Chef's Widow

HAS MOVED! CHECK OUT THE NEW DIGS AT WWW.CHEFSWIDOW.COM.

That's right bitches I've moved up in the blogger world. New address. New server. My very own dot com. Fanfuckingtastic!

Viva La Revolución!

The High of Hiking

I am so sorry for lack of posts this week but between trying to get the new restaurant's website up & running, Biggie Smalls teething, & Catcher's lack of sleeping in his own bed I am one tired widow.

Yesterday we managed to get the hell outta dodge and go hiking in Brecksville Park. A place close to my heart & my relationship with the chef. We used to 'hike' in Brecksville Park when we dated in high school. And when I say 'hike' I mean smoke weed and talk about upcoming indie flicks. Yep, we were those guys.

No longer are we those guys. But we still act like it. Somehow we managed to get the entire family lost in the woods. We eventually had to climb up this big ass hill & walk up the road to our car. Chef's Widow should know better. The chef couldn't find his way out if there was a gps system ingrained in his palm (his actual palm not his phone).

Who knew the Mushrooms were Magic?

Chef's Widow
ca. 1997


Laugh amongst yourselves.

Moving Day Coming Soon

Blogger sux. I have decided to move over to typepad. Currently I am trying to figure out how the hell to use typepad and transfer my blogger address to my new domain name: http://www.chefswidow.com. Hopefully this will be up and running by the end of the week. Until then here is some vintage vids of CatcherCrazyFace @ the Farmer's Market in Peninsula:

On the cover of the Rolling Stone

not the cover of a Rollin' Stone...but it'll do!



Well we're big rock singers
We got golden fingers
And we're loved everywhere we go
We sing about beauty and we sing about truth
At ten thousand dollars a show
We take all kinda pills
That give us all kinda thrills
But the thrill we've never known
Is the thrill that'll getcha
When you get your picture
On the cover of the Rollin' Stone

Wanna see my picture on the cover
Wanna buy five copies for my mother
Wanna see my smilin' face
On the cover the cover of the Rollin' Stone

I got a freaky old lady
Name a Cocaine Katie
Who embroideries on my jeans
I got my poor ol' grey haired Daddy
Drivin' my limousine
Now it's all designed
To blow our minds
But our minds won't really be blown
Like the blow that'll getcha
When you get your picture
On the cover of the Rollin' Stone

Wanna see my pictures on the cover
Wanna buy five copies for my mother
Wanna see my smiling face
On the cover the cover of the Rollin' Stone

We gotta lotta little teenage blue-eyed groupies
Who'll do anythin g we say
We got a genuine Indian guru
Who's teachin' us a better way
We got all the friends that money can buy
So we ne ver have to be alone
And we keep gettin' richer, but we can't get our picture
On the cover of the Rollin' Stone

Wanna see my picture on the cover
Wanna buy five copies for my mother
Wanna s e e my smilin' face
On the cover of the Rollin' Stone
On the cover of the Rollin' Stone
Gonna see my picture on the cover
Gonna buy five copies for my mother
Gonna see my smiling face
On the cover of the Rol lin' Stone

Come join my famous ass at TONIGHT at Bar Cento's Rock'n'Roll Wine Project tonight:
Rock out to Dr. Hook on Vinyl.
Drink badass wines from Down Under.
And most important...hang out with me!

The Weight of a Woman

The chef & I have a guilty pleasure.

America's Next Top Model

Somehow we got hooked and now we faithfully watch on TIVO any chance we get.
It's horrible.
It's self indulgent.
It's discriminatory towards women.
And Tyra is probably the most self indulgent human being on the planet.

But we watch it. And we love it.

Until now.


Tonight we spent the evening in, drinking some fantabulous Pinot Noir and watching ANTM (and Top Chef, but that's another post).

The gist of the episode was that the models go on a go see. A go see (for those of us who don't model &/or do cocaine) is a meeting with a designer to see if the model is right for them. The girls try on clothes and walk the imaginary runway.

