I didn’t plan it this way. When I woke up this morning, it didn’t even cross my mind. But just a few hours later I found myself standing in line buying a book I didn’t want, just to get an autograph I never knew I needed.
Perhaps it was the delectable Spanish accent that kept me waiting in line for so long. Maybe it was the whole tall-dark-handsome thing or the roguish smile and cheeky sense of humour.
All I know is that I paid $30 for a book about Spanish cooking that I will probably never use. And let’s face it – this is no audio-book. So we don’t even get to hear that Spanish-English accent that makes Miguel Maestre so appealing.
That said, my kids were pretty chuffed about meeting a celebrity chef. So we stood in line as countless women before us got the kiss on both cheeks and the signature we so desperately wanted.
Then it was our turn. Miguel Maestre stood before us, pen in hand, smile at the ready. But before he could reach for our book, there was a whisper in his ear. He was needed for a taste-test. Could we wait just a minute?
“Sure,” I said. The kids had waited this long, a few more minutes wouldn’t kill us.
Moments passed and a woman appeared where Miguel should have been. He was going to be another hour. The taste-test had turned into a cook-off. Could we come back?
Probably not, I thought to myself. “Sure,” I said and turned away.
The couple behind me stepped forward. “Oh, but we’re leaving,” they gushed. “Could we just get his autograph?”
“Follow me,” said the woman while I stood back, just a little bit annoyed.
Minutes later, the couple re-appeared. He was smiling. She was glowing. What on earth had gone on back there?
Having never planned to buy Miguel’s book, much less get his autograph, I was now oddly peeved.
What to do? I gave up. There was no way I was entertaining three kids while we waited for Miguel to finish cooking.
But my husband was not so easily put off. He sat through that cooking demonstration, lined up with the throngs of excited fans and got that autograph.
The only thing he didn’t get was the double kiss. Oh well. The book is signed. It’s on a shelf. Mission accomplished.