November 4, 2014

...Continued from last month...

I know... I know... That isn't exactly what the voice on the other line said.  Actually, that isn't at all what the voice on the other line said.  But, a back story comes with it, so bear with me while I fill you in:  
     
The voice on the other line was that of Anny.  Anny was a friend of mine who I met through Ryan.  The two were a couple living in Fairfield, Iowa who I met at a restaurant/bar called Vivo's.  Ryan was a cook at said restaurant.  Together, Ryan and Anny were a collective force to be reckoned with.  You didn't get one without the other. Ever.  You also didn't mention them separately.  There was no Ryan, there was no Anny.  There was only Ryan AND Anny.  The collective force.  The Bonnie AND Clyde.  Except, where Bonny and Clyde were interested in robbing banks and shootouts with the law, Ryan and Anny were interested in shooting whiskey and making food.  Honestly, I don't know though, it wouldn't be a surprise that if their lives had taken a twist that they wouldn't have ended up a modern day Bonny and Clyde, shootouts and all.  Seriously, they were that much of a collective force.  But what happened to make them one singular force is romantic if not somewhat amazing. Either way, it's perfectly fitting. 
     
From what I recall, Ryan was living in La Crosse, Wisconsin at his mother's house.  Meanwhile, Anny had just finished up college in La Crosse.  There, the two met through mutual friends and hung out for a week or so before Anny had to move back to her hometown in Fairfield, Iowa.  On the other side things, Ryan had just been accepted into the Culinary Institute of America in California (whose alumni list includes the likes of Anthony Bourdain, Andrew Zimmern, Cat Cora, and many other household notables) and was set to start school the following semester.  The relationship seemed doom before it started.  The week after Anny moved back home, however, Ryan decided that his best bet was to be with her.  True love, you know.  So, he dropped everything, set his culinary dreams aside, and drove through the night to Fairfield to be with her.  And she was cool with that.     
     
So, there I was sitting on one of those comfortable couches in Nashville with no plan whatsoever in one of the biggest financial crises in the history of our country when the phone rang:  "Weejy, it's Anny," the voice said, "Ryan got the head chef job at the Fairfield Country Club.  He needs some help.  Do you want a job?"

To be continued...