Zan(Z)Bar and Andy

Working on travel guides for Fodor's has been one of the highlights of my life. I never would have had the opportunity if it weren't for Andy. Fun facts about me always include that I am an editorial contributor in several of his books. Many times, it was solely my opinion and feedback that warranted the credit. Even more work was fact checking many chapters in his books which at first, seems like an easy job. Not so much. I have a lot of respect for professional fact checkers as it can be grueling, time consuming and frustrating as hell. Nobody ever wants to give you a straight answer and then they want to know why you are inquiring. It can take forever to get someone off of the phone when all you needed to know was their cross-street or zip code.

One of the few things where I actually had personal and professional investment that warranted the credit in the book was the Fort Lauderdale chapter of his Gay USA guide and mini-pocket guide Gay Guide to South Florida. This is one chapter that I was proud to work on and added many entries for restaurants.

I was never a fan of Florida and can hardly explain why without offending those who are in love with the state. I just don't care for the atmosphere in most of its major cities and when Andy and I were traveling cross-country, I dreaded the Florida portion and quite frankly, didn't want to go. This is funny to most people close to me, as it seems when you're in the Northeast part of the country, your biggest dream in life is to someday make it to Florida. Perhaps it is the tag line that it is the Sunshine State and the idea of a palm tree hanging over your head while sitting under the sun at the Atlantic Ocean. I must admit, as a kid, Florida was always what I thought was paradise. This, however, was before I had the opportunity to explore the coast of the Pacific Ocean, which by far outweighs the beauty of the Atlantic to me. This, of course, is subject to exceptions like in the Northeast corner of the country: Martha's Vineyard, Rhode Island, and Maine are among the few that stand out to me. The Atlantic lends itself to the landscape surrounding these places and the weather that comes along with it. Don't hold it against me that it's my least favorite state, please. Please.

There were a couple of rays of sunshine on my trip to Florida, though. There was the opportunity to visit my Aunt Anita in Key West and there was the extended stay in Fort Lauderdale. I never thought of Fort Lauderdale as the destination of my dreams, but it helped that Andy's friend, Richard Gray was there to sell it to me. Not only was Richard someone I would have a crush on for years to come, but he was so passionate about his city and the inn he owned. He led us to terrific restaurants, hot spots and attractions. Richard spoke so highly of his city and did a better job promoting it than any commercial. In his British accent, he always used the word "upscale" and he sold me quickly. I got to know the city intimately, which was rare on our trips, as we only stayed in most cities for a day or two. I ate my way through Fort Lauderdale and found it easy to write about what I was eating and where.

Zan(Z)Bar was a fairly new venture on Las Olas Blvd among the trendy shops and dining spots. Richard told us it was African cuisine. I didn't know what that meant and had never experienced African food. It was exciting to me to try something new and Andy agreed it was a spot we would have to hit. When I gazed at the menu, I knew exactly what I would order after only a few minutes. The zebra-striped, bow tie pasta smothered in seafood was so intriguing to me. I had never seen designs on pasta and I just had to see it with my own eyes. Sure enough, the pasta arrived with beautiful zebra stripes all over my dish. I wondered how that was possible and the chef informed me that it was squid ink. I was so excited to have such a pretty pasta. Not only was it pretty but also delicious with its octopus, crab and shrimp gracing its presence. I thought it was such a simple dish with a beautiful presentation and I never forgot it.

Years later, I see pasta with designs all over the place. Not just at restaurants, but at fun stores like World Market and even at my local grocery. Beautiful colors, stripes and even polka dots have shown up on my pasta radar. It is one of my favorite things to buy- although, I must admit, I usually save the beautiful pastas for a special occasion which never seems to arrive. I think I might start using some for everyday dishes. Perhaps when I do, I will remember the fresh, Fort Lauderdale breeze, Richard Gray, and my trip there with Andy.

Anchovies and Grandma

While my grandmother was visiting me in Santa Fe, I took her to one of my favorite lunch spots. Zia Diner on Guadalupe Street in Santa Fe was not only convenient to where I received my mail and many samples while I was a sales rep, but was an inexpensive break from the more pricey places we frequented. Grandma could have her glass of wine and I could introduce her to the wonderful meatloaf they serve there.

