This past November, I traveled to New York on business. (Ah yes. New York. We all know how much I LOVE New York.) A few minutes before boarding, a colleague of mine grabbed a seat across from me in the waiting area, breathless from running to the gate after the hell that is security. When she had finally collected herself long enough to talk, she patted me on the leg. “Hey, did you hear Michael Symon was here?” Yes, I said, Michael Symon is from Cleveland. Lives here sometimes when he’s not shooting The Chew or Symon’s Suppers or The Next Iron Chef: Redemption or Jerk Chickens Of Canada.
Don’t be shocked when that turns into a thing.
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Have you ever taken the
Last weekend, the Midwest was given a reprieve of our normal January weather with a 60-degree weekend. As a native Midwesterner, I scoff at 60-degree weekends as flukes. Being from Cleveland, I’m waiting for something bad to greet me right around the corner. (Don’t believe me? See
[UPDATE: I GOT AN A+!... I mean "she" got an A+. Parental yayyy.]