No, what I wished to be was a star.
However not simply any sort of star. Not a Fanny-Brice-becomes-a-huge-Ziegfeld-star sort of star. Not even a Barbra-Streisand-enjoying-Fanny-Brice-becoming-a-huge-Ziegfeld-star sort of star. I wished to be the brightest star within the firmament of all stardom. I’m not speaking elementary-school goals right here. Each child needs to be the star of the category play. I’m speaking kindergarten goals. Even youthful. Should you ask my mom, I’m fairly positive she’d say I used to be being a diva at beginning, as a result of it took 18 hours of screaming labor for me to make my debut.
And for these first blissful years, I used to be the article of everybody’s affection: dad and mom, godparents, grandparents, and neighbors. I took on the mantle of the household jester. And heavy is the top that wears the pillowcase hat.
My shtick? Goofy faces, foolish pratfalls, singing into my father’s comb whereas he was attempting to observe the night information. However, as I describe in my memoir, Notes on a Banana: A Memoir of Meals, Love, and Manic Despair, all that got here to a halt when my cousin Wayne was born once I was 5.
“In a single day, nobody [seemed] to care anymore…As a substitute, I used to be met with a fast nod and a distracted “Uh-huh,” as everybody leaned in to coo on the swaddle in my godmother’s arms.
Attempting more durable was my solely possibility. I rehearsed and rehearsed Tommy James and the Shondells’ tune “Hanky Panky,” choreographing the quantity with two of the neighborhood women as backup singers. We practiced the dances we noticed on Saturday afternoon TV—the Monkey, the Frug, and the Watusi. Their arms oscillated double-time, legs kicked, asses wriggled.
When household, neighbors, and my godfather’s buddies—tough-looking males with knots of muscle mass wrestling underneath their T-shirts, and their skinny wives with lipstick the colour of pink cake frosting—arrived carrying gigantic wrapped presents for Wayne, I ran to the entrance of the porch, sending the women to the again.
I began: “My child does the hanky panky!”
“Yeah, my child does the hanky panky!” The ladies repeated.
As I sang, I walked down the steps, arms out, touching every step with my toe first like I’d seen on TV. All of them simply waved and hurried previous, the ladies’s excessive heels clicking Morse code on the pavement—“S-o-r-r-y, . n-o-t . t-o-d-a-y, . D-a-v-i-d.”
Was I daunted? Puh-lease. It took 16 extra years and numerous performances, however I ended up in Carnegie-Mellon College’s theater program in 1981. (That’s my theater headshot on prime.)
And at CMU, it took me only a yr and a great old school nervous breakdown (chapters 17 to twenty in “Banana“) to study it wasn’t performing or singing or performing I wished, however stardom. Fame. Pure unconditional love of tens of millions. I wished auditoriums to face and cheer once I stepped on stage; followers to pretty catapult themselves over vehicles and busses in New York Metropolis site visitors to get my autograph; my face, three tales tall, to loom over Occasions Sq. and Hollywood Boulevard. I wished to be a male EGOT (Emmy, Grammy, Oscar, and Tony) winner, second solely to the incomparable composer Richard Rodgers.
However well-known for what, although? I didn’t know. I simply wished it. And I used to be optimistic once I received it, I’d really feel profitable, entire, and healed. This was the early ’80s, keep in mind, and there was no such factor as being well-known with out some variety of expertise hooked up. It took the Kardashians to invent fame for fame’s sake.
Life has a humorous means of beating the foolish out of you over time. After dropping out of CMU, I went on to turn into a waiter (apparent profession transfer), past-life regressionist (we are able to speak about that later, Ms. Maclaine), then onto the writerly a part of my life: promoting copywriter, meals author, and founding father of this web site. My untethered (some would say “unhinged”) goals of being a star have been folded away, grandiose fantasies shrunk to human dimension. I changed my lust for fame with a great life with The One, my unlawfully wedded husband, and our furbabies.
That’s till Aella and Roxie entered our lives.
Aella and Roxie have been TV manufacturing companions. Aella was brusque and all enterprise. Roxie was the personable one. They discovered us by way of a good friend of a good friend of a publicist. Our good friend urged we “take a gathering” over Skype to see if all of us favored one another. Didn’t individuals ever simply have conferences anymore, I questioned.
The One and I squeezed into the body. We have been frantic, speaking over one another, flinging the zingers, all to make them snigger. We will need to have seemed like two determined chipmunks on pace. However beneath all of it, I might really feel the engine of my fame-lust turning over. Settle down, David, I reminded myself. It’s solely a gathering.
“What sort of present have been you considering of?” Aella requested.
The One and I had rehearsed this. We had it down chilly. “Neither of us needs a cook-and-look present,” I stated, referring to these packages the place the hosts dump, stir, fry, and sauté, whereas telling drained anecdotes to fill time.
“We’d like a extra reality-type TV present,” The One added.
“Assume The Actual Housewives of Orange County with out the botox or silicone meets The Barefoot Contessa,” I stated. “Actual however instructional and humorous.”