I remember ordering a Caesar salad to start with and Grandma thought that sounded delicious. The salad was simple and certainly not the best Caesar I have ever had, but hit the spot. I think the dressing may not be homemade... it seems like a lot of places are using a bottled dressing these days. Grandma asked if I knew how to make the dressing. She, of course, new all of the ingredients. Probably from being in the restaurant business for all of her life and also cooking Italian favorites at home. She knew of the anchovies, which I think many people tend to not know or ignore.

This led to a conversation about anchovies. She mentioned to me that it was one of her favorite things, but people often hate them so she excludes them from anything she is cooking. She does still buy them and she said she could even eat them straight from the tin. I told her I, too love anchovies and we were excited that we had this in common. When we went home that night, we stopped at the grocery first. Grandma remembered the conversation we had at the diner earlier that day and snuck some anchovies into my shopping cart.

That night she made me homemade pizza with anchovies. She did not put other toppings on the pizza like the traditional pepperoni or mushroom, but just the mozzarella cheese and anchovies. We ate the pizza together, savoring each salty bite of anchovy. We felt like best friends (as I often feel around my Grandma). It was as if we were the only two people left on earth that could not only stand an anchovy, but loved them so much we didn't need any other toppings.

Tomato Sauce and Sean

While going to school in NYC, I lived with Sean. I don't know why- everyone told me not to. But. Sean was my first love. Remember the bench in front of Loeb Hall at Parsons? It is where I caught Sean's eye and the rest is history.

Even though the world around me told me not to move from the dorm and if I did, don't move in with Sean.... I did anyway. (And everyone now knows that they were right, I shouldn't have). It is amazing what love will make you do the first time around. Sean was a fashion design major and had the imagination and the drive to put together some of the craziest projects I've ever seen. He would frequent the clubs, all dressed up at midnight and quietly become famous among the club kids.

We never had any money, of course. I worked at Urban Outfitters, on top of my work study program and going to school full time. Eventually I picked up a part time job at Alphabets too, which was a fun, little store in the East Village selling crazy t-shirts and useless novelties.. As soon as the paychecks were cut, they were cashed and spent. We barely made rent every month on our ridiculously expensive studio that was the size of a walk-in closet.

Sometimes, it was cheaper to just get McDonald's cheeseburgers. They were only 79 cents and if we each got one and downed a glass of water after, we wouldn't be hungry until the next day. Or at least we pretended not to be hungry. Sean loved to cook, which at that point in my life, was not even on my radar. He had this ability to suddenly become a French chef and whisk up an omelet that you could eat at a 5-star restaurant. One of the best things he ever made for under a dollar was his tomato sauce which he served with plain penne pasta. He would take a can of tomatoes, some fresh mushrooms, a piece of leftover onion, a piece of leftover pepper and some herbs and spices and viola! Of course anyone can put this together, but he would serve it beautifully with a dollop of ricotta, if he had some or a chunk of mozzarella in the middle. If this was a special occasion, it would be served alongside a mixed green salad with homemade dressing.

Penne with tomato sauce may seem like a very simple dish. It is. When you're going to school and haven't a penny to save, it is amazing how delicious something so simple can taste. When you're eating fast food and inexpensive lunches, everything begins to taste the same. This tomato sauce with its fresh vegetables sparked my taste buds.

Cheeseburger and Mary

While working at An Open Book, it was easy to fall into the neighborhood's lunch choices, especially as the neighborhood started to get lots of new shops and restaurants. I wanted to try the new places and wanted to get the daily specials, so I could have something new. I never brought my lunch, which would have been wise, considering the urgency of my continued financial situation.

There was a period of about a year where I was addicted to one, specific lunch that for some reason I was not embarrassed to order on a daily basis. This is Philip's Coney Island which was only a couple of doors down from the store. Philip's was very simple- the walls were white, the furniture was white and there was very little decoration. Their daily specials would be written on a wipe-off board, usually with several misspellings and awful handwriting that you could hardly read.

Mary worked there. She was a sweet lady who didn't speak much. She always looked sad to me, like there was something bad going on in her life. Just didn't look very happy. However, you could tell that work was her escape and she would light up when I walked into the restaurant. She would say, "Hi Honnnney!" I would say hello and she would recite my order to me, so used to me ordering the same thing. "Cheeseburger, honnney? Fries? Root Beer?" Yes. That was my order everyday. I didn't want any other cheeseburger but this one- there was something about their grill that made it taste so delicious. The fries, Mary made herself, but they didn't have a fry bin, so she had to make them to order. She would put them in a stainless steel bowl right out of the fryer and shake them around with some salt. If I worked there, I would always say that we were out of fries, since I wouldn't want to do each order separately the way she had to. Often, she was the only one there and she would make my burger too. It was like a burger your mom would make and it was very comforting to me.