It's hardcore and very deep.


This season there is a plus size model. She's a size 6. Her name is Whitney and everyone at ALL of the go see's said she was too FAT.


I almost died. Bitch is hot.


It has been a long while since I have been a size six and I am ok with it. I was never smaller than a six. I always had the boobs that ruined the illusion of skinny. I was always voluptuous.

Whitney, the plus size model on ANTM is definitely WAY smaller than I am. I absolutely could not believe that these designers were dissing her because of her size.

How is it that in today's time we can still skulk at women who are not a size four? Or a size two? Or the bullshit size zero? Women's bodies are not made to be bones. They were made to produce children. Whether you want kids or not, the anatomy and physiology of our bodies proves that fact. We have boobs. We have hips. We have ass. Our hips expand and contract. We get cellulite. Our thighs are bigger than most dudes that we sleep with.

How have we not gotten past the idea that a beautiful women is all bones and no meat??????

Women are amazing. And beautiful. They inspire men to write epic poems about them. They inspire breathtaking art. They inspire beautiful and amazing music.

But yet we want them to be diseased. We want them to puke. We want them to eat bullshit diet pills.

It is SO SO SO amazingly fucked up.

I have issues with my weight. I always have.

Even when I weighed 113 lbs in 12th grade, I thought I was a fattie.
In college I gained some weight. When I moved to Italy I gained some WEIGHT.
When I got back to the states I realized that I had gained a few. + 20. I puked my way down.

After that I knew that I was fucked up. I never did it again.


Two kids later, an apron, & an extra 20 lbs, I am ok with body.
Granted I am trying to lose a few lbs....

BUT...I am happy with my shape.
I will never have a body like Nicole Richie. And I don't want to.

I have boobs. I have a booty (wish I had more). I am a Renaissance woman.

And the women were beautiful. And I am beautiful. And Whitney is beautiful. And Tyra Banks can go fuck herself. Because if it comes down to it and she needed a job, girl could only get hired for PLUS SIZE.

And she is beautiful.

I know, I know

I'm an asshole. And I'm not prego. Just a little something something in celebration of the fool. Gotta keep the chef on his toes you know?

Ooops...we did it again!

Unfuckingbelievable.

Remember this post?


Well apparently it didn't work.

I have been feeling kinda crazy for the past few weeks and thought something might be up. But I never thought this.

Looks like our foursome just turned into a fivesome.

Overheard in Strongsville

Anybody read that blog Overheard in NYC? If you haven't you should especially if you live or have lived in NYC.

Now that the chef & I have moved back to the 'burbs in the Midwest, I have decided to start my own Overheard series. Actually it will probably just be this ONE post because I try not to hang out in Strongsville to often.

Why?
Because people still wear white jeans here and I don't talk to people who wear white jeans.


The chef & I snuck out to a place called The Pub. It's a bit fancy pants. Their wine is WAY up charged and their food is ok. I had a glass of Penfolds for $13. Apparently it was NYC prices night...

There were these two women chillaxin' at the bar. Probably in their late 30's or early 40's. One of them has a mean southern drawl. When I say mean, I mean FAKE.

When we walk into the bar the women check out the chef (he's got tattoos), and look me up and down. Not obviously at all.

They were chattin' with the bartender who was the same age. There were two tv's that were showing My Dad is Smarter than your Dad, something I hope the rest of the world can watch so they know how smart us Americans really are. Pysch.

The chef and I are watching this garbage and quietly (as quiet as you can w/ the chef) making fun of the show. These ladies overheard us and loudly asked the bartender to change their channel:

Lady #1 (in a mean southern drawl) : "Can you change the channel puhhhhleasse?"

Bartender: "Sure, what would you like me to put on?"

Lady #1: (in a mean southern drawl): "I think Dancing with the Stars is on."

Lady #2: "Oh isn't that Adam Corrolla guy on that?

