How I Learned to Love Life...and Food

A friend of mine is compiling an unusual memoir for publication. He is having each of his close friends write an essay about him. He will then edit and compile this collection.

Though it may sound like the machinations of an egomaniac, let me assure you that it is not. My friend, who I will call Randy, as not to expose his tome before its time, has truly had an exceptional life that SHOULD be documented. I can hardly wait to read the finished product.

Randy recently asked me to participate in this project. It was a quiet Sunday and mi esposo had gone fishing, so I set my hand to writing Randy's story.

Randy and I had many adventures in Chicago in the early 1990's, but as I continued my rough draft I realized that many of our adventures were culinary in nature. Randy took me to my first Oktoberfest, taught me what "tapas" meant, and explained why Chicagoans were so passionate about their deep-dish pizza. He exposed me to authentic Mexican, Thai, and Polish food for the first time in my nineteen years. Previously, I was one of those vegetarians who barely tolerated vegetables. I basically lived on noodles, potatoes, and cheese sandwiches...that was all I knew of food. Randy showed me new flavors and enabled me to develop a palate.

And then, there were the evenings "in" with Randy. For a time, Randy was my only friend in Chicago. I didn't know a soul, so every weekend was spent carousing with my sole pal. Randy lived with a brother who was almost NEVER home minding his swank abode. So, on weekend nights, we had the kitchen to ourselves. On Friday nights, after commuting there from work (Randy) and school (me) we were half-starved by the time we hit the doorstep. We began a game in his brother's kitchen of seeing what we could create with ingredients already in the pantry. It was almost a dare to see who would eat what. We came up with as many flashes of brilliance as we did bouts of nausea. But it was FUN.

In fact, everything with Randy was fun. He had a "joie de vivre" that was positively infectious. He never said no to anything. He seemed to know everyone, not just in town, but in the world. Sometimes, I suspected he exaggerated his tales, but he was so gung-ho about everything that there just had to be a reason. I was an awkward, shy, lonely kid going through extraordinary growing pains, but I just followed his lead. Eventually, I caught on that I, too, was put here to seize the day and value every moment given to me.

As time wore on, I tried out Randy's style for myself. Classes got more interesting. Life suddenly showed me opportunities. Food tasted better. Everything, in some strange way, was a gift.

Up until the moment Randy asked me to write for his book project, I never considered the influence he had on me. I can see now, that it's no accident that I cook for a living. Those Friday's in his brother's kitchen taught me that food and life is one big, exciting experiment.