On a side note, I also don't really drink root beer. I always order a water, an iced tea or Diet Coke. This was the only occasion in my entire life where I think I ordered a root beer. There was something about the combo, about where I was (physically and emotionally) where root beer made sense. It was delicious and comforting.

When I took my lunch back to the store office, Michael would tell me, "You have to stop eating like that, you're going to get fatter." This was a clue to me that he used the word "fatter" meaning I was already packing on the pounds. He was right. I did get fatter, but there was something that made me go back for more everyday. Michael went through phases with me on occasion. It was a depression that would bring us into eating this kind of food and we would slip in and out of it. Michael would begin exercising and so I would try too. At one point, I joined the gym and went almost everyday. Thank goodness for Michael, he would save me from hitting the 200 lb threshold and remind me of that when I couldn't see it for myself.

I would still eat the cheeseburger if Mary was still there. I bet she is, she has worked there forever. I think I wouldn't be as interested in going there if she wasn't there. I hope she is doing well with whatever was holding her back, in which case, this would make sense if she wasn't there at all anymore. She might have a new life, a new job and a new attitude. She may not be serving the local riff-raff. I think of her, usually when I'm eating a cheeseburger.

Hamburger Helper and Chad

One of my favorite places to dance was the Eagle in Columbus. When traveling across the country with Andy, we had to visit a lot of Eagle bars so he could write about them in his book. Most of them were dark, dingy and uninviting. Much less, not fun. Not the Columbus Eagle. The bar didn't cater to just one group of guys- it was always a diverse group of people and it had a great DJ and dancefloor. They had their nights where it was very crowded and other nights where they would play some remixed 80's music. Jeff and I used to hang out there when there wasn't much else going on in the rest of the city. I remember they played the remix version of Stevie Nicks' Stand Back and Jeff used to request that they play it for me.

Most times when I danced at the Eagle, I didn't drink much. I used to just love the music and I'd be on the dancefloor by myself most of the time. Sometimes my friends would find me and dance for a little while, but they always needed to take a break or get another drink. Not me. I'd just dance the night away and pay no attention to anyone around me. It was a great escape. The one thing about the Eagle is that I felt comfortable there. I didn't worry about how I looked, or feel insecure because people were checking me out. I could dance and not be noticed without a care for the rest of the world.

One night, I was with a few friends. I remembered that I had walked there, which is quite a trek from my ShoNo apartment. I didn't think I would walk home, I could probably catch a ride. When the bar closed, I was one of the last ones off the dancefloor and when the lights came on, I worked my way to outside the bar. After the bar closed, there were so many people just hanging out on the sidewalk out front. We used to call it the Sidewalk Sale. But I was just waiting for my friends to come out and give me a ride home.

While standing there, out of everyone's way, I caught the eye of a guy and he just walked over to me, didn't say anything and just kissed me. He was very good looking and had a nice smile. He said, "Wanna come with me and my friends to have a couple of more drinks?" Sure. Well, little did I know they all lived 45 minutes away in Newark, Ohio. Oh well. I was off the next day.

He introduced himself as Chad and we ended up back in his little one bedroom apartment in Newark. We had a couple of more beers and we started talking about Stevie Nicks. He didn't really know much about her, and she is of course, my favorite. We started listening to her music and he became an even bigger fan than I am. One time, several years later, I referred to a song and he corrected me that the title was different. I thought to myself, "Wow, he has come a long way with the whole Stevie thing, he hardly knew her when he met me."

The next day, Chad asked me to stay for dinner. He said he wanted to cook for me. Hey, I'm all up for free food and happy to oblige. I didn't know what was for dinner and he told me it was nothing special. He just said he normally eats alone and wouldn't mind the company before driving me back to Columbus. Chad lived simply and didn't have much. He liked it that way. He just went to work and came home, ate dinner and watched a little TV, maybe some music and off to bed. He was proud of his apartment and he kept it extremely clean.

