It’s been a wild week, and I can’t think of a better way to unwind than to meet up with old friends to cook – and eat – together. That’s what Mike and I are doing tonight. We’re taking a hands-on class called “Small Bites, Big Party” with Chef Paul Lindemuth at Marcel’s Culinary Experience. Marcel’s is the culinary retail store and cooking school my friend Jill Foucré opened in Glen Ellyn, Illinois last Fall. Here’s a short description of classes from their web site:

With all classes, in addition to the instruction by our staff of chefs, you get to enjoy the meal that is made, take home the recipes and a grocery list, and take advantage of a 10% discount to the entire store that day. In addition, hands on classes include preparation of the meal, beer and wine (adult classes only), and a Marcel’s apron to take home!

Jill’s sister and brother-in-law just happen to be my friends Jenny and Dean Fischer – they’ll be joining us in the class tonight, along with twelve others who are sure to become our friends, especially after the complimentary beer and wine. Not exactly sure how much I’ll be able to participate in the hands-on cooking part, but trust me, when it comes to taste-testing, I’m an expert!

A photo from Marcel’s grand opening gala. That’s Jill in the middle, flanked by her sister Jenny, and Jenny’s husband Dean.

Jill’s business is named for her paternal grandfather, a French chef and restaurateur who grew up in Tours. I never had the privilege of meeting Marcel Foucré, but I was very fortunate to have known Jenny and Jill’s mother Suzanne. Jill wrote a tribute to her mother for Marcel’s May newsletter and agreed to let me use it with this blog post. I’ll say goodbye here and leave you with Jill’s tribute to her mom for Mother’s day. I’ve gotta dash over to the pool to do laps – Jenny emailed me this morning and said to make sure we come to class hungry!

A note from Jill

As we celebrate our mothers this month and also fully delve into our gardens, not a day goes by that I don’t think of my mom, Susanne. Susanne was the daughter-in-law of Marcel, and that was a tough spot to be in when you were married a few days before your 20th birthday and pretty much didn’t know how to boil water. Having a French chef for a father-in-law made for some tense visits but my mom was never one to back down from a challenge.

She not only learned how to cook beautifully but she knew how to entertain. She threw parties that were the envy of the neighborhood and every detail was attended to – including a guest list that threw the most dynamic people into a room together. She did love a spirited debate! I got my love of cooking from both my father and my mother but my love of entertaining was definitely from Susanne, who couldn’t have enough dishes, tableware, beautiful flowers from her always lush gardens and great food with great company.

It’s sadly ironic that losing my mom in 2009 was one of the things that spurred me on to do something different with my life — she would have loved Marcel’s so much and she would be so happy to see me doing what I love. It has been such a pleasure to meet so many customers who share her passion for bringing people together and creating just the perfect setting for doing so.

All of us at Marcel’s truly enjoy helping you find just the perfect thing whether it is for a weeknight meal for family or a once in a lifetime special occasion. Thank you to all of you who let us into your homes to cook, create, and celebrate. And Happy Mother’s Day, Mom — I couldn’t have done this without you.

That’s the hub of our ‘hood.

Our neighborhood independent bookstore is celebrating its 30th anniversary in style — Sandmeyer’s Bookstore is throwing a party Wednesday night at Jazz Showcase, right down the street. Ulrich and Ellen Sandmeyer wanted a few local authors to speak while Harry and the Hit Men (a terrific cover band they’re flying in from the Bay Area – their son RalphRolf plays guitar and sings vocals) sets up, and I was honored to be asked. Of course I said yes — Sandmeyer’s is one of the things that attracted us to this Printer’s Row neighborhood in the first place.

When Mike and I decided to move to Chicago back in 2003, we looked for a neighborhood that would be friendly, safe, and easy for my Seeing Eye dog Hanni and me to navigate. That’s how we found Printers Row.

Printers Row is a tiny neighborhood in Chicago just south of the Loop. The buildings in our neighborhood were originally used by printing and publishing businesses.
Before electricity, printers used natural light to check their work, so the windows in neighborhood buildings are tall and wide. You know, to let light in. The ceilings are high, too, to accommodate old printing presses. The neighborhood went the wrong way for a long time, and many of the lovely old buildings were marked for demolition in the 70s and 80s. Thanks to some stubborn preservationists, the visionary architect Harry Weese, and pioneering folks who were willing to homestead in Printers Row, the neighborhood was not lost, but found. Two of those homesteaders were the Sandmeyers, who opened their book store long before Printers Row was a sure bet. Today, most of the buildings that were in peril in Printers Row have been converted into residential lofts. There’s always a lot of activity up and down the street, so I feel safe. When I’m walking around with my new Seeing Eye dog Whitney, I feel like people are looking out for me.