“And we’ve an excellent title,” The One beamed. He’d provide you with it, and I agreed with him; it was unbelievable. He paused so they may take it in: “Two Hungry Homos.”
Silence.
Lastly, a single “huh….” from Roxie.
“Properly, we are able to all the time work on the title,” I interjected, not eager to derail the entire mission over a title.
“Allow us to give it some thought and run it by some colleagues, okay?” Aella stated. Roxie defined they have been going to some kind of conference of TV manufacturing firms and producers. If the concept sparked some curiosity, they’d get again to us. And that was it. The whole lot of the assembly.
“I knew this was going to occur,” I stated to The One. I’d heard of manufacturing firms listening to pitches from gullible people and turning them down. Then the subsequent factor you understand–growth!–their present’s on the air with different expertise. I imagined Two Hungry Homos on Meals Community with A-lister gays, like Neil Patrick Harris and David Burka.
The following few days have been Xanax territory for me. I vacillated between imagining The One and me successful Emmy Awards for greatest culinary present to me hurling myself off the roof after watching Harris and Burka starring in our present.
Just a few days later we received a breathless name from Aella and Roxie.
“We’re right here on the conference, and also you’ll by no means guess what!” stated Aella.
“By no means!” Roxie reiterated.
“What, WHAT??!” The One and I pleaded.
“Properly…,” Aella began then paused to construct the suspense. “…we talked up your present….”
Pause.
“And?”
“And…are you positive you’re prepared?”
“Aella, backside line!” The One barked.
“Al Roker’s manufacturing firm, Meals Community Canada, and a brand new life-style channel expressed curiosity.”
“Bounce again and get out of city,” I stated. “Are you critical? Actually?”
“Completely,” added Roxie. “However keep in mind, that is simply curiosity. It means nothing until they purchase it.”
“So what’s subsequent?” The One requested.
“A down-and-dirty pilot. As quickly as we get again, we’ll work up a remedy,” Aella stated.
“Oh, one factor: David, do you’ve gotten a chef good friend you might rope into being within the pilot?” requested Roxie.
I flipped by way of my psychological Rolodex. I had written the publication for Marcus Samuelsson’s restaurant Aquavit. No, he wouldn’t keep in mind me. I’d been a entrance waiter at Jean-Georges Vongerichten’s first U.S. place, Restaurant Lafayette. I knew he’d keep in mind me, however be on my TV present? Nah, he’d by no means do it. Too far of a step down for him. I’d been a visitor on Emeril Lagasse’s present, The Essence of Emeril, as soon as. Overlook it, we spoke for all of a minute on digital camera.
“I actually don’t have any,” I answered.
“What about Jacques Torres?” stated The One.
“Proper! Jacques Torres!” In 2008, I had spent six months researching tips on how to make a greater chocolate chip cookie for a New York Occasions article. The recipe that appeared within the piece was primarily based upon Jacques’s well-known cookies.
“I believe Jacques can be recreation,” I added.
“Nice! Acquired to run. Discuss quickly.”
The One and I checked out one another, surprised. We hung up the cellphone and sat on the sofa. Neither of us spoke. I believe he was questioning what he’d gotten himself into, and I used to be looking out the lounge for the right spot for my Emmy–the primary accolade in my star comeback EGOT pursuit.
A couple of week later, all 4 of us had a working Skype session. Aella and Roxie had created a pilot remedy and wished to go over it with us. On the prime of the one-sheeter they despatched us it learn:
"Unnamed Meals Pilot"
THAT didn’t sit effectively. I used to be betting on the controversy and alliterative enjoyable of “Two Hungry Homos.” Have been we already dropping the battle earlier than waging struggle? I let it go. For the second.
Aella learn:
FADE IN: MORNING. DAVID and THE ONE are in mattress waking up. They want one another a Pleased Valentine's Day. We see them preparing for the day. THE ONE, a NYC actual property agent, makes espresso and appears over his schedule of properties. DAVID makes scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast. They sit on the eating room desk consuming and speaking. Often, they attain out to carry fingers. When it is time for THE ONE to go to work, they hug goodbye. DAVID sees him out and begins his day on the pc engaged on his web site, Leite's Culinaria.
“Would you like us to remark?” I requested.
“No, let’s get by way of the entire pilot.” I went to say one thing however The One dug his heel into my foot.
DAVID will get up, goes to the window, and watches THE ONE cross the road. All of a sudden, he dashes to the bed room and attire. CUT TO a montage of THE ONE at work...assembly shoppers...lunching with colleagues...attending a seminar, strolling down NYC streets--which he adores. He is a homosexual Marlo Thomas on THAT GIRL.
I held again an eye fixed roll. A homosexual Marlo Thomas? Granted, The One loves the town, and he even loves That Lady, however I couldn’t see him working round in a red-and-blue skirt go well with with a wide-brim hat trying into retailer home windows and pirouetting at Lincoln Heart.
