Yesterday I had the opportunity to spend a little time in the kitchen of Daniel Boulud's eponymous New York restaurant, Daniel. I got to make chicken wings with the man himself for a video a friend is producing. Stupidly, I chose not to wear whites, and thought street clothes would make the bit more "authentic" for the home cook. So I was standing there in a gray cashmere sweater and jeans (I did wear my clogs at least) with an apron tied around my waist. Daniel was demonstrating how to prep the wings, which involved sectioning the wing into three parts. WHACK! He came down hard with his chef's knife on the joint, and blood went flying. Flying right onto the sleeve of my sweater! Daniel was very gracious and tried to wipe it off with a dish towel, but that only smeared it around. We had a good laugh about it and my sweater is now at the cleaners. But I've learned my lesson (a lesson, incidentally, I'd already learned but chose to ignore) and next time, I'll be wearing whites. And standing clear of Daniel Boulud when he's wielding his knife and whacking at wings.