Wednesday, July 2, 2008

My husband, John Cobb is a portrait artist and would just as soon be happy if he never had to go out to eat again, except for Vietnamese on the south side of town.

Therefore, I am constantly looking for dinner dates, scheming up themed cooking parties, booking flights to the west coast for the macaroons at Bouchon or calling up friends to see what they had for dinner. I will drive 30 miles with oil prices at $140 a barrel for the perfect griddle style burger with hand-made the perfect burger @ Dippity's in Lumberton, Texas.

My two beautiful children are just beginning to get a taste for the perfect bite. Olivia is five and Howell is 2.5.

My cosmic connection to the gourmet underworld began on the line at Spago, Hollywood in 1998. My first task was to clean black truffles with a toothbrush. They were worth about two grand. The Truffled-Brulleed Whole Egg in shell made my head spin. As did every thing else that made it's way through the back door. The back door has always played a significant role in my life. I like to enter through the back door. That's where the business takes place, the not so pretty, the raw, the magnificent and the constant array of freshness that seemingly spills out of sinks, pots and pans. This is where I fell into the culinary rabbit hole-the back of the house, the back entrance, THE KITCHEN.

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