A Sad Happy Story

Autumn 1990 was a sad time in my life. I was going to be leaving New York after ten years. I would be starting life over in Los Angeles, and my new employer there wanted me to prepare a dish for a food and wine benefit there that would really wow people.

Shortly before I moved, some friends took me to our favorite restaurant in Chinatown, and, as always, we went to Baskin-Robbins for ice cream afterward. I’d been nervous about this food and wine event; I guess it had been in the back of my mind for a while. I ordered an ice-cream cone. The guy put it in a little holder—you take it from a holder—and said, “Here’s your cone.”