This is the latest installment in a continuing series that
documents my personal quest to become the host of my own cooking show.
Since this is a relatively new “career,” there are no vocational
programs or community college courses to prepare me for it. From what I
have seen, the two most important elements in securing such a position
are passion for food and plain old dumb luck. Born with a passion for
food, I set out to make my own luck.

It’s Always Darkest Right Before It Goes Pitch Black

Wow! Life is great. I am actually making money writing about food
and travel. Notoriety? Yep, I’ve got some of that, too. I’ve just
published an interview with Food Network star Bobby Flay and my series
on tailgating (Saturdays in the South) has created a bit of a buzz
here in college football obsessed Alabama.

After a night out on the town with a co-worker I pop into a 24-hour
eatery to scarf down some horribly un-healthy food. Nachos at 2AM
anyone? I pass a table of drunken foodies who are discussing the
upcoming visit of Bobby Flay to the Port City. I’m not sure exactly how
but I got pulled into the conversation but one point someone asks me if
I have read the interview with Flay in ‘Zalea magazine?

I wake up one day to find a voice message from my editor that asks me
to call the magazine when I get a chance. I’m pumped because the last
time I had a message like that it was to tell me that I was interviewing
an Iron Chef. We have been efforting the great Emeril Legasse who had
just opened a restaurant in nearby Gulfport, Mississippi. Could it be?
Or maybe Alton Brown perhaps? His show Feasting on Asphalt 2 was taped
right here in the heart of Katrina Country.

The recession really hadn’t been recognized as such yet but it was
about to hinder my goals for the second time in less than a year. The
newspaper that was the parent company of the two periodicals I wrote for
was shutting down production on the weekly rag and cutting out
freelance on the remaining monthly magazine. Once again, I was out of a
job.

To make matters worse, the part-time gig I had waiting tables at a
cheesy Italian chain restaurant was now my lone source of income. Big
national chains are the scourge of the restaurant industry. They are a
menace to locally owned restaurants, shamelessly enslave their employees
and quite literally poison their customers all in the pursuit of the
almighty buck. And now, through no fault of my own I was forced to
prostitute myself at one of these denizens of culinary corruption.

At least I have a potential cooking show in the works. . . right?