Talking food is her bread and butter

She fills the room with herself by the energy she expends, speaking and gesturing with the verve and enthusiasm of an Olympic gymnast. Talking to Melinda Lee, one expects that at any moment during the conversation, the inherent power of her personality will lift her off the ground and send her flying around the room.

She really, truly, definitely likes what she does, and it shows. I would expect that had she decided in years past to become an auto mechanic, the force of her energy would have been similarly directed toward wrenches, gauges and lug nuts.

I am speaking, of course, of the food queen of KNX-AM (1070) radio, whose weekend shows and weekday segments have become cultural assets in a city that would rather miss sex than dinner, exemplified by the growing number of restaurants and the unthinkable number of those who believe they are gourmet cooks.

I met Melinda Lee in my bathroom, sort of. Each Saturday and Sunday morning I drag myself out of bed, turn on KNX and proceed to shave and shower while Lee is telling me how to deep-fry a turkey or explaining the difference between brown and white onions. The radio dial was set on 1070 not for food news but for the usual update on how the world was destroying itself.

But then, at some point, I began focusing on the chatty, funny, informative voice of Lee. I think I reached some sort of epiphany one morning when she reported that the best paprika comes from Hungary. I’m not sure why that intrigued me and I’m not even sure what paprika is, but from that point on, I was hooked.

We met face to face one autumn day in the home she rents as an office, on a quiet street in suburban Altadena. One might assume that a woman whose job is centered around what to cook for dinner would be grandmotherly or at least modestly subdued in a motherly kind of manner. Au contraire. Lee comes at you with flashing blue eyes, a megawatt smile and a manner that embraces the room she occupies. Somewhere in age between Peter Pan and the middle years, she is an elemental force in herself.

Lee was born to be a “foodie,” as some are born to spelunk and others to leap tall buildings in a single bound. She loved to give parties, and did them so well that an influential guest suggested she start a catering service. She said, “Yes, that’s what I’ll do!” She not only catered parties with a full, uniformed staff, but styled the ones she gave, from music to mussels.

When another friend mentioned that the job of a food-show host was open at KNX, she clicked into high gear with the I-can-do-that attitude (even though she had never listened to the show) and approached the news director by listing her food-oriented assets and announcing that “I am uniquely qualified for the job, and it should be obvious to you that I can talk.”

Self-confidence and enthusiasm bordering on visible flashes of energy won her the day, and in 1986 she stopped being a caterer and became an institution. What she thought might be a part-time job became more than a full-day effort. She discovered to her amazement that there was more to being a radio host than talking.

“I didn’t even know where the mike button was,” she said over homemade pumpkin bread as we sat in the sunlit dining room of her office. “The clock, the calls, live spots, preparations that took longer than the shows, short, medium and long segments.”

She paused, alit for a moment and shook her head at the very memory of the details encompassed by being one of L.A. radio’s icons. “While answering questions [on the air], I have to know how long to talk and not be boring, although I give a little more time to calls with humor in them.” Another pause, then: “At 8 a.m., someone shoots me out of a cannon and I land at noon.”

Lee has laid out her mantra, to be entertaining, informative and relevant, the success of which is measured by five phone lines for incoming calls that are always full. She tries to find an answer for each question either during or after the show. Ask her how long you can store eggs and she’ll tell you on the air (a month, if refrigerated), but “ask me about the hash recipe for a restaurant that went out of business in 1958, and I might not be able to tell you, but at least I’ll respond with an e-mail.” Then she adds, “There are no stupid questions, but some are on the edge.”

A community has formed around Lee wherein callers will share information with other callers. Lillian Zacky, of Zacky Farms, herself a recognizable radio voice, called in to answer a chicken question. Experts in other fields jump aboard when the occasion arises and the mood takes them.

Fun? Sure. But Lee works at it from 12 to 16 hours a day, six days a week, and has little time for cooking at home. Her husband of 32 years, Steve, who selects the music that starts her show, a Randy Newman piece one day, maybe something by Three Dog Night the next, settles for those times when she can cook and accepts catered food when she can’t.

Lee says of him: “He’s my pal.”

Teacher, friend, a mother-in-the-kitchen, Lee endures because, well, she’s smart, loves what she’s doing, has a sense of whimsy and doesn’t report on war and pestilence. As for the difference between a brown onion and a white onion? She answered on the air, with an impish, “Very little.” Then: “If you cut and open one and it makes you cry, it’s a strong onion.”