My first encounter with Gael Greene occurred when I applied to work as her assistant. It was a challenge between myself and another candidate who lived a short distance away from her office. It didn’t help that I lived in New Jersey which I later learned was part of the reason she couldn’t see me as someone who would be at her beck and call. Now looking back- I understand her hesitation to hire me and she also mentioned I was too sophisticated for the role. She simply couldn’t see someone like me working as her assistant and that’s a great compliment.
At this time, I was about to graduate from the International Culinary Center (formerly known as FCI). I wanted to pursue a career in food media. This led me to find the job listing while I interned for Dave Arnold who was the Director of Culinary Technology at the FCI. I remember Dave asking: “Did Gael mention Elvis’ C***?). I had no idea what it meant until everyone in the test kitchen told me she spent a night with Elvis in bed, famously written in her memoir.
It took me six years after that first meeting to finally get the nerve to casually ask what really happened with Elvis. I believe to the best of my knowledge that we were in the hole of Brooklyn, enjoying an exotic dinner at a local off the beaten path Kazakhstan restaurant, surrounded with Russian tea pots, shimmering in gold and the place looked like the Russian Tea Room on acid.
Rich Sanders, aka “Ethno Junkie” was our obscure eatery guide who found the the joint with dishes doused in cumin and spices from the moon and beyond. We loved the lamb and all the accompanying sides. Unfortunately for me, I regrettably formatted my SD card before saving all the photos from that dinner except for a photo of myself. I know this couldn’t be more vain.
My first dinner with Gael came to me as a surprise, and she wasn’t warm and friendly like a bubbly glass of the best champagne. She sent me an invitation a few months after I wrote an article for her blog. We kept in touch with a future restaurant review series for Korean restaurants I was working on- however it failed to be published due to the fact the dates were far fetched and stretched out, but it gave me a good reason to keep in touch. This kept our relationship via email consistent. I got that first invitation by surprise and nonetheless it was a bit awkward and thrilling to be sitting next to the famous food critic I watched on Top Chef dissecting every last ingredient which included: the service, the smell, and the ambiance of the first of many restaurants we visited together.
After our dinner ended at the now shuttered Sichuan restaurant Legend, I recall Gael frantically telling me she had to get home by 10:00pm on that initial outing. It was during the last days of her beloved companion Steven, and she needed to be back home in order to take care of him. She did this until he departed from this world about a few months later. The group she curated which included myself, Ethno Junkie, Zarela Martinez, Belle, Peter, and occasionally Barry Wine became the sad loners circle of friends. She pieced together a group of very lonely folks, mostly divorced friends, except for me (I was the exception, because although I was married, I hardly saw my overworked husband at the time).
As our dinner encounters sprouted into bi-monthly gatherings, we became closer as a group of sad loners. We shared many of our tragic stories, gossiped about everyone worthy of mentioning off the record. Gael was very upfront and personal and she completely let it all out in our company. She told me how she really viewed so and so. And the things they did that were just socially unacceptable no matter how rich or famous they were.
I found out through her, she had a harsh upbringing. A very strict father and she graduated as valedictorian of her class. She wasn’t your average Betty from Detroit. Gael loved dolls, handbags, earrings, bangles, and most of all collecting menus and spoons. She was very proud of all the menus she’d stolen from every restaurant she reviewed or dined at. She took a menu from every single dinner. And her collection of spoons can probably fill an entire cabinet. Gael once offered to auction off all her dolls to me for $4000.00 but I said no. I was already living with someone who had more dolls than she did and didn’t want to get re-traumatized by seeing all those little eyes looking at me every day. Gael always drank a glass of water with a separate glass of ice before starting our dinners, reservations were always made for 7:30pm. To this day, I claim 7:30pm is the perfect time for supper. I learned how to share food without making any faux pas at the supper table. She demanded serving spoons and hissed at anyone who dared take a second helping of any dish before we were all done tasting the first serving. Anyone who had the slightest symptom of any forthcoming ailments, were forbidden from joining our family styled outings. Gael had a severe germ phobia.
I treated Gael like the grandmother I always wanted. I never grew up with a grandmother and always wondered what it was like to have one. When I visited Seoul after decades of living overseas, I learned how to ask for assistance living on the behalf of my paternal grandmother. She is nearly deaf and handicapped and was unaware such a thing existed or that she was eligible for government funding.
