Living in LA, you run into celebrities here and there even if you don't work within "the biz." While sometimes one can't help but do a "subtle" double take if one spots George Clooney, for example, I generally feel it's best to let celebrities go about their business undisturbed. After all, they have enough to worry about with trying to avoid the paparazzi!
While I generally consider myself unfazed by the glamor and glitz of Hollywood, there was one celebrity I ran into the other day at the market that left me starstruck.
It wasn't an Oscar winner or a Golden Globe nominee, in fact, I'm pretty sure she's not in the Screen Actor's Guild at all. It was the baker from Huckleberry. I mean, I appreciate a good film, but give me a great baker over a great actor any day. Have you tasted their salted caramel bar?! There is no comparison. As I passed her in the store, I thought about telling her how much I admire her work. But then I thought: Would randomly approaching her make me baking paparazzi? Or just a good-intentioned pastry blogging enthusiast? Readers, you decide.
As I was trying to determine the answer to this question, I lost my opportunity, but then made myself feel better about inaction by exploring the cheese section (read: the Liz Lemon approach.) Looking back on it, I'm certain that in the moment, thoughts of Huckleberry's exceptional salted caramel bar paralyzed my rational thought, leaving me in a dreamlike trance, powerless to do anything but long for the SCB and respect its maker from a distance.
And...well, so maybe I was also a little shy. So there you have it. I may live in LA, but it's not the starlets in the red carpet designer gowns that dazzle me, it's the folks in aprons with flour on their hands.
Starstruck by Huckleberry
Santa Monica, CA