Whole truth about the graying Gastronome

(The following was written for “Gastronome” Columnist Gary Bedsworth’s 70th birthday, an event that was celebrated last Saturday by a congregation of Rim Country notables and not-so-notables. If you don’t know Gary, please indulge his friends as they use this space to remind him how really old he is.)

The halcyon days of Gary Bedsworth’s youth are over – way over.

That’s a kinder, gentler way of saying the Gastronome is really old. Seventy to be exact.

If you read his column in last week’s Gazette, you saw a photo of the young, debonair Bedsworth in his heyday as a steward for Pan Am. Alas, those days are gone.

The Bedsworth we know and love today shows the wear and tear of a lifetime spent wining and dining. Some might even consider him a poster child for profligacy.

As Bob Edwards put it so well: “Gary is living proof that you can eat rich food and grow very, very old.”

But we did not gather Saturday afternoon to demean or belittle Gary, but to bury him – or at least to lament the fact that he is closer to that side of the scale than the other. To that end, some of those in attendance contributed some special anecdotes.

Here are some of the things I learned about Gary:

Ed Blair, a man of God, speaks only the truth. Ed wonders about the license plate on the front of Gary’s truck that reads “R TRUCK.” Ed has it from a higher authority that, being Gary’s, it certainly couldn’t stand for “Redeemed Truck.” The only other option then, one Ed insists was confirmed by the Holy Father himself, is “Ridiculous Truck.”

Further insight into Gary’s vehicular proclivities comes from Ted Harman.

Ted says the boat launch at Carnero Lake has been renamed Bedsworth’s Bog in honor of a new technique Gary devised for launching canoe, trailer and SUV all in one move. The lesson Gary learned that day: the gooey mud of Carnero Lake converts a four wheel drive vehicle into a no-wheel drive.

But now it’s time to get personal. Judy Shafferkoetter talks of Gary’s “sweet, dry” personality that turns “sour” when he least expects it. “If Gary were a salesperson,” Judy observes, “he would be broke.”

Richard YaDeau notes that wherever he goes, Gary tries to set up a young chef’s culinary competition – and not without motive. Actually two motives.

First, this is Gary’s way of finding out where to eat, and second, he hopes there will be young culinarians to feed him when he is in his dotage – a time, Richard observes, that is fast approaching.

He also notes Gary’s exquisite taste in fine wines, and I quote: “The best wine Gary has ever tasted is the next wine he can talk you into serving.”

And from Kathy Baas, we learn that Gary has a curious habit of making dishes the rest of us cannot pronounce with recipes that contain ingredients nowhere to be found in the Rim Country.
Linda May says one of the funniest things about Gary is his undying commitment to an organization known as La Chaîne des Rôtisseurs, an international gastronomic society founded in 1950 in Paris to revive the traditions of the royal guild of goose roasters chartered in 1248. The Chaîne is dedicated to bringing together those who share a mutual interest in cuisine, wine, and fine dining in a spirit of camaraderie.
“Gary got Roy and Al to join this old order of some cooked goose from the l500s,” Linda recalled. “They wear ribbons and ‘pots and pans’ around their necks and probably consume about l0,000 calories per meal.”
Now this is top secret information, but Linda says when they inducted Al, they had a sword ceremony on the top of the Valley Ho hotel in Phoenix and she didn't know if they were going to whack off his head and send it flying across the rooftops or bring out a pig and stab it to death and put it on a spit right there.
Linda also brings to our attention the funny clothes Gary and other chefs wear, including spring-loaded shoes and hats that look like they’re made out of old baby blankets.

She closes with a reminiscence of a fund raising party held at their house for Edwards when Gary decided to flourish his culinary artistry by preparing four elk dishes using the poor beast slaughtered by Al “The Butcher” Poskanzer. Linda says that since that fateful day, the elk have never returned to the neighborhood for fear of becoming the next elk tartare – proof, indeed, that Gary’s reputation has preceded him.

Each of the people quoted above also said something nice about Gary, but we’re out of space, so we’ll summarize that side of Gary with the words of Noble Collins, who called him that rarest of combinations – a gourmand, a bon vivant and a skilled fly fisherman.

To that, we add this postscript:

Gary, when your imminent day of reckoning comes, may the creator be a member of La Chaîne des Rôtisseurs, and not an elk or any other creature you’ve had occasion to “prepare.”

Because if he is the latter, we have it on good authority from Councilor Blair that “The Gastronome” will most assuredly spend eternity with “The Butcher” Poskanzer in a place where the temperature is always a perfect 350 degrees.