There is an odd phenomenon that occurs when someone you once were friends with becomes a celebrity. It doesn’t matter that you haven’t seen each other in 20 years, somehow, vicariously, you feel as though you have become a success yourself and even more, were somehow responsible for their fame.

            I can still remember that day seven years ago when I was browsing through the cookbook section of a small neighbourhood book seller and stumbled across a book titled The Surreal Gourmet by Bob Blumer. My Bobby Bloomer, former neighbourhood party chum, artist and magician. I quickly turned to the back cover and there he was. I was so excited (thank heavens I wasn’t in a Chapters) that I ran up to the clerk who knew me and blathered incoherently that “I know this guy, I know this guy” and proceeded to buy several copies. Since that time, Bob has written several more books, has a very popular cooking show on the Food network and travels around North America in his hard-to-miss Toaster Mobile. I have emailed him exactly twice, telling him how much I enjoy his books and show, and he has been very prompt in responding, always with a personal note. (No, not just a form email.)

            When I heard that he would be here in town for the Home and Garden show, doing a live cooking segment, I knew that I would be front row and centre. In fact, I obsessed about what I would wear and say to him. In fact, I obsessed about what Jordan should wear and say. Jordan also knew Bob slightly, but it was I, yours truly, who was a friend of this star. How great am I?

            For any of you who have not caught his show or don’t own one of his books, I would best describe his cooking style as quick and easy dishes using fresh ingredients, lots of garlic, presented in novel and whimsical fashion with lots of tongue-in-cheek humour. Every aspect of food, dining, entertaining and life in general is an art form for Bob. His books are filled with samples of his surreal art and his dialogue, whether written or spoken, is interspersed with jokes as well as practical suggestions. You can tell that here is a guy who is self-taught and has figured out the secrets to cooking by hisself, which makes him a great teacher, especially for young men just going out on their own.

He is known for cooking a whole salmon in the dishwasher, but equally for his Beer Can Chicken on the barbecue. If I were a single guy, I would watch his show religiously and seriously learn the art of wooing a girl with flare and panache in the kitchen. Looking like Bob wouldn’t hurt either, but if you don’t have that going for you, you could learn some of his juggling tricks. In his books, Bob gives suggestions for music to cook and dine by as well as wine suggestions. He does suggest that the novice leave the silk pyjama tops, which are a signature outfit for him, to the experts, especially when barbecuing.

            But back to the home show, because this article isn’t really about Bob’s cooking, but about him seeing me again after 20 years. When he walked into the stage area before show time, Jordan had to prod me into going over to say hello. I knew that he didn’t recognize me. Of course, 20 years ago I did have a passing resemblance to Janice Joplin, especially my hair, and the only glasses I wore were some campy rhinestone ones that I thought gave me an appropriate Bohemian look to go with my (or what I thought must be my) Bohemian, single’s lifestyle. For two seconds, I thought that this would go down in my memoirs as one of my most embarrassing moments, but after I stumbled over my name, he realized who I was (or at least made a good cover-up) and gave me a huge hug. I felt redeemed. And I knew that every chick in the audience must have been wondering who that lucky woman was. But did I really expect him to joyously announce to all that it was me and my fiesta bean salad served in the clown cookie jar, that had set him on the road to fame. That was the unfulfilled dream.

             Bob is a great showman and soon had his fans eating out of his hand. The guy sitting beside us knew all the ingredients by heart; definitely one of Bob’s hugest fans. I shouted out a few questions, but could have shot myself when Bob was having trouble reading his meat thermometer (he was doing the chicken and beer can thing) and I yelled out that it was probably touching the bone. Unfortunately, I was sitting in the front row and had nowhere to hide. I can’t believe I said that!

            Although Bob now lives in Los Angeles, he was originally from Montreal. When one woman tried to tell him that it was hard to get flat leaf parsley (Italian parsley) here in Calgary, he obviously didn’t believe that possible. I think that it might be time for Bob to have a refresher course in living in the Great White North. Another fellow asked him if he could substitute dried herbs in one of the recipes, and Bob told him that only fresh would do, and that he was sure we could find them at our farmers’ markets. Really. Here in Calgary; in the winter. He has definitely been in La-La Land for too long. The best basil that I could find the next day to duplicate his great smashed potato recipe was a plastic package for $3.00, which had more stems than leaves, and even these were blackened. I suppose if he were doing the show in Vancouver, his audience wouldn’t have been so critical. But we all quickly forgave him his ignorance of the produce situation in Calgary and thoroughly enjoyed the samples he sent out into the audience.

            In one hour, he barbecued a whole chicken, made a steak dish, did salmon wrapped in lettuce leaves, chimichurri sauce, smashed potatoes and caramelized bananas for dessert. I know that I am forgetting something. All of this done on the barbecue. Well, he actually had two going in order to get all of that done in an hour. It was quite a feat.

            After the show, we chatted a bit more to Bob. He offered to send us home with the chicken, but Jordan and I had already made dinner plans. Are you surprised that I didn’t take it and let it mummify as a keepsake? Another big hug and we said our goodbyes, with the usual promises to call each other up if we were ever in each other’s neighbourhood.

            The next night, I taught my oldest son the beer can chicken method and Bob’s wickedly garlicky smashed potatoes. Paddy especially liked the part of the recipe that requires you to drink half a can of beer before shoving it into a small chicken, which you then stand up on the barbecue to roast. Jordan made his equally wicked Caesar salad, which by the way, was Bob’s classic potluck dish that he always brought to our neighbourhood marguerita parties. Bob’s salad was great, but Jordan’s is still the best Caesar that I have ever tasted.

            So, if you are ever in our neighbourhood on Gabriola, stop by and perhaps I’ll show you how to do Beer Can Chicken. You know our house, the big glass one across the road from Carol’s!