Chad served me Hamburger Helper. I don't remember what flavor it was. I remember it being delicious and reminded me of my childhood. Mom used to make Hamburger Helper and she would have a side of vegetables to go with it. Peas and Carrots, maybe. He asked if I liked it and I remember really liking it more than I should have. I realized that it's okay to like foods like this one- out of a box and over-processed. Sometimes it can be the most comforting food and draw on a particular memory like this one.

Chad invited me for many more dinners- he cooked a pot roast for me, which was the most delicious pot roast I've ever had. This is the one I remember most though. Chad and I kept in touch and became friends for a couple of years. We lost touch at one point and then out of the blue he called me when I was living in Santa Fe. I thought we would be friends again, but never heard from him again. It's been about 10 years now. I bet he is still living in the same place in Newark.

Hot Tamales and Aunt Christine

When I was a kid and my father brought me candy, it was a special treat. As much as I love candy, it is not because I got a lot of it when I was a kid. We didn't have candy everyday and we didn't have dessert after every dinner. My mother would sometimes have ice cream in the freezer and after everyone got a dish of ice cream, the half gallon container was usually gone. In the summertime, Mom would buy Popsicles and those, too would disappear within a couple of days. She really didn't keep many sweets in the house and usually when I snuck something from the pantry, it would be a granola bar or a handful of chocolate chips from an old, random bag. I wasn't deprived, but I always wished I could have more candy.

I got the candy when I went to the movies with my friends. Usually my friends would head towards the popcorn and soda, but I would take my money right over to the candy counter. I loved the movie-sized candy boxes and remember always being disappointed once I opened the box. Such a big box to then just put a bag half its size inside with the candy. There were a few boxes of candies that actually had the complete box filled with candy inside. You would only know this from experience of buying at least one of every candy at the counter over your lifetime. These candies are Good N Plenty, SnoCaps, Raisinettes, Dots, Swedish Fish and Hot Tamales.

I remember not daring to try the Hot Tamales. The cinnamon flavored candy had a flame on the box and I did not want to end up with something that might be too spicy. I opted for the Good N Plenty instead- the candy-coated licorice in pink, purple and white. The old-fashioned box was appealing and I liked candy that took awhile to chew, it lasted longer. My absolute favorite was the SnoCaps, basically a chocolate chip covered with nonpareils. Crunchy and chocolaty, these made the best snack at a movie. Most people would eat several pieces at a time- or even a handful. Not me. I ate one candy at a time, making sure the box would last me through the movie.

One time, while hanging out at my Aunt Anita and Uncle J.D.'s shop, Dancin' Tables, one of my other aunts showed up in the late afternoon. Aunt Christine was probably coming directly from work, as she looked all dressed up and smelled like perfume. I remember thinking how she was so professional looking and must have had an important job. We sat on the swing under the wooden roof. I'm sure my other cousins must have been running around somewhere, but for the time being we were on the swing alone.

She said, "Have you ever tried a Hot Tamale?" I said, "No, I've seen them at the movies, but they look too spicy for me." She said it was her favorite candy as she reached into her purse and pulled out the box. The box was the same box they had at the movie theater. I tried one and they were delicious. There was a little bit left in the box when Aunt Christine got up to leave and she left the box with me.

Hot Tamales are amongst my favorite candies now, too, just like Aunt Christine. When I see them in the candy aisle, living next to Good N Plenty, Jujubes, Jujifruit, SnoCaps and Raisinettes, all the same size boxes, it reminds me of this moment in my life. How happy I was to be on the receiving end of the newly discovered candy, Hot Tamales. Now they have Hot Tamales FIRE! brand which are even hotter. I have tried those, too. But I still like my regular Hot Tamales, just one more thing (among the many) that I have in common with my aunt.

Chili Cheese Fries and Jack!e

When I started at Macy's in Albuquerque 5 years ago, Thanksgiving, I met someone that would become a friend for life.

While completing my paperwork for the job, I was in a small room with a couple of computers all by myself. The door was open to the hallway to the executive offices and a woman flew in, the door slammed and she ran past me into the store manager, Erika's office. She said (to Erika), "GUESS WHAT HAPPENED, GUESS." I couldn't hear anyone else in the conversation. Then she said, "Don't let the door hitcha where the good Lord splitcha!" and then Erika walked her in to introduce to me, "Kaline, this is Lisa Reeder, she is an MTM here." She said, "OH- sorry, I didn't know anyone else was here." I said, "It's okay, I can tell we are going to get along great." I stared at her gigantic hair and her manicured nails with glitter. I figured I would make her my best friend and I hadn't even started work yet.

