One of the most surprising things I learned in my months of research for Julia’s obit was that the Bammin’ buffoon was once a very serious chef, with actual gravitas, not to mention humility. Clips at the Paley Center couldn’t lie, could they? Among the many sins of the Food Network was turning him into the Bb, but he has no one to blame but himself for what he’s morphed into: a victim of Obama Derangement Syndrome. He’s not Ducasse because black president? What makes that doubly sad is that I still remember my first lunch at NOLA, when my consort and I thought a famous athlete was at a nearby table because the staff was fawning so aggressively over him and his companion. Turned out it was a waiter, given a chance to switch sides; as I’ve ranted before, there could not be a better way to improve service. And now the boss would prefer they don’t get Obamacare, or a living wage. I guess that figures. My other recollection from that first trip to New Orleans was being invited to Thanksgiving at the crowded house of a bunch of NOLA chefs. Who were sleeping on mattresses on the floor in return for the chance to stage with the great one. Wonder how rich they are now . . .