Bartender: "So this is good?" {putting on DWTS}

Lady #1: (in a mean southern drawl): "Whatever. I don't watch TV."

Lady # 1: (in a mean southern drawl): "I only watch sports."

Closing Duties

Even when the chef was a sous chef he never worked past 2. And that didn't happen very often. He has moved up the ladder in the culinary world and his last two positions allowed him the freedom to leave way before 2 am. When he was Executive Chef at Parea he had a pretty constant schedule. The boy & I were alone alot of the time. However he never worked so late that he would have to sleep in (all morning) on his days off.
Now it's a different story.

Somehow he has managed to become Chef Partner at a restaurant that works him more and harder than any other restaurant has. Three days a week he closes the restaurant which means he gets home @ 4am. Most mornings he leaves for work at 9 and stays till at least midnight.

His schedule sucks. He will never admit this. But as a chef's widow, I sure as hell can.

He has been trying to make it better. Changing his days off and so forth. But all that really means is that those are now the days he will sleep in after closing. It's such a Catch 22. He has these new days which seem to work better but he spends the majority of them sleeping so it feels like we have a lot less time with him. And I am sure like he feels the same.

The Chef & the dogs still asleep as I type this. It's 10 am and Potato & Vito have not left the bed. Seriously.

Lesson Learned:

Partnering, Owning, or having your name on the sign=more work for less money. At least less money right now. I know at some point someone's gotta realize how bad ass the chef is.

Boiling Water is not Cold

My dumb ass managed to get a pretty sweet burn last night. Not only did I dump scalding hot water on my thigh but I also managed to dump half the pasta I was cooking down the drain.

It was a really fun Friday night!

A Chef's Fantasy is

Me......MEAT!!!!!!

One of the perks of being hitched to a chef are the events. Last night I headed to the Ritz for the Chef's Fantasy Cystic Fibrosis Dinner & Auction. The chef cooked a roasted Goat Porchetta appetizer for the VIP reception and the dinner consisted of about seven other chefs serving their own creation.

Everything was so freakin' fantastic.

I really don't know how I am gonna lose this double chin if I have to keep eating sheep's milk ravioli, braised short ribs, and 30 layer torte's at every event that the chef is involved in. Not to mention the amount of wine that I had no problem guzzling up...

Conversations w/ Catcher

Yesterday we took the kids to the Cleveland Metroparks (kinda like a giant Central Park) for some outdoor fun. We parked the car, packed up the stroller, and headed on our merry way. The following took place about 10 minutes into our 'hike'. Catcher had been saying hi to all the people who were passing us. Dogs included.

A woman is walking at a face pace towards us. She is tall and very pretty.

Catcher: "Hi!, What are you doing here?"
Pretty Woman: "I'm running."
Catcher: "Kewl."

Woman passes us and Catcher turns to follow her.

Catcher: "Byyyyyyyyeeeeee!"
Pretty Woman: "Bye sweetie."
Catcher: "I LOVE YOU!"

At this point the boy begins to blow her air kissses and proceeds to catch the kisses he assumes she is blowing back his way.

Pretty Woman: "I love you to!"



So apparently the boy likes hot chicks. He must have said hi to about 10 people before his love profession to the pretty woman. So so so hilarious.

Look at Me! I'm Famous...

A few weeks ago I was contacted by a CNN reporter who reads this blog. She interviewed me about the way spouses fight and how the chef & I seem to have a good thing going. Here is the finished product:

Fighting with your spouse can be good for you health

And the Mom of the Year award goes to....

Me!

for making this awesome breakfast for the chef & the boy:

Grateful Ed's Buckwheat Pancakes w/ kick ass Grade B Maple Syrup
Fresh Squeezed Florida Orange & Tangerine juice


I think I was trying to make up for my working lunch the other day...

I Love my Kid, but his Shit Stinks

Ok so the kid is potty trained. He doesn't pee his pants. He is pretty awesome about it and has done really well with the whole underwear thing. Although he does have a major tude toward the pullup.