And fast friends we became. Shortly after I started, I acquired the Juniors Department and Lisa was my MTM. Then she became the MTM for the Men's Department and that was my department too. We worked our little behinds off in order to fix the business and we were quite a successful team. However, there were days when one of us just fell off track and we needed a little break. Lisa would grab me by the arm and say, "Food Court- NOW!" and we would turn off our walkies, turn off our phones and go on break.

We ended up at Del Taco where we would split the large order of Chili Cheese Fries with extra cheese (per Lisa's request) and no sour cream (per Lisa's request). We would take our entire hour-long lunch chowing down on the fries and a soda. She would talk me down or I would talk her down and we went back to work as the incredible team we always were.

Later on, after I had to leave Albuquerque to head on to Las Vegas, I missed Lisa dearly. She ended up getting promoted to Vegas and we lived in the same apartment complex. Our time didn't overlap very long- I then had to go on to California and she ended up in El Paso. During our time together in Las Vegas, John showed us the funniest video on You Tube. It is called Jackie and Debra. They are BFF's and they get in a fight and stop talking. This video made us laugh so much, we shared it with everyone around us. Lots of friends now refer to the video. Lisa and I ended up calling each other Jackie. She is even listed in my cell phone as Jackie. We tried to keep it on the down low when I moved to Albuquerque because the other MTM in my store is named Jackie and I didn't want her to think we were talking about her when using the nickname. Lisa ended up finding some fun stationery products by the name Jack!e Designs and we decided that is how we would distinguish between us being Jack!e and someone really named Jackie. We now have an exclamation point in our names.

I keep seeing Jack!e while she is home here in Albuquerque, but she hasn't had the time to come have chili cheese fries with me at the Coronado Del Taco. This upsets me. She is no longer my BFF and I'm writing this to let her know.

Just kidding- I miss my Jack!e and hope that we can have the fries together soon. Perhaps I will be having a bad day and she will arrive just in time.

Pizza and Grandma

Pizza is always amongst every one's list of favorite foods. It amazes me how popular pizza has remained throughout American culture. It is interesting to me that people are so picky regarding which type of pizza they like best and even where their pizza is made. Everyone is very opinionated when you announce you will be ordering a pizza. They ask from where. You say, "Papa John's" and they immediately respond. The response could be bad: "I hate Papa John's pizza, their crust is too thin. I prefer Pizza Hut, I like a pan crust." The response could be good: "I love Papa John's. I like the garlic sauce they send to dip into the crust and I always save the pepper in the box to eat last."

It's either the crust or the sauce or not enough cheese. Delivery pizza is sometimes not even acceptable. You might have to go to Papa Murphy's and get a take-n-bake pizza because we like that it is fresh and that it can be made in your own oven- which guarantees that it will be hot when served. Some can eat leftover pizza cold. Some have to warm it in their own oven because the microwave is unacceptable and may make the crust soggy. Regionally, you notice differences in the most popular toppings. In New Mexico, green chile can be added and my favorite delivery pizza can be Canadian bacon, green chile and pineapple. Otherwise, I don't like pineapple on my pizza, but I truly don't mind anchovies (in moderation).

Even frozen pizza has different assets. Obviously everyone is picky about which frozen pizza they would purchase as well. There is usually one whole aisle in the grocery freezer section devoted to pizza. Should we pick individual pizzas, three in a box? Can we handle french bread pizza? Specialty frozen pizzas like California Pizza Kitchen introduced more gourmet flavors and toppings while the lower-end versions might just be plain cheese.

Watch a kid's face when you announce that you are having pizza for dinner. Lots of times they will just pick cheese as their choice. Maybe pepperoni, the classic topping. You could say Chuck E Cheese to a child and it is like you announced you were heading to Disney World. The games, the pitchers of sugary sodas, and the ultimate meal: pizza makes everything feel like the best day on Earth to a kid.

What's interesting is that no matter where you order the pizza, whether or not it is your friends' favorite place, favorite topping- the pizza rarely goes to waste. Everyone will always end up digging in and if there are leftovers, you might have them for breakfast. I sometimes wonder if people change their favorite pizza as often as the weather can change.

