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At one point in my life, I wrote obits by day and did stand-up comedy at night.

These things may seem to have nothing in common at first glance. But they taught me a lot about balance. I learned to write passages that would hopefully evoke laughter or sympathy. I also learned how to quickly switch gears emotionally. I thought about that last night when I did my first stop of my paperback book tour.

My father-in-law, Floyd, always wanted me to do an event in Spokane, Wash., the town where he lived. He lobbied Auntie's, the local bookstore, who in turn lobbied Penguin. We knew back in March that I'd be doing an event here. He was just as proud of me as my own dad would have been had he not passed away nearly 28 years ago.

So, as I stood up to start speaking, and tried to warm up by telling a few jokes, I thought of that time when I wrote obits and did stand-up comedy. Missing from the crowd was my father-in-law, the one who most wanted me to speak here. He died suddenly of a stroke back in April. I mentioned this to the crowd, and my eyes seized with tears. I literally felt my throat catch. I couldn't talk about him. No one wants to see an author cry, even if the word is in the title of her book.

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A woman named Sharon wrote me an interesting question this morning. On an upcoming trip to Paris, she wants to visit the restaurant supply stores of Paris. I mention them in the book, but where can she find them exactly? What should she purchase?

I could spend hours on this subject.

The largest and oldest collection of cookware stores can be found around the Les Halles area of Paris, the neighborhood that was once home to the city's sprawling wholesale food market until the whole place was shut down and the sellers shipped off to Rungis.

1. The legendary E. Dehllieren has been in business since 1820, making it the oldest cookware store in Paris. The place is rustic, dusty and crammed with every kitchen gadget you can imagine. On offer are whisks in 17 different sizes, a vast assortment of copper pots, knives, authentic crepe pans, every manner of Le Creuset pot and every gadget imaginable. The staff works on commission and thus will fall over themselves to help. A bonus: they all speak English. (18, Rue Coquillière)
   
   
2. A. Simon actually has two stores, one for tableware and the other specializing in gear for patisserie. The chocolate mold selection itself is worth a visit. (46, 48, rue Monmartre)
   
   
3. La Bovida has a variety of gear, but is my favorite for knives and specialty spices, which can be purchased in small home-size tins or bags weighing several kilos. (36, rue Montmartre)
   
   
4. Mora down the street has a smattering of everything, including the largest collection of cookie cutters and cake decorating products that I've ever seen. I am not sure why one would need a cookie cutter in the shape of a cow, but they've got one. (13, rue Montmartre)

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I'm still swaying. Until 24 hours ago, I was on a 74-foot boat named the Catalyst weaving along Alaska's Inside Passage. The reason for the trip was to watch my friend "Ace," a fellow alumni from Le Cordon Bleu in Paris manage her galley as research for my next book.

I thought her life on board sounded idyllic. She'd cook for the twenty or so guests aboard as she gazed out at the splendor of the Alaskan landscape. In the evening, she'd mingle with them over wine.

I was wrong.

Ace wakes up each day at 5 a.m. to start coffee and breakfast. most guests wake when the engines start at about 6 a.m. After that, she is in constant motion, preparing three meals, baking fresh breads and cookies. She's learned to expertly provision and portion. "I want there to be enough for second helpings, but not a lot of leftovers. We don't have the space." The hardest part isn't the cooking, she says. "It's being ‘on' all the time."

The galley of the Catalyst is on the main deck with the parlor, the place where all the guests hang out. Summer in Alaska is a cold, rainy affair marked by infrequent bursts of sunshine. Of the six days at sea, five featured pouring rain. Guests spend a lot of time inside, swathed in fleece, their hands curved around a cup of hot something. Most spend their time reading, looking at the landscape out the steamy windows or watching Ace cook.

"What kind of meat is that?" ‘Really, you use leg of lamb in stew? Huh." "What are you doing now?" "What was it like to study at Le Cordon Bleu in Paris?"

Kathleen Flinn is our guest blogger during the week of September 1st. If you have any questions for Kathleen Flinn, add a comment to any of her posts. Here is some more information about The Sharper Your Knife, the Less You Cry:

This is the funny and inspiring account of Kathleen Flinn's struggle in a stew of hot-tempered chefs, competitive classmates, her own "wretchedly inadequate" French, and the basics of French cuisine. Flinn was a thirty-six-year-old middle manager trapped on the corporate ladder-until her boss eliminated her job. So she cashed in her savings and moved to Paris to pursue her lifelong dream of attending the venerable Le Cordon Bleu cooking school. Fans of Julie & Julia and the late Julia Child will be richly rewarded by this vibrant tale of self-discovery, transformation, and ultimately love.

About Kathleen Flinn

Kathleen Flinn has been a writer and journalist for nearly twenty years. Her work has appeared in the Chicago Tribune, Chicago Sun-Times, USA Weekend, Men's Fitness and many other publications. She is a proud member of the International Association of Culinary Professionals, the American Society of Journalists and Authors, and the Author's Guild. She divides her time between Seattle and southwest Florida. 

The Sharper Your Knife, the Less You Cry
Kathleen Flinn - Author
$15.00 | add to cart
Book: Paperback | 8.26 x 5.23in | 304 pages | ISBN 9780143114130 | 02 Sep 2008 | Penguin 

Kathleen Flinn, The Sharper Your Knife, the Less You Cry, Le Cordon Bleu, cooking school, France, cooking, food, wine, restaurants, books, Penguin Books