CUT TO DAVID assembly JACQUES TORRES in his downtown retailer/chocolate manufacturing unit. DAVID asks JACQUES if he can be prepared to show him tips on how to make Valentine's Day truffles. JACQUES agrees, and collectively they make two dozen truffles, which DAVID packing containers and tucks underneath his arm as he says goodbye to JACQUES.
Now, this sounded fascinating. Instructional and probably enjoyable. I might do my greatest Lucy on the chocolate manufacturing unit imitation. So, an enormous thumbs up. Aella continued:
CUT TO THE ONE at house at evening. He is arranging flowers in the course of the eating room desk as DAVID enters the house. We watch them put together a Valentine's meal from LEITE'S CULINARIA. CUT TO the bed room. DAVID and THE ONE are tucked in opening Valentine's Day playing cards. Lastly, DAVID takes out the field of truffles he made earlier within the day. The ONE is deeply touched. He opens the field and so they every take a truffle and kiss as we... FADE OUT
“Properly, what do you suppose?” Roxie requested.
I checked out The One hoping he’d bounce in earlier than I blurted out one thing.
“It’s…um…fascinating,” he stated. “I don’t know what a pilot is meant to be like,” he added, attempting to sound diplomatic.
“What about you, David?”
The One squeezed my fingers arduous underneath the desk. Translation: “Maintain your tongue.”
I couldn’t.
“That is horrible. That’s not us.” I turned to The One and requested, “Inform me: When have we ever not argued on Valentine’s Day?” He scrambled to reply, however I beat him to it. “By no means. That’s when.” Then to Aella and Roxie, “We argue nearly each day, not to mention each Valentine’s Day.”
I went on to say that this wasn’t actuality TV. There wasn’t something actual about it. I defined none of my readers would consider that story. They anticipate me to screw up. They anticipate me to get in a bind that solely The One can extricate me from. Just like the time I nearly burned down our home baking a Thanksgiving pie.
“They know our banter,” I stated, “how we may be the Bickersons at instances. They know we’re the “Odd Couple”–I’m sloppy, big-mouthed Oscar, he’s fastidious, correct Felix. They depend upon that dynamic. They love that dynamic.”
Sure, I might odor the bridges burning as I spoke.
“And who of their proper thoughts would discover a actuality present about New York actual property brokers remotely fascinating?” I added as punctuation to all this silliness.
(Flash ahead to the run-away hit Million Greenback Itemizing. So profitable is the present and the star brokers that real-estate mogul Fredrik Ekland and his enterprise companion John Gomes purchased wildly costly houses close to us in Roxbury. So, yup, I received that big-time improper.)
It was their flip to be speechless. Lastly, Aella pretty shouted, “You don’t perceive actuality TV. It’s not actual, it’s all arrange. It’s all scripted. We put you in eventualities we suppose are greatest for a community’s viewers. We create your relationship primarily based–generally loosely primarily based–on what you inform us.” I rankled on the emphasis on the phrase “we.”
From there, we went round and round. Me insisting our life needed to appear like our life, them insisting our life wanted to suit a spot within the community’s programming. After near an hour, we ended the decision.
To their estimable credit score, Aella and Roxie tried a number of extra instances to elucidate the methods of actuality tv, networks, and programming. And afterward, The One and I mentioned if we might permit who we have been to be created by a conglomerate. Every time we got here to the identical conclusion: No.
So again into the drawer went goals of being a star and fantasies of dumpsters full of cash. Our house wouldn’t be on any tour of Roxbury’s celebrities, which have included Arthur Miller and Marilyn Monroe, Daniel Day-Lewis, and Stephen Sondheim. (And, now, the brokers from Million Greenback Itemizing.) I might by no means get my barn-cum-TV studio within the yard.
However I discovered it was simpler this time; my life was a lot richer and fuller than once I was in my twenties. The ache was much less, the necessity for approval blunted.
As a substitute of gunning for stardom, I spent my time writing a cookbook and, later, my memoir, and entertaining. And over time, each time a visitor would watch us collectively within the kitchen and invariably say, “You two want your personal TV present,” we’d smile and nod. In the event that they solely knew.
Then at some point it hit me. It was so apparent, I didn’t see why I hadn’t considered it earlier than. I don’t want a manufacturing firm. I don’t want producers or a community. I can create our personal present, our personal cockeyed, poorly-produced-but-utterly-“us” present.
So now, each every so often, The One and I movie ourselves within the kitchen–when one in all us hadn’t stormed off in a snit as a result of we argued over strains or display screen time or route. Typically we’re alone, different instances we’ve a particular visitor like Zoë François. Clearly, there are not any Emmy, Webby, or James Beard awards in our future. But it surely’s us. As we’re. Actual.
However simply in case TV comes calling once more, I trademarked the identify. I wasn’t about to permit some fairly younger twenty-something A-list gays to take our identify. So far as I’m involved, there are numerous homosexual guys who prefer to eat, however there’ll solely ever be two hungry homos.