My favorite has always been my Grandma's homemade pizza. Pizza is definitely one of my grandmother's specialties, but in a way that can be delivered faster than Domino's hour claim. You can be sitting with my grandmother enjoying a cocktail and she will say, "How about I make some pizza?" You run to the phone to call everyone you know- "Grandma's making pizza." Within the hour, you have a house full of company and Grandma is turning out pizzas from her oven as fast as she possibly can. Ask anyone I'm related to and they will tell you that my Grandma can bake six pizzas and still have to make another. We will keep her going while we gorge ourselves on this delicious, comforting treat. It becomes a pizza party like no other.

There is something about her crust- an ingredient we may never know- that makes it tasty as the entire pizza. Her sauce- homemade- with bits of oregano and basil- usually fresh from her garden- is so unique and so delicious that you can't compare your own sauce or any store bought sauce. She will buy fresh mozzarella instead of the bags of shredded that can be sometimes waxy and tasteless after sitting in the package for all of that time.

Whenever my Grandma has made pizza, it truly makes you feel like you're at home. In the meantime, so far away, I will settle for a delivery pizza and keep searching for the perfect one. Knowing all along that the perfect pizza stands in my grandmother's hands, in her little kitchen in Kingston, NY.

Diet Coke and Blossom

My friend Jeff and I had about a year or two in Columbus, OH that depending on how you saw things, were either tumultuous or amazing. I like to think of it as the time of my life, but I tend to be ultra-dramatic and phrase everything with a title from a Lifetime movie. This Lifetime movie would be starring Valerie Bertinelli and Justine Bateman as her best friend.

Jeff and I would get through work by saying things like, "I can't go out tonight- I'm broke." Or "I can't go out tonight, I'm too tired." Or "I can't go out tonight, I have to wake up early." When we left work around 6pm, we headed our own ways home. I would settle down in my pajamas and click on the TV with a microwaved, leftover meal and close my bedroom door. I remember thinking to myself, "Thank God that I don't have to move from this spot for the rest of the night."

Ultimately the phone would ring and Jeff would be on the other end of the line. He too, would say how nice it was that we were taking the night off from the club scene. Then something would happen. He would say, "Oh guess what movie came out today" naming some fab movie with Julia Roberts. He would ask if I would want to walk up to Metro Video to rent it with him and stop for some snacks along the way. Usually I was bribed with, "I will stop at UDF and buy you a pack of smokes." Uncle. Twist my arm. I'm in. I only have two cigarettes left and not a penny to my name for at least three more days.

On the way home from the video store was Havana. Our favorite starting point for the bar hop. We look inside and we see that nobody is even there yet. Not one person. How nice would it be to get one drink and sit in the big, cushioned booth "in the round?" And what could be so wrong with one drink? It doesn't even matter that we look like we just got out of bed because we won't run into anyone we know- nobody is there! Besides, I have no money and that's not going to last a minute.

Unless you know all of the bartenders in town. And so several drinks later and my favorite shot, a chilled tequila, we were off to the next bar. (After running to the Men's Room to fix our hair). It could be Axis, it could be Wall Street if it's Wednesday... If it's Wall Street, you would think we would take a cab, rather than take the couple-mile walk in the winter winds. Nope. Save the cash, we will need to tip the bartender if she gives us a free drink or if there is a drag queen performing. Especially if it was Blossom. Blossom was a drag queen that I can barely describe. She is one that looks like she would fall over in her heavy platform shoes, but instead in the middle of her dance number, can jump higher than you've seen anyone jump and land in a split that makes you hurt watching. She would hit the stage so hard when she came down, the sound and the vibrations alone would let you know that this chick is crazy. Blossom was an acquaintance of ours in the sense that we would see her at the bookstore and she lived across the street from me. So we would see her in passing. We all heard about her apartment burning down and the rumors that it was because she fell asleep with her cigarette burning her wig. Blossom only gets tipped when she does the split.

Before you knew it, it was closing time and we made it home by 3am. What happened to my relaxing night of Seinfeld reruns? If we were off the next day, Jeff would usually call me around noon to tell me he was starving. We would go to Union Station or Mac's Cafe for seriously greasy food. Union Station had some terrific menu items, but we didn't order the ones that were good for you. Over this period of our lives, Jeff and I spoke of being thin again while digging into our fries and hoping to get to the gym later. We put on a few pounds, took off a few pounds and this moment was not a good one for me. Topping the scale at 180, I had a lot of guilt tucked away when ordering the french fries.