Printers Row is close enough to the Loop that Whitney can walk me to my part-time job downtown at Easter Seals Headquarters and the weekly writing class I teach for senior citizens at the Chicago Cultural Center. It also turned out to be the ideal place for an author to promote a book.

Sandmeyer’s displayed copies of my memoir Long Time, No See in the window the day we moved into Printer’s Row, and I have a feeling that half my royalties stem from Ulrich and Ellen Sandmeyer handselling it to the customers who wandered in. Four years later, Ulrich Sandmeyer called me at home the minute copies of “Hanni and Beth: Safe and Sound” landed at the bookstore’s doorstep.

Mike and I ran right down to admire the box load. One book had already sold by the time we got there – a neighbor had seen Ulrich pulling a copy out of the box and insisted on buying it right away.

“There’s not another book like it,” Ulrich said, marveling at the illustrations inside. “It’s going to sell very, very well.” To that end, Ulrich immediately placed one copy of Safe & Sound in the front display window.

As excellent as Ulrich and Ellen are when it comes to promoting local authors, they are even better when it comes to promoting literacy. We have two wise owners cutting through all the hundreds of thousands of titles out there, and thanks to their intelligent ordering, and good reading, we can easily find books at Sandmeyer’s that we really want to read. Happy birthday, dear Sandmeyer’s. And now…let’s dance!

Whitney and I did a presentation at the Solomon Schechter Day School in Skokie, IL this morning. The kids were great fun, they were very curious about how Whitney does her job, and how I manage to do all the things I do without being able to see. The hour flew by quickly, and as always, I enjoyed the question-and-answer part the most. Some of my favorite questions:

• Do Seeing Eye dogs poop on the toilet?
• Can your dog read signs, so if a sign says “No Dogs Allowed” does your dog not go there?
• Some dogs can understand lots of words, and some dogs can’t understand many words at all. Does your dog understand every single word we say?

The most difficult question came right at the beginning. The pre-kindergarteners and kindergartners were seated close enough to ask questions before the presentation officially began, and one wanted to know if Whitney was a boy dog or a girl dog. I told them Whitney is a girl, but when we’re out and about most people think she’s a boy dog. “Does she look like a boy, do you think?” Before the student could answer, another one piped up. “How can you tell if it’s a boy or a girl?” I’ll leave it up to you to guess how I answered that one!

There’s Whit ensconced before the gigantic rain rorest shower inside the gigantic bathroom inside my gigantic suite.

There are few things I enjoy more than staying at a fancy hotel  — especially when someone else is paying for it. My bed gets made every morning,, clean towels magically appear in the bathroom, and when I walk through the lobby everyone from the doorman to the people behind the front desk ask if they can help me. Some even call me by my name, a la “Ms. Finke? May I help you to the elevator?” Those of you old enough to appreciate James Thurber will understand why I refer to my hotel stays as Walter Mitty experiences.

My friend Dean Fischer is one of the founders of West Monroe Partners here in Chicago, and when he asked me to give the opening keynote for the firm’s 10th anniversary celebration, I told him I’d be honored. The celebration was at a new hotel less than one mile away from our Chicago condo, but I went ahead and asked for a hotel room anyway. And you know what? West Monroe Partners came through. Big time. And when I say big, I mean big — they arranged for me to have a luxury suite!

The people at the front desk must have been alerted I was coming  —  they had keycards waiting for me with one corner clipped off  —  that way I knew which end to put in the key slot to get into my suite. Dean’s wife (and my high school pal) Jenny Fischer came along as the doorman led us down the hallway to my suite, and the two of us burst out laughing when we got inside. The bathroom was bigger than our bedroom at home! Well, at least one of the bathrooms was. The suite had two.

