Accidental Cinderella

Carlos Montigo is a restaurateur and celebrity chef. The former owner of South Miami Beach’s Prima Bella Donna starred in one season of Food TV’s You Want A Piece of Me?

He was born in 1972 in Madrid, Spain and raised in Paris, France. He moved to Miami, Florida after meeting Donna Lewis and together, the two opened Prima Bella Donna. The couple divorced in 2006 citing irreconcilable differences. Lewis is now sole owner of the restaurant and has employed three different chefs in the two years since Montigo has been gone.

Montigo was the center of controversy when a reporter for the Miami Herald initially set out to write a story about Montigo’s refusal of a Michelin star and in the process discovered that the chef had lied about his credentials.

Following the exposé, Food TV terminated Montigo’s contract on the show You Want A Piece of Me.

Lindsay blinked. He lied? Why on earth would a man who was seemingly sitting on top of the world fake his credentials?

She scrolled down to a list of resources the author used for the story. She found a link to the Miami Herald story and clicked on it.

Miami Herald February 10, 2006

Celebrity Chef Spices Up Resume

Carlos Montigo, the celebrity chef/owner of Prima Bella Donna in South Beach, who rose to fame on the wings of the Food TV show You Want a Piece of Me has caught his pants-on-fire. It seems Montigo, 35, falsely positioned himself as a culinary hotshot with hoity-toity credentials. In response, Food TV executives have relieved him of the remainder of his contract. They will show reruns of the episodes that have already been taped.

According to Montigo’s biography on FoodTV.com the chef claimed to hold a diploma from the prestigious Le Cordon Bleu culinary arts school in Paris. Au contraire, say school officials. “Our records cannot substantiate a connection between Monsieur Montigo and the school. He did not earn a Grand Diplome from our institution and should cease and desist connecting himself to Le Cordon Bleu.”

Also, he maintained he was formerly a chef at the Élysée Palace in Paris, the official residence of the French president. That assertion also was proven to be a lie.

Montigo and his representatives did not return phone calls before the publication of this article.

It was like reading about a train wreck. What would possess him to do that? How did he think he could get away with falsifying his background? When you’re in the public eye, you’re begging people to ask questions and snoop around. Well, that’s exactly what she’d ask him tomorrow when they met.

Her conscience protested.

It would be awkward digging up the past, rehashing things he probably wanted to put behind him—asking the tough questions was another aspect she’d found difficult about journalism.

She stared at the black-and-white photo of Carlos on the screen, a shot of Carlos in a leather jacket and a tough look on his handsome face, a publicity shot for You Want A Piece of Me.

But surely if he was promoting himself at the festival he had to know that media would ask questions.

She’d have to. It was her job—especially since Chandler wanted edgy.

Well, as edgy as you could get in a three-minute spot.

She searched some more and viewed Carlos’s Web site, which was all about pitching his new cookbook—published by Lone Wolf Press.

Hmm…never heard of that house.

It also had recipes and a bio that didn’t reveal anything new. It only mentioned his brief relationship with Food TV and his old stomping ground, Prima Bella Donna, in passing.

Nothing about the controversy.

The Food TV site was even less revealing. There was no mention of Carlos Montigo. It was as if he’d never existed in their realm.

She searched hundreds of articles that appeared in her Google search, but they were simply rehashings of the Herald article and didn’t offer anything new.

Until she clicked on one that showed Carlos and a attractive brunette toasting each other on a Mediterranean-styled terrace with a gorgeous water view behind them.

The title of the article, which was presumably written before all hell broke loose, was The Chef and His Prima Donna.

Lindsay skimmed it, wanting to know more about this woman who, according to the article, was no wallflower, and what caused their irreconcilable differences.

They looked so happy in the photo.

According to the article, equal parts of Carlos’s cooking and her charm were responsible for growing their Prima Bella Donna into the toast of the South Beach restaurant scene.

So this was his ex.

Lindsay studied her pretty face and the way Carlos was smiling at her. It reminded her of the way that Luc looked at Sophie.

But no! That was completely different.

Sophie and Luc were happy.

Carlos and Donna were…divorced.

Does love ever last?

How do you go from looking at each other as though the sun rose and set in your love’s eyes to being…irreconcilable?

She blinked away the thought. She had just opened a word processing program on her computer and began to write notes and interview questions when her cell phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Lindsay? It’s Sophie. How are you?”

Thrilled at the sound of her friend’s voice, Lindsay sat up. She set the laptop aside and swung her feet over the side of the bed.

“Sophie, hi! It’s so good to hear your voice, but why on earth are you calling me? You’re on your honeymoon.”

Sophie laughed. “Are you kidding? Do you think I could wait another two weeks to see how your meeting with Carson went? Besides, Luc went down to consult with the concierge about a trip we want to take tomorrow. So I have a few minutes. Tell me how it went.”

For a split second, Lindsay considered playing a joke on Sophie—like they used to kid each other when they worked together—she thought about saying she’d gone home without talking to Chandler…or better yet, that Chandler said, “Thanks, but no, thanks.” But she didn’t have the heart. Not when her friend had been so good to give her this opportunity, and she didn’t want to waste the precious little time they had to talk playing a prank.

“He offered me the job.”

Sophie squealed. “And?”

“And we start shooting tomorrow at the St. Michel Food and Wine festival. In fact, I was working on my interview questions. Oh, Sophie, I don’t know how I will ever repay you for this.”

“You can repay me by knocking the socks off Chandler…and your admiring public.”

“No pressure, huh? Couldn’t I just take you to lunch the next time I see you?”

They both laughed.