A computer company hired him to write code for them—when he was 17. Since he was still in high school, he had to work nights. No problem; they gave him a key to their building, where he worked until 1 or 2 most mornings.
I tagged along every now and then, more on weekends than weeknights. He would set me up with a computer that, as I recall, had a program on it that was still being beta-tested. This program allowed you to write on it, and not only backspace to erase what you typed, but highlight parts of what you wrote, and move it somewhere else on the document—radical stuff for 1977.
I was a budding writer (some things never change), and often had more than my share of doubts, self-doubts, uncertainty, and anger about most everything. He was never mad, but knew what to do with those who were. Come on, let’s go to the office.
In other words—come on and type it all out.
His level-headedness is only one of his greatest attributes. A very close second is his ability to look at a situation and see something different, and very close to that is his sense of humor. In good times, his way of seeing the world leads me to laugh out loud. In bad times, his outlook invites me to get my head out of the ditch, and to see the fields of possibility already white with harvest. I should be such a good friend to myself.
These qualities sort of snuck up on me when I reached out to him recently. I find some fascination in looking at the edges of the culinary world, and trying my hand now and then at the things that strike my fancy. I had gotten into an online discussion with friends from the Southern US about the best mayonnaise (it’s still Hellman’s), which in turn led me to a well-known Japanese mayonnaise available in the US, and a French mayonnaise that is not.
Cue my email to my ami, who now lives in France.
“I can order this online for $12, but the shipping is $35” I said, including the link to the website. “Slide one of these in your luggage the next time you’re coming stateside.”
It didn’t take long for a response.
“Hell no. Hahaha. I’ll bring the stuff to make it and you’ll never buy it again.”
Chef Pepin is one of the most beloved chefs in the world, in part because he is so modest. His videos have no studio audience, and no graphics. If you want to make what he’s making, you only need to pay attention; he’s telling you what to do with an inviting tone that says, come on, this is easy. While most chefs say it takes five men and two strong boys to emulsify mayonnaise, Chef Pepin makes blending oil, eggs, and vinegar seem effortless, and a triumph of the creative spirit.
Once again, my high school pal was right. I didn’t need to be a culinary globetrotter. I needed some time to look at mayonnaise anew, see past the myths of its difficulty, and find a new part of myself.
In these challenging times, accept Chef Pepin’s and my buddy’s invitations. Set aside your doubts about the way the world seems to be heading, any self-limitations about your cooking abilities, and remember what your five-year-old self knew. Exploration is wonderful, wonderfully soothing, wonderfully reassuring, and relatively simple. Go make some mayonnaise, and leave your phone in the other room.
Bon appetite.
Heart Matters
It’s really not a feeling
But a vision
A fully illustrated world
You can’t completely see
But know the colors to come
Will be rich.
That is love
Beyond the altar
That truly alters.
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Six O'Clock Sky 
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