Save Me the Plums - Ruth Reichl Page 0,17

to guard her anonymity at the Times, will take over in April from Gail Zweigenthal, who is stepping down after 34 years with the magazine.

I scooped up all the other papers, but the only other mention I found was in an advertising publication. The editor of a competing food magazine was quoted as saying, “What does a restaurant critic know about running a magazine? We’re going to eat her lunch.”

Oh, great, I thought, we’re off to a fine start.

* * *

—

GOURMET WAS STILL in the ugly brick skyscraper I’d visited so long ago, and as I pressed the elevator button I remembered the way the editor had sneered at my ideas. I exited to find an elegant blond receptionist who might be the very same woman who’d told me to take a seat back then, and when I gave my name she regarded me with similar disdain. “This,” her face said very clearly, “is the new editor in chief?”

“They’re waiting for you.” She pointed through a glass door to a large sitting area, and I stood making nervous small talk with Si and Gina as the staff moved slowly into the room, jostling for a better view. They looked slightly shell-shocked, and they stared at me as Si began to speak, his soft voice making no concession to the size of his audience. We all leaned in to hear his words, which were punctuated by long pauses. “The mayor called to congratulate me this morning. Mayor Giuliani said the magazine’s gain was the city’s loss.” He gazed around with a satisfied smile.

He went on to say a few more complimentary things and to underscore his high hopes for the future of Gourmet. Then he turned to me. “And now Ruth would like to say a few words.”

I looked at their frightened, expectant faces, and the perfunctory speech I’d memorized vanished from my head. What an idiot I was! It hit me for the first time that not one of these people knew if they still had a job. “You might have to clean house,” I heard Truman saying. They were terrified, and it was up to me to reassure them.

My mind went blank, and I began to be afraid I was going to have a panic attack. The nightmare of my first job interview suddenly came back to me—it was at Esquire magazine, just a few blocks from here, and I was sure I’d forgotten how to breathe. Dizzy and unable to focus, there was such a buzzing in my head that I almost passed out and completely blew the interview. Now my head was filled with the same sounds, and my heart was beating so loudly I was sure everyone could hear it. The silence became thick. People shifted awkwardly. I remember the sound of a fire truck racing down Lexington Avenue, sirens shrieking, and the way the blare filled the room.

I looked around, hoping to catch the eye of the one person I knew at Gourmet; it would be heartening to see a friendly face. But the magazine’s executive food editor, Zanne Stewart, was nowhere in sight. The room was too warm. It was a nightmare. A bead of sweat began to inch its slow way down my back. And still I could not find a single word.

The room began to sway, and it occurred to me that I needed to breathe. Si shot me a worried look. Gina looked distressed.

I forced myself to open my mouth, praying a word would come out. Any word.

Finally I managed: “I’m very happy to meet you all.”

A little frisson of relief zoomed around the room.

“This has all happened very quickly, and I know you’re as stunned as I am.”

There were nods. I must be making sense. Connecting.

“For the next few months”—they all leaned forward again, eager to hear their fate—“I’ll continue to be the restaurant critic of The New York Times.”

An angry rumble traveled through the group. Heads swiveled. They looked at one another in undisguised horror. A few months? “But what about now?” Did someone really say that?

“In the meantime…” The room went quiet. “I hope to get to know you all. I want this magazine to be a group effort, something we create together, so although I’ll still be working at the Times, I’ll be coming in every day, trying to get started.”

Had I really said I was going to do two jobs? I’d been hoping to please them, but it did not seem to be enough.