Knowing Gael made this very personal for me- and through her and her devotion to delivering meals to the homebound elderly I learned how to ask on behalf of the only grandmother I never grew up withGael surprised all the young committee members by making an appearance at one of the fundraising events at Brooklyn Bowl. I spent months organizing this event. Visiting the site, speaking to the sponsors, sorting out menu items and left the rest up to the Citymeals staff to organize. The remaining committee members were responsible for bringing the crowd and they delivered them.
I felt comforted driving Gael to and from our dinners. Giving her the door to door service I would’ve otherwise given my own elderly family members. It is customary in the Korean culture to respect your elders and treat them as gems especially as they age and become fragile. This is how I regarded Gael, but I did this very discreetly and secretly. I viewed her differently than many others. She was bever the scary food critic feared by chefs- rather the little old grandma I wish I grew up with. I coined our rides, “Driving Miss GG”. I gave her that nickname after driving her around for a few months, and after a while it simply became our routine. She went from hating the outer boroughs to loving the off the beaten pathway restaurant findings. She had a chauffer and that was me.
Gael once told me I reminded her of who she was in her youth. My ambition, spirit and determination were similar to who she was, and who she always will be to so many who truly knew her. She had a soft side very few got to sense. It took many years to get Gael to let her hair down completely. Thusly it took me approximately six years to finally casually ask about that one night with Elvis…and that was during his jailhouse rock days. You can only imagine this young lady in her early 20’s going to an Elvis concert, finding herself backstage…and later on in his bedroom. There was a lot more to the story than that egg sandwich and I’ll only kiss and tell if I actually know you and trust you not to repeat it to the world. It’s a secret that took me six full years to hear and one must be worthy enough to hear the details.
We relied on each others company- in an emotional way. I told her my woes, and she told me hers. She shared her fears, her loves, and her disdain for some folks, their food and even the lifestyles they chose. She supported everything I was into. When I got my job at Scripps Networks, she clapped for me and was elated.
When I became a house photographer for the James Beard House she clapped her hands again- and I saw Gael less and less going forward. I’m so sorry to say that the Beard House dinners kept me away from the GG dinners, but they were just so good. Well- that’s another chapter- and series of blog entries waiting to be written with their own characters meticulously documented by me with my camera lens.
It wasn’t until she recently passed away that I started frantically searching for all the little trinkets she gifted me over the years which included her favorite fur coats, her only Chanel bag, a handful of hats- including one that belonged to Steven. I misplaced two of the three hats and occasionally wear my favorite one- the one I managed to save. I also got her Bridal lingerie and two other slips she used to wear during the height of her sex in the city days with all the chefs. I tossed the Bridal one, as I deemed it to be a curse since she later divorced her former husband. I kept the other two as relics I will one day frame and remember Gael- my beloved adopted Grandmother. I knew for many years that the day will inevitably arrive one day and prepared myself to say goodbye. Little did I realize that last email she sent me on the prequel to the same date she passed away a year prior to November first 2022- would be that farewell. And it just read: let’s make a date to have dinner this Fall. Love Gael. It’s almost as if she never left me, and I’m still waiting to get that letter telling me about the latest restaurant that just opened.
I cannot share with others who’ve had harsher experiences and can only say she and I truly shared a deep, and compassionate love. I cannot answer any of this with certainly. I cannot tell you why I was so lucky to only receive her endless love- and it was a mutual sincere sharing of caring that made this friendship so very real and solid as a rock. Gael supported all my endeavors. She wished me the best when I informed her I was taking a hiatus from the culinary world and bringing back my childhood passion of pursuing visual arts. That letter is worthy of lamenting in gold leaf and frame. I later learned she too had once dreamed of becoming a great artist. Knowing this, comforts me in a way I will never be capable of explaining in mere verbiage.
I am sorting through all my archived dinners with Miss GG and promise to post all the dinners and photos in the near future. I know she is reading these words wherever she is, and that we will always be connected. I will always love and cherish every bite and every word we shared at the supper table. Thank you for being there for me when I needed you. Forever is just a blink in the space-time spectrum. We will meet again, very soon. Our lives on earth is nothing other than a mere seconds of what eternity has to offer. Love is something that never dies. And to me, you are still here, always and forever.