A few years ago my friend Courtney saw Isaac Mizrahi hailing a cab across the street from her in Manhattan. She is the type of person who once followed Maya Angelou into a dressing room at Sak's and another time pestered a newly-famous Keanu Reeves into taking her out to dinner, so naturally she raced across Broadway to accost Mr. Mizrahi.
"I worship you!" she told him. He glanced at her and immediately quipped back at her, "Don't worship me, you should worship God," then climbed into his cab and sped away.
Okay, I realize this isn't the greatest celebrity story, but I'm totally embarassed around famous people, even when I do worship them, so I have to take my stories where I can get them, which is usually from Courtney.
Anyway, I remembered the "you should worship god" story because the first edition of Edible Manhattan is out, with a profile of Isaac Mizrahi's refrigerator inside.
Edible Brooklyn wrote a story about my cooking classes a couple years ago, so I'm already a loyal fan of this burgeoning empire. But even if I weren't, the Isaac Mizrahi kitchen profile would have had me within seconds. Most of these profiles are cute peeks into a famous person's fridge. The famous person offers little pithy descriptions about the contents -- why they like this chili sauce or how they cook their eggs or what they think of bottled water.
Isaac's reads more like a Rorschach test on acid. For example:
Worchestershire Sauce: "I love it. It’s like granny’s panties."
On Eggs: "Eggs are God! Wool is God and eggs are God."
He compares himself to Judy Garland: "Uppers, downers! Butter, Weight Watchers!"
I love him. And I agree, about eggs and wool. I worship them. And him, too, kind of.