I usually take Whitney’s harness off her when we get into a hotel room, to you know, give her a break. Hotel rooms are predictable, and I can manage them on my own. Not this hotel room, though. Whitney’s harness stayed on. I never did figure out how to get from my king-sized bed to the door to the hotel’s hallway — I had to pick up Whitney’s harness and give her the “outside” command any time I wanted to leave the room!

But back to my tour of the suite: the doorman  —  his name was Charlie — showed me where the mini-bar was, described the rain forest shower and explained how an infinity tub worked. He told me what button to press on the phone to call the front desk in an emergency. You know, like if I got lost in the suite.

My keynote was at 9 a.m. on the very first day of the conference, but I stayed the entire weekend. Not only because I had such a groovy hotel room, but also because it was such a joy to be around these smart, curious, and extremely young people from West Monroe Partners. The business and technology consulting firm has over 300 employees across North America, and one-third of them are younger than 29. No surprise, then, that Brill Street Named West Monroe Partners one of the 50 most Generation Y friendly companies in the Chicagoland area this year.

Not all of the young people I talked to over the weekend had studied business in college One was a German major, another studied English literature. All of them had spunk, though, and many told me how much they were learning on the job. They weren’t afraid of taking on new responsibilities at work, and boy, did they like to have fun. Example: on Friday night they all went to Johnny’s Ice House in Chicago, where the Canadian employees teamed up against the U.S. employees for a rousing game of hockey. Whitney and I sat that one out. We stayed in the hotel. Oh, and did I tell you we had a luxury suite?

“We’re all pretty Type A,” one of the employees admitted the morning after the hockey game. “And we’re pretty assertive, too.” He was right, I suppose, but there’s a difference between assertive and aggressive. A big difference. These assertive young folks were not shy. They seemed perfectly comfortable approaching me, asking me questions, telling stories, and best of all, sharing laughs.

It was a weekend of first for me, including this one: it was the first time I knew my way around outside the hotel better than inside my room  —  we were right in our neighborhood, I knew the streets, and Whitney and I enjoyed a few nice, long walks together. It was my first time in an infinity tub, too. Whitney was tempted to join me, but I wouldn’t let her. I was afraid she might drown.

When the packet of thank you notes from the fifth graders at St. Mary of the Lake School arrived in the mail, a light bulb went on over my head: take them along to my presentation at Northern Illinois University!

That's us with 4th, 5th, and 6th graders at St. Mary of the Lake

The undergraduates in the class Whitney and I visited last week at NIU are studying to become elementary school teachers, and their children’s literature class is three hours long. After talking to them for the first hour, I bribed them with the letters: I’d give them a ten-minute break if each of them agreed to select a random letter from the pile and read it out loud when they returned. They jumped out of their seats at the opportunity.

The exercise of reading the letters out loud was educational for all of us. I, for one, learned to bring apples with me to future elementary school visits. Let me explain. During the Q&A at St. Mary’s, one of the fifth graders asked how I can use a knife in the kitchen without cutting myself. I knew the kids understood fractions, so I described holding on to the very edge of an apple with one hand while I cut it in half, then holding on to the very edge of the half to cut that into quarters, then eighths. “When I’m done, the pieces aren’t all the same size, but they still taste good!” I laughed, spreading my thumb and forefinger to show that some pieces might be more like thirds, others like teeny-tiny-tenths. “But at least I can say I sliced that apple all by myself.”

Almost every thank-you letter the undergrads read aloud to me mentioned cutting an apple. The future teachers learned how much elementary school children learn when they are exposed to different sorts of people and different ways of doing things. Each college kid seemed to take a sweet sort of pride in the fifth grader whose letter they read aloud, but none could compete with this one, written by a girl named Cindy (the letter is spelled out for screen readers below, also):

The note from Cindy.

To my blind blog readers, the note scanned above reads: Dear Miss Finke, I really enjoyed having you come to our school. It was amazing how you said you would cut the apple. I was also amazed when you said you would go grocery shopping with your husband. Also how you could figure out what things were missing. I was shocked at how you type really fast without making a mistake. This may not be about you, but Whitney is well-trained Seeing Eye dog. You are also a well-coordinated woman. The doctors might have said that there isn’t any cure, but keep on hoping. I tell you this because I passed through surgery, and I’m hoping to get better sooner. Keep your hopes high.

PS: You can check out the guest blog I wrote for The Bark in April to read about the first and second grade classes Whit and I visited at St. Mary’s, too.