In honor of Emeril

Well there was obviously just one way to celebrate meeting Emeril, getting my cookbook signed and receiving some long awaited banana cream pie advice.

That's right. Christening the cookbook.

The new cookbook is 20-40-60: Fresh Food Fast. The idea is to cook homemade meals in that respective timeframe.

I felt the shrimp etouffee would be an appropriate tribute to my culinary hero. But I did kick the recipe in the cookbook up a notch, adding in about a cup of white wine with the chicken broth and about six links of andouille sausage.

The spontaneous moment in which I met Emeril Lagasse

I came back to the office after an assignment Friday afternoon ready to start the weekend. I was so sick of covering the swine flu. I never liked it in the first place. I was more concerned about my big plans for the weekend than writing, yet another, mediocre swine flu story.

The plan was to hit the Suncoast Food and Winefestival Saturday with some friends and then head over to Epcot for the last day of their annual food and wine event on Sunday. In between would be plenty of time for relaxing and working out to burn off all of those calories.

Then a co-worker headed over to my cubicle and changed everything.

He handed me a copy of the St. Pete Times entertainment section.

"I don't know if you know about this," he said.

Staring up at me was a picture of the legendary Emeril Lagasse - my own personal culinary hero - in a field of fresh greens beside an announcement that he would be signing cookbooks about 40 minutes away on Sunday.

I was, seriously, speechless.

I later apologized to Ron for my lackluster and unenthusiastic reaction. I think I was just numb with some sort of disbelief. Every so often I stalk the Internet looking for appearances by my favorite food celebrities, and Emeril never seems to do many. Was it really possible that he was going to be just 40 minutes away at some random mall in Brandon?

My friend Cathy and I then found ourselves driving up Interstate 75 at 7:30 Saturday morning to secure our spot in line. The Books a Million would start giving out numbers when they opened at 9 a.m. and we wanted to make sure we'd get one. We got there about 40 minutes before the store opened and secured spots in the high sixties, meaning not only would we definitely get our books signed, Emeril would probably still be pretty fresh when we met him.

And then, we waited.

By the time Sunday morning rolled around I was surprised I wasn't more excited. When Bobby Flay came to Syracuse, I couldn't sleep the night before. And he's a fairly new obsession. In fact, I never used to like him.

Emeril has always been my favorite, and his food really ignited my passion for cooking.

I think I was just in disbelief. I thought it was too good to be true and braced myself for the possibility he would cancel at the last minute.

At one point Sunday morning it dawned on me that I didn't know what I would say to him. So many wonderful recipes I've tried. So many memorable dishes at his restaurant. So many stories from so many years of admiration of him. What could I say in a brief moment?

But given that Bobby Flay barely said two words to me and Paula Deen gave me a dirty look, I figured there wouldn't be much time for chit chat.

At about 12:30 p.m. Sunday, Cathy and I were back on the road to the mall, where we found our prime spot in line for the signing.

Once it started it all went so fast. The line moved and we moved with it.

At some point Cathy told me something she was going to say to Emeril. I looked at her and said: "You know there probably won't be a lot of time to talk to him."

"I know," she responded. "I'm just going to tell him real quick while he's signing."

It made me think I should have something in mind to say, but how can I convey all of my love for Emeril's food without looking like a total idiot? I decided I would just tell him I tried to make his amazing banana cream pie, and that it did not come out as good as his.

So that's exactly what I did as I approached him wearing his chef's uniform at the table.

He kind of let out a gush of air and looked up and immediately started advising me on my baking.

"You've got to really whip it. Whip it real good. Just keep whipping and whipping until it stiffens."

(Any sexual innuendo or reference to that tacky song was totally lost on me at this point. I was so nervous. Practically shaking, and really could not believe Emeril was advising me on his banana cream pie recipe.)

"Oh, I'll have to try that," I said politely.

He looked down to sign the book then stopped and looked up again.

"That's a tough one. A really tough one. Good for you for trying. Keep trying and you'll get it."

And that was it. I walked away totally euphoric toward my friend Cathy and barely heard her asking me, puzzled realizing it was too late, if I wanted to smile for a picture. I was so wrapped up in this whole banana cream pie situation that I forgot to look up and smile for a photo.

How amazing though? Emeril was just like he is on tv. The voice, the mannerisms, everything. He was so incredibly nice (although I joked we should wait until the people at the end of the line went through and see how he was holding up by then).

As we walked out we swapped Emeril stories with this girl who was in line with us. She said she went up to the table and told Emeril that she can't cook.

He told her that couldn't be true, and - pointing to the cookbook - said it all starts here and advised her to go home and get started.

More food, more wine

Tomorrow at this time I will be sippin and strolling at the annual Suncoast Winefestival. What a great way to count down the last few hours of the workweek!

Along with literally hundreds of wines, some of the highlights of this event can be found at the three dozen restaurants that participate - many of which are too expensive for me to normally eat at.

In all, it's one of my favorite things to do all year. You can buy tickets or check out more information about the festival here.

The joy of a well-stocked spice cabinet

Some of my friends and I recently had a conversation about the cost effectiveness of cooking. There is a prevalent belief out there that cooking at home saves you oodles of money. Yes and no.

The major expense comes in the upstart costs of stocking your kitchen cabinets, especially when you have a palette for exotic dishes from dozens of different ethnic styles.

There is a distinct satisfaction, however, when you start accumulating so many of these ingredients - namely spices - that you have them on hand and don't have to be buying new ones with every recipe. That's when your grocery bills really start to plummet.