When we sat down for lunch at Union Station, Blossom approached our table as our waiter. Out of drag. She took Jeff's drink order, which I think was Iced Tea. She looked at me and before I could speak, she said, "And diet for you, honey?" Jeff bursted out laughing so hard and I almost ran to the bathroom crying. But then I laughed and funny enough, I think that I took her up on her offer.

She probably did a split to redeem herself, just to be sure I still tipped her. I will never forget that day as one of my low points and high points because she made us laugh so hard. I sometimes think of Blossom and her Janet Jackson dance routines. I think of all of the beautiful Columbus drag queens and hope they are all still able to pull off their splits, flips and eyelashes.

Most of all, I miss my friend Jeff and the fun times we had together.

Seven Onions and Jan

While living in Columbus, I made a lot of interesting friends from all walks of life. Jan, who happens to be a priest, became a good friend of mine- someone I could count on and I probably, was not the best friend a priest could have, let's face it. Somehow, it worked and I learned a lot from him.

After dozens of fantastic art history classes, it was a delight to have someone to talk with about early Italian artists and masterpieces created for so many Catholic churches. Later, while living in Santa Fe, I got to show Jan some incredible pieces of art in some of the most unique, desert churches. We compared Our Lady of Guadalupe paintings and we each had our preference for what we thought must be the authentic costume for such a famous figure in New Mexico. He would visit Rome almost annually and would bring back all sorts of postcards, books and pictures for me to go through.

Back in Ohio, Jan showed me so many great things about the Midwest- namely fine dining. I was at a point in my life where my budget allowed for an occasional cafe-purchased coffee and perhaps a small order of fries. I have many ways of dealing with things I cannot afford and the most common is to ignore them. I pretend they are not there so the temptation will slowly fade away. Jan used to pick me up and whisk me to one of Cameron Mitchell's hot spots, the North Market, Barcelona and most often, the classic Lindey's in German Village.

Jan knew even the valet guys at Lindey's because he frequented the restaurant so often and he would always order something that I always thought made his taste quite exquisite. Something like Beef Carpaccio or Tartare. He consistently ordered the same thing wherever he went and I would harp that he should begin to branch out and try something new. No such luck. Each restaurant on his list had a dish that he would order every time he ate there- and if they stopped making the dish, he would probably have no reason to visit anymore. At the time, I couldn't understand this habitual ordering and now I find myself doing the same thing.

The one item at Lindey's that Jan would always order was a martini with seven cocktail onions. Every single time the waiter approached the table, he would say, "SEVEN, there must be SEVEN onions." When the waiter returned with his drink, he would count to be sure there were seven onions. I remember commenting in a young, snotty kind of way, "Jan, isn't that a BIT excessive?!" I also remember thinking that they can hardly fit a full drink's worth of alcohol into the glass if it is stuffed with so many onions. He replied, "It is incredibly excessive, perhaps, but it is what I want." And he truly did want that drink- he would send it back if there was an onion less or an onion more- I have seen it happen.

I haven't spoken to Jan in quite some time- but I do wonder often if he still visits Lindey's all of these years later and if he orders the Seven Onion Martini.

Meatballs Pizziola A La Uncle Terry and Uncle Terry

My Uncle Terry, who is also my Godfather, has always been a terrific cook. For as long as I can remember, he has been involved with the VFW in Kingston, NY and has had to spend many weekends cooking in the kitchen there for a patron who rented the hall for a party. Sometimes I would see my Aunt Christine and she would be alone. She'd say he has been in the kitchen since 7am making tomato sauce, sausage and peppers, spaghetti, meatballs, baked ziti- you name it, he had been cooking all day. I couldn't imagine anyone cooking for that long until I spent the day with him once to see what all the fuss was about.

I suppose the reason I couldn't imagine it taking all day is because I couldn't imagine how much tomato sauce one would have to make for a party of 100 people. I was floored when I saw the giant pots and pans he was using. It wasn't a pot of tomato sauce, it was a vat. One of my uncle's many talents is that not only can he make homemade tomato sauce for 100 people, but he makes it taste delicious. If you have ever tried to double or triple recipes, you know what I am talking about- it is difficult to keep the integrity of the recipe when adding so much together at once. My uncle has a knack for making gallons of food at a time.

