Schwag and the French Kiss?

When I got an email last week from the World's Best Boyfriend with this in the subject line: FW: Celebrate with Jacques Pepin, I nearly fell out of my chair. Opening the email revealed an invitation from KQED, the local broadcasting station, advertising a reception and book signing celebrating Jacques Pepin's new book. My reply to the email was eloquent, for sure. It went a little something like, "OMG, OMG, I LOVE him!!! We HAVE to go!!"

So the WBB reserved us two places, arranged to take the afternoon off of work, and proceeded to make jokes for a week straight about whether or not I was going to try to make out with the legendary chef right in front of him. The week went on, me getting more and more excited, him wondering more and more if I was really going to end up sitting on Jacques' lap.

The day of the signing we arrived at the restaurant a little bit early and scoped the scene. Beautiful space, waiters passing wine (Robert Mondavi Solaire Cabernet and Chardonnay - eh...) and the sign in table was loaded with bright orange gift bags. It was like my dream come true. Wine, a famous chef, and schwag? Awesome.

We signed in, grabbed our gift bag ("One bag per couple is bullshit!" I hissed into WBB's ear. He agreed.), and we settled down at a big, round table and happily nibbled on the passed food and sipped the wine. Soon it was time to line up to get our books signed. We approached the table, camera in hand, and when it was my turn I went around the table to pose for a picture.

"I have to tell you," I began, "my boyfriend is afraid that I'm going to give you a big kiss!"

Jacques let out a soft chuckle and said in his rich, warm French accent, "Well, I'm not afraid of that!" just as WBB snapped the picture.

It was priceless. Then he signed my book.

To Karen - Happy Cooking! Jacques Pepin

Sigh. Oh well. I've never been crazy about the name Erin, anyway.