Even just two months into this little game, I am finding that I have built myself a sturdy arsenal of spices and am getting to the point I don't need to buy any. Take, for example, the pho I made this week. I had most of the spices I needed, along with the onions, garlic and some other veggies. I ended up spending just $25 at the grocery store - most of that on meat - and will likely get five days worth of dinners.

Now that's what I call cost efficient.

Appreciation

One of the things about cooking is that it really helps you appreciate the art of coming up with a good recipe.

Take, for example, cooking something out of From Emeril's Kitchen, which features recipes from his restaurants. Most of the recipes are extremely nuanced and complex. Not difficult, per say. Just extremely detailed, right down to making a veal stock for the Creole Meuniere Base that goes with a number of recipes.

Same goes for Bobby Flay's Mesa Grill cookbook. One recipe for a habanero duck pancake requires three different sauces, at least one of which requires you to make a completely different sauce. Oh. And the duck recipe also calls for chicken stock. But no worries. The recipes for all of these sauces and stocks are in the cookbook.

To think these guys have people doing this every day at their restaurants.

I have had several moments of zen appreciation preparing some of the recipes for this blog, particularly when it comes to the detail that goes into working with certain ingredients. The pho was definitely an example of this.

I mean, come on. Simmering a broth for 10 hours? Who ever thought of that?

There were a few things with the pho recipe I found suspect, so while I was waiting for the broth to finish I did some research. It seemed as far as basic technique goes, and ingredients for the most part, Emeril was right on.

The big thing that kept tripping me up was the accumulation of what seemed to be copious amounts of fat in the broth, especially after I put it in the fridge. A thick, jelly-like substance layered across the top of it.

It seemed like my takeout from Vietnamese restaurants had done the same thing, but it still bothered me. I thought maybe using the short ribs was a bad idea. Other recipes I found suggested ox tail, which might have been leaner. I had also skipped draining the broth through the cheese clothe the first night, so I reheated it to do this and that did seem to skim some of the stuff out of it.

Some more research indicated that there might not be anything wrong with my broth. Apparently the gelatin-like substance is not actually fat, but collagen from the bones you boil. That made sense. Some Vietnamese people will let their pho broth sit over night and then scrape the layer off the top before serving. Others apparently keep some of it on hand to add in extra for flavor.

Either way, at some point there was clearly a lot of thought put into this issue, which I can appreciate.

Happy days are here again ...

Call it Christmas, just two months early. This past week I came in official receipt of my tickets for two upcoming food fests - the Suncoast Food and Wine Festival in Lakewood Ranch and the South Beach Food and Wine Festival in February in Miami.

As mentioned before, I've been wanting to go to the South Beach fest for years, largely because it involves all of my favorite Food Network personalities.

Although it can't boast the likes of Emeril, Bobby or Rachael, the Lakewood Ranch festival is exciting in its own right. For $60, I get to eat and drink as much as I want, with much of the food coming from big ticket restaurants I can't normally afford to go to. Even better is that Starbucks is usually on hand giving away packages of their wrapped biscotti and cookies. I can easily find ways to get the most of my admission!

The worst thing I ever ate...

... or rather drank.

But who knew something that tasted so bad could make you feel so good?

I was feeling a bit under the weather all week, like I was coming down with a little cold or something (I ruled out H1N1, despite my constant interaction with small children). It didn't help that most mornings I woke up to a sky of thick fog and stifling humidity. Just the kind of weather where it seems the only place to be is under it.

It must have been pretty obvious I was off my game because the principal at the elementary school I visited Thursday asked if I was feeling OK. I told her I felt like I was coming down with something.

After giving me the horrified "I can't believe you came to my school, already a cesspool of germs, when you think you might be carrying something" look, she immediately suggested I try this natural herbal supplement.

"I swear by it for my family" she told me. "You will feel a million times better."

The one caveat ...

"It tastes NASTY," she said, much emphasis on the nasty. "But just choke it down, and I swear you will feel better."

Her stellar sales pitch didn't quite convince me to run over to Whole Foods and buy some. I stuck with my Yogi cold defense tea. But when I woke up Friday morning with a terrible sinus headache and all congested I became slightly desperate.

It's called Buried Treasure and it's basically a liquid puree of all sorts of herbs and plants that are supposed to be good for your immune system.

I have never tasted anything so awful. I can't quite put my finger on what exactly it tastes like, probably because I've never tasted anything like it. But I believe it would probably be similar to eating fish sauce, which also smells awful and is made of decomposed fish.

The directions on the bottle suggested mixing it with "your favorite juice." But I didn't see any sense ruining a perfectly good beverage. I thought if I mixed a few tablespoons in a glass of water that it would dilute the flavor and I could just sip it. Um yeah. That didn't really work out for me.

I probably would have just given up and succumbed to whatever virus was looming in my system if I hadn't spent about $25 on the bottle.

It's also important to note I have terrible gag reflexes, which made this experience all the more interesting. I finally gained a full understanding of the phrase "choke it down."

I realized the only way I would be able to get this little "treasure" down was to dilute it with some water and shoot it. At some point I became smart enough to plug my nose so I couldn't taste it. Even though I couldn't taste it, if I thought about what I was drinking I started to instinctively cough it up. So the only way I could make this work was to plug my nose, close my eyes and think about anything else.

(My editor who I shared some with, on the other hand, sucked it down like a champ. But he does occasionally go on this all sauerkraut juice diet ...)

So was it worth all this anguish? Heck yes. I've never felt such immediate relief to anything. Not only did I feel better, I felt great. No sign of a sniffling nose, or sinus headache.

Perhaps I should make it my next mission to come up with some sort of concoction to just make it taste better.