southwest France. I delighted in endless fields of sunflowers, the unconditional love of a big goofy dog, beautiful little villages, jewelbox markets, the Tour de France and good friends. I stalked the resident baby ducks every morning with my camera, weeded the garden and poked through countless broccantes looking for new treasures. I spent a few days in Paris with good friends and laughed and ate and laughed some more. And I cooked. Nothing overly wrought or fancy, just good honest and delicious food. I rediscovered my love of eclairs, cultured butter with big chunky sea salt, the magical powers of duck fat and the cocktail hour.

And now I’m back, in my chaotic Chicago apartment packed with too much stuff, seemingly endless piles of laundry, an over packed freezer, messy table tops, too many unread magazines and funny enough, I feel level again. I have a new appreciation of my renegade lifestyle and a better focus on where I want to take my career. The little things that used to stress me out don’t really matter anymore. I’m messy. Who cares? There’s plenty of space under my bed to shove crap when necessary.

And I’m cooking again. The ideas are flowing and things are turning out pretty great. I have several recipe development projects in the works and am helping a friend with her cookbook. And you know what? I’m really enjoying it. To be frank, I’m really good at this and it makes me happy.

Inspiration is coming from all angles. My little garden plot has absolutely delighted me this year, exploding with a profusion of tomatoes, the plants two feet taller than I and three feet taller than anyone else’s. This is infinitely pleasing to me. And I taught my best friends 11-year old daughter how to make pasta. From scratch. And she loved it. Win!

So. I’m back. And I’ve got some things in mind. Just you wait.

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