On a plane, as I watch her on my seat-screen, I write the Barefoot Contessa.
The Contessa's voice is deep. Pleasingly practical. A voice of welcoming homes near the ocean.
The Contessa wears an expensively casual denim shirt.
The Contessa talks about her dear, dead friend who, while alive, made a mean tomato tart.
The Contessa tackles "fearless foods," things we are afraid to make, like salted caramel nuts. She says they're "scary."
I will say the nuts are scary if the Contessa will make them for me.
The Contessa wouldn't make that joke, so neither will I.
X100 = 100 words on whatever I — or you — want to write about. To submit, email me.