I have a love.

Today at work, a coworker told a dismaying story about my very favorite chef in Chicago, the chef whose food is so wonderful and immediate, it silenced both me and Stefan the first time we ate it, and it has continued since to be my very favorite culinary indulgence. I know that chefs are notorious for being petulant egomaniacs, and this story was no exception to that stereotype, but while she was all, “Rick Bayless killed Bernardo!” I was like, “When love comes so strong, there is no right or wrong!” I wanted to be on her side, I did, I wanted to be horrified by his gauche behavior and dismiss him entirely for playing the Do You Know Who I Am card, which is always a terrible idea because it always backfires, but it isn’t true, not for me, it’s true for her, not for me, I heard her words, and in my head, I know they’re smart, but my heart! Haily, but my heart knows you’re wrong. Your love is your life.


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