It's great all day and the night tends to be a bit problematic. Basically when he wakes up to pee in the middle of the night, I wake up. He will absolutely not go to the bathroom without me and will not pee in a pullup. He will however poop in a pull up and remove it. This has happened twice this week and I can't say that I am a fan of it.

Today during his nap he decided that it would be cool to poop in his pullup, take it off, and wipe it on his chair. The entire time I didn't have a clue. He didn't leave his room. Nor did he call for me. In fact I found the shit about an hour after he woke up. I never went to his room when he woke up so I had absolutely no idea about the brown mess all over. Yuckster.

I just don't know what to do regarding the poop situation. How do I get him to call me when he is sleeping and has to do numba 2? The time before this was not as gross but still wrong. Instead of taking a load off in the pullup, he decided to squat on a library book. Again, yuckster.

Anyone know of any magic cure to stop the boy from shittin' where he sleeps?


PS....If you take out books from the Cleveland Library, I would advise skipping The Trucker.

Top Fives

My Top Five:



1. Ewan McGregor
2. Justin Timberlake (I can't help it)
3. Johnny Depp
4. Sawyer from Lost
5. Daniel Day Lewis




The Chef's Top Five:




1. Franka Potente
2. Alicia Witt
3. Connie Nielson (from Law & Order)
4. Robin Tunney
5. Juliann Nicholson (from Law & Order)

Obviously the chef is a HUGE L&O fan. Who isn't?

Who are in your top five?

Working Lunches & Antique Automobiles

Today was a jolly fun day. The chef changed his day off so the past two Monday's have been a family day. It is so nice to actually hang out with him and the kiddies. I think we sort of lost sight of how important one day can be.

We headed to University Circle with anticipation of checking out the Cleveland Art Museums' Arms & Armor exhibit. However when we approached the joint, the chef had the brilliant idea to ask the boy if he wanted to go to the car & plane museum or the sword fighting museum. He choose cars. So we headed to the most boring museum on Earth, The Crawford Auto & Aviation Museum. It was AWESOME, insert eye rolling here. It was like going to one of those crappy restaurants that have the oldie car shows on the weekend. Only we had to pay to get in. The only cool thing about the museum was this kick ass woodie station wagon that would be so awesome if it could be converted to biodisel.

The boy kept lost his shit because he wanted to climb into every single car and of course that is not an option. We sprinted through the rest of the museum (costumes & baseball) and got the hell outta there before he had a melt down.

We headed towards downtown CLE in search of some libations (for me) and food for the fam. After ten minutes of NOT deciding where to eat we finally headed to Lola, the restaurant of Cleveland's hottest chef (ca. 1995):

After enjoying two bloody mary's, a yumster fried bologna sandwich, mac & goat cheese, oysters, and a hanger steak, we hung out with Mike for a little while and then headed home. The kids were tired and mommy was a bit buzzed. Nothing says good mom like drinking bloody mary's on a Monday afternoon...

When we arrived at our ghetto fabulous casa we discovered that our lovely 1997 luxury Whirlpool fridge was broke. As I type the chef is throwing shit around swearing at an inanimate object and basically losing it. Nothing says day off like fixing a broken fridge.

Whew. Well now that that's over...

I am going to order some Thai food and watch I am Legend. You know how I love those crazy scientologists.

Monday's Munchkins

Easter dinner @ Bar Cento w/ CatcherCrazyFace & Biggie Smalls

Face of a Boy

One Year Old Catcher Perfects the Pout

Your Food Sucks Tyler Florence

It has been quite awhile since I have dined in a chain restaurant. Come to think of it I can't remember the last time. I think I might have been prego with Catcher and my girlfriends were having lunch at TGIFridays.

We avoid them like the plague. When you are married to someone who can basically tell you where any type or kind of food came from, how much it cost, and how chemical & preservative filled it is, you tend to skip the large corporate chains. We are local whores, I mean localvores. We eat local. We spend our money local. And we try to buy local food.

