Cooking For Ms. Right!!

Chicken Poulet Supreme!I met her at my first barbeque. I don’t mean my actual first barbeque;  as in a baby with a brontosaurus bone, sipping from dad’s PBR first barbeque. I mean my first movie barbeque, where I worked on a real, live film set.  First barbeque, you see, is a term employed, by those-in-the-know, with both pride and derision.  As in, “This isn’t my first barbeque.” versus “Is this your first barbeque??”

Returning from a whirlwind auto tour of Europe with my best friend Dale, me a recent graduate of culinary school, I got a call from one of my former chef instructors.

“So, how was Europe?” Chef Patty Hart inquired. 

“Great, what’s up?” I wittily replied. 

“Got a job yet,”   “Not yet,” says me.

“Meet me at so & so at 5:30. I’ve got something for you.”

5:30 came and I found myself smack dab in the middle of what was to become my first barbeque: The film set for ‘So I Married An Axe Murderer.’  After a quick meeting with the producer we were off to the production office to meet with – Ms. Right.  Now when I say Ms. Right I mean it in all the best possible ways.  She is beautiful, smart, kind, witty, humble, and unavailable.  Sigh . . .

It was Ms. Right who hired me to cook for Mike Myers, of SNL and Wayne’s World fame, on the set of this new movie.  To answer the question forming on your tongue, Mike is brilliant, funny, considerate, and extremely talented.  It was a privilege to cook for him.

Back to Ms. Right, since she is of a rare breed in the motion picture industry, not a seeker of fame, I have chosen not to use her real name. So Ms. Right she will remain.  I will openly admit to having a crush on her from the first time we met; unfortunately our lives spin in different circles never allowing us more than the odd telephone call,  chance meeting-for-dinner, and  the too few and far between email exchanges.  FYI: She is happily partnered with a charming man and both currently reside in Jolly Old. That being said, Ms. Right and I have maintained a strong bond around food.  We loooooove to talk about it and have shared great fun and laughter over the few meals we have inhaled together. My favorite line of hers is, “This is going to cost me an extra 20 minutes on the treadmill tomorrow but I don’t care!”  Hence the Ms. Right scale of decadence was born.

One recent email exchange brought up the topic of her discovering a local French bistro and she raved about the Cod with fresh lentils.  Positively made my mouth water and think of all things French.  She and her date enjoyed not only the expertly prepare meal, they wisely complimented it with a tasty French Sauvignon. They were happy.  Made me happy just reading about it!  It also put me in the mind to try a few items French and so my foray in to the world of crepes began.  Now the strawberry crepes I wrote about recently were certainly fabulous but honestly, they were just an excuse to prepare a plate of plain ole’ crepes to cook with later.  Then inspiration struck!  A welcome home meal for Ms. Right, the next time she flies through town.  Crepe Poulet Supreme!

Inspired is the right term ‘cuz those little buggers were amazing.  Crispy browned slices of chicken, sautéed mushrooms, caramelized onions and golden bell peppers simmered in a sauce of rich chicken stock and heavy cream.  After a few minutes on the stove, using a slotted spoon, I filled and rolled 2 crepes with the chicken and vegetable mixture and set them aside. Returning to the stove I reheated the sauce and whisked in 3 tablespoons of soft, sweet butter. It made it glisten, it made it shine and boy did it make me smile.  Sauce on the plate, crepes on the sauce, quick photo and then in to my belly they went.

For those of you notice the lack of a green vegetable I offer this:

1.  I garnished with lemon thyme making my mouth very happy.

2.  I stood next to the fresh little plant-lings in my garden while enjoying my fork-to-mouth     exercise.

3. YES, 1 and 2 DO count.)

Thanks for another inspired meal Ms. Right.


Eat well and Smile Often,


p.s. This dish would be a 45 on the Ms. Right scale of decadence . . . just saying.