All this week, we're serving up your stories of celebrity chef encounters. These are the results of a Resy Contest we ran several weeks back, as you may recall. When possible, we'll reveal the chef's identity; in some cases, where providing details would likely lead to Eater playing the defendant in a massive pile of litigation, we'll just cull and post your best guesses. Of course, if you've got a story that's gone untold to date, talk to us.
5) Maybe a stretch to call him a celeb these days, but here goes: This took place back in the spring of '04. I attended the Scottish "Dressed to Kilt" event, where B- and C- list celebs dress up in kilts the dance up and down the catwalk for charity (I think it's for charity). Apparently men love to put on a skirt, some more than others. [The Chef] was one of the "celebrities" and a friend of mine who was also in the show swears that [the Chef] was trying to pick him up backstage.
After the event and a lot of Dewars, the party moved to Bunghole 8, where [the Chef] is now incredibly wasted, has switched teams and is now hitting on girls. He ends up finding a taker, and goes upstairs to the little balcony area where he and the girl (one of the models in the show - actually very cute) start dry-humping each other all over the place. Against the railing, on the dirty looking couch. He looked like a crazed frat boy. (Eventually) we had to look away.
6) About 2 years ago, my boyfriend and I stopped by the Culinary Institute on the way home from Boston. He's a CIA alum and having attended a boring old 4-yr college, I was curious to check out the place. That evening we had dinner at the Italian restaurant on campus, Ristorante Caterina de' Medici. When the host sat us, he gave a sly head nod and let us know that [the Chef] himslef was seated a few tables away. [the Chef] was speaking at that week's graduation and was enjoying dinner with a bevy of chefs and administrators (my boyfriend sunk down in his seat a bit at the recognition of a beloved administrator that tried to have him thrown out of school). Keep in mind that at the time, [the Chef] was still a relevant personality and [his restaurant] still existed and actually had people in it. Not a month prior, my boyfriend and his head chef were downing bottles of Chianti [the house specialty] and the crowded bar. Anyway, as [the Chef] made his way to the door after his meal, I got a glimpse of what he was wearing, as well as a glimpse into the impending burst of the [the Chef] Bubble. Along with his CIA Chef's jacket, he was sporting... wait for it... cobalt blue ankle-biter jeans and black, floppy Nike sneakers. HUH? Where was the ubiquitous trucker hat? The butt-hugging designer jeans? ANKLE BITERS!?! My boyfriend and I were dumbfounded. This man was a goner.