I Heart Eric Ripert

If you think Chef Eric Ripert is too good to be true, think again. I am pleased to report that the man who is known for commanding respect while still being both extraordinarily kind and extraordinarily attractive lives up to his reputation, and then some.

Ripert appeared at his restaurant, 10 Arts, at the Ritz Carlton on March 26. Although labeled a book signing, the event was in fact a cozy cocktail hour, devoid of the assembly line drudgery of the Martha Stewart event (see my earlier entry). The Ritz lobby was wide open, well populated without feeling crowded, with people clutching Ripert's new book, On the Line. I looked to my left to see that Ripert was sitting on an arc-shaped booth, happily posing for photographs and chatting with people. There was no line. Servers were bringing complimentary canapes to people.

I was overwhelmed. Here I was going to be given the chance to sit down - not humbly ask for a signature, but sit down - with one of my all-time favorite chefs. Co-owner of Le Bernadin in New York, pal of Tony Bourdain, James Beard Award winner, Ripert captured a place in my heart with his appearances on Top Chef. Adopting a Tim Gunn-esque ability to relay insightful criticism while still being supportive, Ripert presented as a soft-spoken culinary genius who genuinely cared about both food and people.

And here he was. I reported to the host stand to retrieve my copy of the book and expressed my anxious enthusiasm. The host relayed how pleased she was about how kind he was in person, and how different that was from a typical executive chef. I attempted to queue in the small circle of people milling around Ripert's table and a kind soul offered to take my picture with Ripert. I casually replied that this would be nice, inside thinking, "yes! double yes! Thank God for you, kind stranger!"

So it came to pass that I marched up to Chef Ripert, extended my hand, announced my name with some measure of confidence, and sat next to him. Ripert leaned in as the aforementioned kind stranger took our picture. Even post-flash, Ripert remembered my name asked if I would like the book to be made out to me. Trying to get past my thoughts of "he just! said! my! name!" I responded that yes, that would be great. I asked him how he managed to stay so calm and patient with the chefs on Top Chef, to which he replied that he understood they are faced with difficult tasks and he wants to be helpful and constructive. I struggled to memorize the words and the moments, realizing how great he was.

Lest you have any doubt about the man, you need look no further than the way he signed the book -- he spelled out his name after his signature. Amazing.

10 Arts is located at the Ritz Carlton, 10 South Broad Street, Philadelphia. Ripert's personal blog can be found at http://www.aveceric.com/.

Martha, Martha, Martha

Last Friday night, at the Williams Sonoma at the Bellevue downtown, I met one of my heroes, Martha Stewart. Although to be clear, when a colleague asked me incredulously, "do you like Martha Stewart?" I responded, "well, not in a friend way."

But certainly in an icon way. Martha's recipes have provided me with great food; her decorating efforts have inspired me. There are times when I have had to draw the line at the level of effort, or as described in my "Pumpkin Soup Meltdown" entry, simply not been able to rise to her challenges. Nevertheless, she has been a consistent role model in my adult, home-making life.

Which is why seeing her seemed like the only choice for me on Friday. Martha was doing a book signing of her new "Martha Stewart's Cooking School," a large and colorful book, full of step-by-step instructions for classic recipes. In the same vein as The French Laundry Cookbook and Julia Child's The Way to Cook, this type of cookbook was long overdue for Martha. After some confusion about needing tickets and Williams Sonoma graciously calling me (thanks, Anna!) when a ticket freed up, I waited in the long but well-organized line. The store even served us samples of some of its Thanksgiving options, which were delicious.

Then the moment of truth. Martha was handled by no less than two people before you could approach and three (plus one security guard) to see you out. I was reminded of the part of the movie, "A Christmas Story," when Ralphie finally meets Santa only to be herded in and out by pushy-but-smiling elves. Everyone seemed kind, but they were clearly there to make sure you did not linger, nor pose for photographs, nor ask Martha to make out the signature to you, personally (she wasn't doing that).

Martha greeted me with a "hello" that made me want to somehow connect with her, a sentiment likely echoed by each of the hundreds of people that came before me. I responded, "how are you hanging in there," which could have only been some product of an IQ-dropping adrenaline surge. She gave me a look and shrug that to me said, "you know, it's a book signing, not prison" but could also perhaps be read as "fine." I recovered to spout my rehearsed line, "Your Quick and Healthy Cookbook revolutionized the way I think about cooking." [While nerdy, this is a true expression on my part, reflecting how impressed I was with the way the book is organized by seasons and uses the simplest combinations of ingredients.] To which Martha responded, looking directly into my eyes, "good, good." With a solemn seriousness only someone that reserved can convey in the fewest of words.

As I turned my head slightly, the three post-signing elves smiled and gestured for me to move along. For the record, Martha Stewart is more beautiful in person, perfectly put together with the right hair and lovely outfit, complemented by a modern, grey jacket. I felt heady as I left, as though I had encountered more greatness than my small brain could handle. After all, I just had a conversation, however small, with this woman, whose books grace my shelves and whose magazine arrives in my mailbox monthly, all telling me how to live my life just a little bit better. So I continue to adore her -- just not in a friend way.

Williams Sonoma is located at 200 S. Broad Street, Philadelphia.