Saveur in the mid-1990s. It could be a bit of a roller coaster for anyone low on the totem pole (me). Yes, I looked on as Paula Wolfert made couscous on our conference room floor. And I did indeed share a car home from the James Beard House with Jacques Pépin. I also put my Cordon Bleu education to work fetching lunches, filing contracts, and accepting many a mission impossible, like: “Could you get my leather satchel repaired before I leave for Italy in an hour?” Neighborhood dry cleaner, $20 bribe. I thrived on this sort of challenge. Then again, Colman Andrews, the editor who departed with a bag as good as new, let me watch over his shoulder while he finessed my copy—a master class in both writing and editing.