Tonight was a different story. I was at my dad's and he was meeting my stepmother at Appplebee's. I had the kids. The boy was insanely hungry. Biggie Smalls was sleepin' so I thought what the hell, it can't be that BAD can it?

Yes, Yes it CAN. Worse actually than what I imagined.

When we got to the Applebee's locale there was a wait. I immediately headed for the door. There was absolutely no way in hell I was going to wait for Applebee's. The Spotted Pig, yeah I'll wait. Franny's, I'll wait. Applebee's, Fuck no.

The boy started to lose it just as the 17 year richster (hipster+trust fund kid) called our name. We were paraded through an aisle way of fatties that was about 16 inches wide. It was like a corral. The booth we sat in was literally 12 inches away from the next table. It was awful and packed and smelled like grease.

I started to read the menu and remembered that Tyler Florence (someone I had never even heard of before the chef informed me who he was) had some kind of deal with Applebee's. I looked for his special signature dishes and ordered the Bruschetta burger. And no I wasn't drunk.

We waited and waited and waited. Finally when Biggie Smalls started to freak out our server came by to tell us the kitchen was backed up. Mother fucker. The boy started losing it (as he does whenever his little sis is sadface) and I seriously thought about booking. Finally our food came. I didn't expect it to be good. But I didn't expect it to have a slice of cold mozzerella cheese on it either. It was on a soggy burger and the so called Bruschetta tasted like burnt oil. Honestly it was supergross. I feel like yaking right now. Actually I think I might make myself yak. My stomach is a rotten mess and you wouldn't believe what just took place in my bathroom.

I wish I just went home and skipped the $10 grossfest. Shit for $10 I could go down to Bar Cento and eat an Ohio beef burger with pomme frites and chilli mayo. So all in all I have pretty much decided never to go back to Applebee's or shall I say Crapplebee's. Or Fattlebee's. Or Nastybee's. Or Applebutt's. Or just plain shit.

And if anyone calls me a food snob you can go (insert middle finger here). No one should be OK with paying $10 for a disgusting frozen preservative filled meal. Just because you live in the burbs doesn't mean you should settle for food that is going to kill you sooner than later.



*****In all fairness I know that Tyler Florence wasn't back in the kitchen cooking my shit hamburger. I am sure some 17 year old stoner was responsible for that mess.*****

La Sex Tape di Lohan

With the imminent release of Lindsay Lohan's sex tape as well as the disturbing photo's of Kristin Davis oral abilities, I can't help but think about the similarities between porn stars and Hollywood stars. I can't help but question whether or not the photos and videos of today's starlets are purposefully made and then released. I just don't understand how a woman who is in the public eye could even think of filming herself in compromising positions. No pun intended.

I am an open minded individual. I speak my mind. I am honest, sometimes brutally. I love my husband. I think I am sexy (well I used too). I have great tata's and I love me some lovin'. BUUUUTTTTTTTT....I would NEVER tape/shoot myself in anything that would be considered rated R. PG-13, yes... I've gotta mouth like a sailor and the chef is worse, but there is no way in hell that my ass or his ass is gonna be showing up on some videotape. And we're not even famous.

I really believe it is all publicity. These girls don't give a shit if their lady business is flashed on Page Six and they sure as hell don't care if they are humpin' on film. That's where the money's at. Fuck making a real film, Lohan will probably make more money off of her sex tape than any movie she has ever made. And what does that say about our society today?

I am not a fearful woman. Fox News does not scare me and I was never afraid of terrorists when I lived in New York. I do not instill fear in my children and I do not live in fear of the bullshit propaganda that the media puts out there on a daily basis.

I do find myself being a bit fearful of the society my daughter is going to grow up in. I see these girls today and I am appalled by their clothes, their language, and their life dreams. Paris Hilton is a role model and I still don't know why. The young girls in our society seem to be directionless. Wandering nowhere looking for fame and fortune without lifting a finger.

