Ugh.  I have long been a fan of Mario Batali: love his cooking style, love him on The Chew, love his orange crocs. And he obeys my rule about celebrity chefs: you can’t trust a thin one.

But the recent news about the lawsuit he settled with his waitstaff and buspeople bums me out. According to the complaint, Batali was skimming tips. Bad show! But who knows what really happened, I guess. Which is why I am still posting a little stream-of-consciousness prose I wrote some months back – called “My Dinner Date with Mario Batali” (a fictitious date, of course):

There are several reasons why I would choose star chef Mario Batali as my dinner date… if I were selecting such a person from the ranks of the (rich and) famous.

First, I am a self-proclaimed foodie. I love to eat, I love to cook, and I even have the privilege of being paid to write about food on occasion. So courting Mario at a table for two over several decadent courses would be inspiring on many levels, the most basic being our mutual adoration of the activity itself.

Second, the simplicity with which Mario creates his signature dishes is truly an art form, so I imagine our dinner somewhere authentically Italian, with detailed chit chat about things like the origin of the olive oil, the freshness of the herbs, the beauty of braising lesser cuts of meat, and so on. It’s not often you get the chance to dine with someone who would appreciate the most rustic qualities of the meal, right down to the kind of dirt in which the vegetables were grown.

Third is the wine factor. Mario always pairs his food with wine, and even has a wonderful Italian wine boutique in Greenwich Village. So I know I would indulge in some superior vino during our time together.

Fourth, this guy makes his living making food, but he actually has a brand. His encircled “M” logo appeals to my marketing side, as it dresses the upper left corner of every restaurant, retail food product, wine shop and cooking show in his empire.

Fifth — and most trivial yet undeniably important — is the fact that this dude is large. From a female perspective, my modest “medium-sized” frame would seem just a shadow of Batali’s, therefore I could stuff myself with homemade ravioli and still feel svelte.

Ok, so I said it. I just like the guy.  I do hope this wrong he allegedly made isn’t true… although it probably is. Why else would he settle and pay more than $5 million to make it go away?

Break ups are hard.