I used to be invited over for corned beef and cabbage over St. Patrick's Day. I didn't make it over there too many times, but the fragrant cabbage would take over their house and you would have to wait until Uncle Terry told you it was ready. Again- large amounts of food for so many people, but tasted as if he had made it just for you.

One time my Aunt Christine and Uncle Terry came to Columbus to visit me and my family. My sisters particularly loved when Uncle Terry visited, he was always so much fun with the kids and they were young enough to appreciate all of Uncle Terry's many characters he portrayed- most notably, the "Tickle Monster." He is definitely a kid at heart and would take them on a shopping spree at the Toys R Us and let them pick out whatever they wanted. You could tell this was his favorite thing to do because he loved to see their reaction. They would look at him in disbelief and cry, "ANYTHING?!" He would say, "Whatever you want, you get." It was like Uncle Terry turned into Santa Claus for an hour.

During this trip, it wasn't long before he needed to make a trip to the grocery. Not just any trip- he came home with a week's full of groceries to make us one dinner. This was always my favorite part of the visit because I could watch him cook and learn new things in the kitchen. And because Uncle Terry was used to cooking in such quantity, there was bound to be leftovers for me to take to my apartment fridge. He had been talking about a surprise meatball that he was going to cook up for us that night, and nobody knew what could be different about a meatball.

Uncle Terry made his classic meatballs and sauce, but this time put a twist on the recipe. When you took a bite out of the meatball, you would be greeted with melted mozzarella cheese and pepperoni! This was an innovation nobody at my house had ever seen- it was like a pizza in a meatball. Soon after, the recipe was deemed Meatballs Pizziola A La Uncle Terry and it is a recipe that will never be forgotten. I never did get to take leftovers home that night- all of them were eaten. I often speak about delivery pizza chains and how if they could find another place to put extra cheese, they would. They are constantly doing two-layer pizzas with cheese in between, stuffed crust and cheesy bread. Perhaps if they thought of another place to put pizza, they would be sitting on a goldmine. Putting pizza inside a meatball is one of my all-time favorite dishes!

Tabasco Sauce and Dad

I was almost through my entire childhood before I realized my grandmother was Mexican, hence my Dad was Mexican. Of course, this made me Mexican too. I wasn't lucky enough to get the beautiful, darker complexion that they have. I used to say that my Mom is Scotch/Irish and so my complexion is like Selena. The reason I never realized that my grandmother was part Mexican is because she married an Italian and she always cooked Italian food religiously. I knew her mother was Italian and taught her to cook many of her specialties.

I always knew that my father appreciated spicy foods, but when I discovered our Mexican heritage, it all made sense. I remember as a child, my father always had to have a bottle of Tabasco at the dinner table and he would be quite liberal with the sauce. He would put it on most things on his plate. My brother and I marveled at our Dad's ability to consume large amounts of super spicy foods. We used to coax him into letting us try putting Tabasco onto our food. It usually didn't work because he knew it would be too much for us to handle and the food would then go to waste. Instead, he would let us try something off his plate. Mom would inevitably get up from the table to refill our glasses with water as she easily predicted what would happen. We wondered how our father could handle eating food with that much hot sauce drowning the plate.

As we grew a little older, we realized that we could never compete with Dad's preference for spicy foods. Instead, it became a challenge to find a hot sauce that Dad couldn't stomach. Anywhere I traveled I brought home sauces with names like, "New Orleans' So Hot It Makes You Crazy" sauce or "FIRE!" We would pick up any kind of sauce to see if it would stump Dad. Nothing ever did, though. Not only could Dad not be stumped, but we would be amazed at how his facial expression would not even change when he tasted the samples we set before him. I finally gave up.

Much later in my life, I realize now that I, too, enjoy spicy foods and tend to keep the Tabasco sauce nearby. I'm not afraid to try many of the spicy versions of food that I never could handle as a child. Living in New Mexico, I have found so many foods of the spicy persuasion that are now among my favorites. I think I can finally say that I can probably handle the plates my father used to scarf down for dinner. A lifetime searching for things to stump him has only made my taste buds stronger. Now I am just like my Dad.