I know that as a mother I will teach my daughter what I think is important about being a woman. I will introduce her to Tori Amos and Ani DiFranco. I will read books to her by great women like Ayn Rand and Sylvia Plath. I will encourage her individuality. I will embrace her life and I will try to show her the path of goodness, respect, and independence. I am a strong woman and I will show her that she can be one too.

Why is it that these girls in the public eye have no sense of the above. Are their mothers that taken over by greed? When they look at their daughters do they see a little girl or a Bentley? Unfortunately I think it is the latter and I think that these girls will end up 80 years old dying of emphysema alone, broke, and regretful. And that makes me sad. No woman should end up that way. Famous or not.

A Day in Pictures

The End

Tag Virgin

This 'tag' thing is new to me. In the millions of years that I have been writing this blog I have never been tagged. Not once.
Earth Muffin took my tag virginity today and asked me to write my own six word memoir.

Local loving, kid toting, chef's widow.

Now according to the rules of the tag I must tag 5 of my blogger friends:


Tagging begins in 5....4....3....2....1......

Cleveland's a Plum: because she is real and awesome and I know cause I met her at Bar Cento last Saturday.

Symon Says: because I know what the first three words of his memoir would be (if he actually wrote one, which he won't...dude's got a lot on his plate right now). And because he gave the chef a nice little shout out on his blog.

Go Erin Go: because I am sure she has little time between being married to a guy in culinary school and training for a marathon.

Finding Our Way: because anyone who confronts hardship like she does is ok in my book.

Hot Coffee Girl: because she is one funny bitch.

I Just Found Out

that one of my super duper favorite actors is a scientologist. I am so so so so so so bummed. Cults aren't cool Giovanni.

The Chef & The Chick

The Chef & Biggie Smalls loungin' on a Sunday

Sometimes the Blonde Shines Thru

Sometimes I can be an ass. For example:

When we had Catcher we decided to buy a dvd camcorder. My parents had one of those GIANT old school videotape camcorders that they lugged on every vacation. Every now and then I will check out one those tapes (at my parents cuz we don't have a VCR) and get all nostalgic and misty eyed. Plus it is pretty great to hear my mom bitch for 7 hours straight at Disney World (no offense mom).

So we bought this thing and have used it pretty frequently. The chef even recorded his marriage proposal. We have Disney trips, St. Barth's, Brooklyn, and NYC life all on these little mini dvd's. Sounds great right? No. Not when you can only watch them off of the camcorder.


Or so I thought until yesterday when I figured out that you have to finalize a mini dvd before it will play on a dvd player. Seriously I had no idea. For the past three years I have been so mad at this damn camcorder. I have hated myself for buying it. And now it all turns out that the camera doesn't suck, I do.

Last night after discovering the beautiful world of dvd finalization, I skipped Lost and immersed myself into the history of our little family. It was so much fun and I must admit that the chef, Catcher, and I have made a pretty good team. Plus we're all pretty f'ng hilarious.

In my trip down memory lane, I found an especially amusing video. It was the only one that the chef had full taken control of. It was Catcher's first Thanksgiving and our best friend M was in town. Basically the chef filmed about five minutes of the food and feast and the rest of the tape was him filming his & our friend M's super secret dinner conversation about nothing. It was so romantic. It was so silly. It was a little man gay.

It's funny cuz we are both best friends with M but we both have such different relationships with each other. The Chef & M act like a married couple. They do. They are like BFF till they die and they usually speak in code or song lyrics. It can be annoying especially if you are 7 months pregnant and they are drinking scotch and smoking camels in front of you.
M & I are like drinking buddies. I know that if I ever want to have a fun night, M is the person I wanna hang out with. I don't think I have ever had a bad time with him. Well other than the time he told me I was fat but that's a whole other thing...

This Thanksgiving video of those two goobers is golden. If only I could upload it to youtube. I'll probably figure that out in a couple years. And by that time if I still have this blog I am gonna shoot myself.