Marcel's belle

Break out the Lana Turner dress – I’m going to an exclusive affair at Marcel’s Culinary Experience this Saturday night!

What? You haven’t heard of Marcel’s? Where do you live? Under a rock or something? Marcel’s is the new culinary retail store and cooking school that my dear friend Jill Foucré just opened in Glen Ellyn, IL. From a story in the Glen Ellyn Patch:

The retail store offers fine cookware, specialty foods and tableware, and an assortment of day and evening cooking classes offered in a state-of-the-art kitchen.

Mike will be in Wisconsin with Gus this Saturday, so Harper and I are taking the train to Marcel’s for the friends and family grand opening that night. I. Can’t. Wait. I spent countless nights hanging out at Chez Foucré with Jill and her sister Jenny when we were teenagers. Their dad was a handsome man with an exotic first name: Jacques. Their mother, Suzanne, was a stand-out blonde. They were a young family in a beautiful old house: high ceilings, modern furniture, bookshelves packed with hardcover books, and they even owned sculpture!

That's Jill in the middle, flanked by her sister Jenny, and Jenny's husband Dean.

Jill grew up with a sense of design. She inherited her love of reading from her mom. Her love for the culinary experience? That comes from her father’s side. Namely, from her grandfather, Marcel.

I never had the privilege of meeting Jill’s paternal grandfather, but I’ve heard a lot about him. Marcel Foucré was a French chef and restaurateur. He grew up in Tours — Jill and her dad went to France earlier this year to trace Marcel’s footsteps. From the Glen Ellyn Patch article

Jill has fond memories of the man who gave her a joie de vivre when it came to cooking.

“I was 15 when he died in 1974,” she said. “He was a fabulous cook. I remember that he and his family lived out in Philadelphia area when I was a kid. He would come out here to visit. He would make us omelets and scrambled eggs and they were the most delicious things that you’ve ever tasted. He was a charming, unassuming and delightful little Frenchman. He was passionate about his craft.”

And me? I’m passionate about the whole Foucré family. Jenny, Jill and I were in our high school band together and can still tell story after story about exploits on school buses to neighboring towns, building floats for homecoming parades, band trips to California and Florida. Jill played the bassoon. Jenny played flute and married her high school sweetheart, a French horn player. I was the band librarian. During fourth period every day, while the musicians practiced away, I was nestled behind a big glass window filing scores, mimeographing sheet music and slipping personal notes (I of course thought these were hilarious) into the band folders each musician picked up before practice.

I took attendance, too –a very powerful position back in the day when it was a cinch to ditch class. Jill’s bassoon was the only one the school owned. Any time it got sent to the repair shop, she was assigned to come “help” me in the library. Translation: she helped me write the hilarious notes we put into band folders, we discussed at length how it was that Scott and Nancy got caught making out in the practice room, and how we’d manage to get a seat towards the back in next weekend’s bus trip to the state competition. Jill was creative — sometimes it would take months to make the bassoon right. Her bassoon sabotage was the highest form of high school friendship.

After graduation I found a ride on the U of I ride board to see Jill at Indiana University, and as she developed a successful business career Mike and I visited her and her handsome son Alex in Ohio and Maryland. Once she returned to Illinois we made it a Christmas ritual to meet at Jenny’s kitchen every year to eat, drink, tell stories and read out loud the worst Xerox Christmas letters that we’d received that year.

Jenny and Jill stuck with me when I lost my sight. They took a 150-mile drive with their kids to visit after Gus was born – they were worried about me, and with good reason. Over the years they’ve invited me to parties, welcomed me at their kitchen tables for late night talks, and best of all: they’ve always treated me the same way they did before I lost my sight.

Jenny and Jill’s younger sisters are just as beautiful and talented as the older two. I’m looking forward to being with the whole lot of them again this Saturday and toasting to Jill’s latest adventure.