Austin, TEXAS, January 9, 2006 — Today I wrote a profile of a chef. And I tried to cook.

A chef is a kitchen chief, a master of many trades, an administrator, a chief executive. Of course, in French, chef means chief.

I'm not sure I really feel competent to write about food, but this article is really about someone who creates it. Writing these articles is more like research and assembly. Taking a person's discussion with you, drawing facts from the CV and manufacturing quotes for them to approve. This last sounds more fake than it is. You get the gist of a quote in the discussion and then put it down for their editing. That's how FFP's casuals for our

neighborhood weekly work, anyway, as a general rule. When I write them anyway. I have written about things in a more 'journalistic' style a couple of times without the direct focus on one person.

My chef victim is loquacious and my face-to-face meeting with him takes two hours. I call the people we are profiling victims but they almost never feel like victims...rather they are people eager for PR. I also forgot to take the camera although I think he wants to get a picture near his establishment anyway. But that is one more thing I'll have to follow up on.

I feel like going on and getting the writing done after that and I'm surprised how long it takes. A couple of hours. With interruptions, of course. From the dog. The mail coming. Stuff like that. How does FFP churn out one a week? I also get a feeling from FFP that the piece isn't exactly what he wanted or isn't going the way he wanted. And not because he keeps editing out my use of repetitive words, he always does that. I can't quite put my finger on it. But I don't ask. I figure he will say 'no it's nothing' which he sometimes does and maybe it's true but I think there's something more. But I get a draft to him and his corrections back and decide to let it sit a bit.

I have mentioned that I have to learn to cook this month because we are having a dinner party in early February and haven't hired a caterer. That is funny to think about after interviewing a chef. Chefs just cook mass quantities of good-tasting food that comes out at the right time without really thinking about it.

I had intended to shop at Central Market or even Fiesta. But it was five o'clock. Central Market or IH35 at that hour. Nope.

But I realized that if I want to work on the recipe for Calabacitas Rellenas I don't need anything more exotic that a couple of fresh Serrano peppers and this is Austin and even the regular store should have those. FFP went with me to the store and I bought some frozen kernel corn, six zucchinis (picking the straighest ones I could), some milk, two large tomatoes, a white onion, garlic, vegetable oil and shredded mozzarella cheese. We had butter and eggs and sea salt. And I bought two Serranos. The clerk checked them out as jalapenos but the apparently intellectually-challenged sacker called her out.

"Did you check those out as jalapenos?" Martha asked. (I noticed her name tag.)

"Yeah," said the clerk. "Aren't they jalapenos?"

"No," said Martha. "They are serranos. Jalapenos are fatter, serranos are longer and skinnier."

"Yes, they are Serranos," I agreed.

I think all the fresh peppers were $2.99 a pound. The charge was six cents. We didn't correct it.

So I made the recipe. I roasted tomatoes in the oven. I roasted my 'not jalapenos' over the gas flame. I pureed the Ranchero sauce as well as the corn and cheese custard to fill the things. I cut the zuchinni in half and made boats. The recipe said to use a melon baller but I used a grapefruit spoon. I fussed around looking for pans and such. I made enough for a side dish for twelve people because that's what I'm going to do for the dinner party and it won't do any good to do a half measure. I learned a few things. The result wasn't inedible. In fact I ate two and FFP three and we only had seven leftover. I didn't make quite enough ranchero sauce. The sauce was a little spicer than I wanted. One serrano at three cents next time?

There is still time to find a caterer, isn't there?

Cooking and writing about a person who does it professionally, pleasing hundreds of people and not poisioning any of them. An interesting contrast for the day.