From Emeril's Kitchen

The 10-year-old girl behind me in line grew up watching Emeril with her mother. The two women forged an early bond watching his show on the Food Network.

The woman in front of me was a cancer survivor.
During her sickest times, she lay on bedrest watching Emeril whip up a root beer glaze for his pork chops. She'd send her husband to the store to pick up ingredients for the dish, but every time when he returned she realized she was too sick to get up and make it. He cooked for her.

"Damn," I thought still trying to come up with the perfect thing to say to this food icon. "I can't compete with that story."

Not everyone gets a second chance to do things in life, especially those things from which we get the most enjoyment. But I have been fortunate in many respects, and on Monday I got a second chance to meet Emeril.

I found out he would be signing more copies of the new cookbook in front of his restaurant at Universal's CityWalk at the same time I learned about the book signing in Brandon. At first I thought driving to Orlando on a weeknight would never work. But then I figured, why not make it happen? It would be kind of fun to eat in the restaurant while he was around. So I picked up a weekend shift to get an extra day off so that I could make the pilgrimage.

I spent the weeks beforehand strategizing the perfect time to stake out the restaurant (Lunch? Dinner? Before or after the book signing?) I called to see if he would only be signing the new book (Just the new one, the restaurant said). I studied the menu to pick out the perfect entree (It came down to a gametime decision between the rotisserie roasted duck and quail two ways). I saved my pennies, and then I waited.

Leaving my apartment, I decided on a whim to bring along my copy of From Emeril's Kitchen, the one with recipes from the restaurant. Who knew? Maybe he would stop by my table and sign it.

I arrived at CityWalk about an hour before my reservation and, just like I was in Brandon, was really surprised there weren't more people waiting. I figured people would line up hours in advance for the chance to have Emeril sign their cookbooks. But about halfway through the signing, there were maybe 40 people waiting, a steady line that kept moving.

I decided to ask whether they would let me through to have him sign my renegade cookbook. It was no problem. I hopped in the line in between the 10-year-old girl and the cancer survivor. After I heard their stories, I decided to keep mine simple.

I watched him smile warmly at the woman in front of me as she stood there, meeting him for the first time, telling him about her cancer.

"Well, my story's not as good as hers," I said when I walked up to the table. "But you did inspire me to cook."

He looked at me smiling, like he didn't know what to say to this cheesy line I'm sure he hears often, but was amused by my admission. So I did one of the things I do best. I filled the awkward silence with nonsense.

"So what should I get for dinner? The quail or the duck?"

Emeril's clearly not a sappy or sentimental guy, but likes to get right down to business. He looked up from the signing and the warm, gentile look kind of melted into one of real concentration.

"That's a really tough one," he said. "Those are both really great items."

He thought about it for awhile. Quite a while actually, without ever offering a recommendation. Perhaps trying to move the line along, the employee standing next to him suggested I get both. Emeril suggested I also consider the specials, one of which included a rack of lamb.

He finished signing my book and I said it was great to meet him (not acknowledging the fact it was the second time in a month). I'm pretty confident he didn't realize that.

"The pleasure was mine," he responded smiling. "I'll see you in there."

The restaurant was all decked out for the holidays, with arches wrapped with white Christmas lights and garland. Formally dressed VIPS (or investors) lingered around the bar and lobby sipping champagne like it was going out of style. I ended up scoring a seat right by the window.

When Emeril walked in the restaurant everyone clapped, but the chef hardly paid them any attention. He headed right for the kitchen, where he stayed for about an hour. Then he, looking kind of tired, made the rounds to all the tables, spending a few minutes chatting with the apparent VIPS. But still stopping briefly to ask how my banana cream pie was.

And that was it. Perhaps somewhat anticlimactic. He left the restaurant and I headed home. I was thrilled to get my favorite cookbook of his signed.

Oh and for the record, I went with the quail, served two ways actually. One stuffed with a shrimp and andouille sausage stuffing the other a quail breast. Served with baby carrots and wilted spinach.

It was all delicious.