Cindy McCain's Caesar Salad Secret!

When last we left off, I was in John McCain's dressing room backstage at the Tonight Show on Tuesday, moments before his first post-election media appearance.

John and Cindy showed up without an entourage. They'd lost their Secret Service protection early the next morning after the election. The only person with the McCains was Craig Turk, a former counsel to the senator's 2000 campaign. I went to college with Craig. He's a nice guy.



Senator McCain asked me to join him for a cupcake, then went onstage for his funny and warm appearance. Afterward, as the senator took pictures with servicemen in the audience (it was Veteran's Day and the crowd was all-military), Craig and I chatted backstage. The enigmatic Cindy stood only a few feet apart. She might as well have been in a different galaxy. That's how detached she seemed.

Who is Cindy McCain? Like millions of people, I've always wanted to know -- and though I've met her a few times, I've never managed to break through.

"So how long you in LA?" asked Craig.

"Just until tomorrow," I said.

I paused. Then I decided to say something that might grab Cindy's attention, if only for its sheer quirkiness: I was headed to Tijuana that next morning for CBS News Sunday Morning, to eat Caesar Salad at the restaurant where it was first created in the 1920s. And so I continued: "Then I'm going to Tijuana. To eat some Caesar Salad."

My ploy more than worked. Cindy whipped her head around.

"Really?"

"Yes," I said casually, "you do know that Caesar Salad was created in Tijuana."

"Yes, I did know that," she said pertly. "At Caesar Cardini's restaurant." She was absolutely correct -- and I was thrown.

"How - how did you know that?" I said defensively, as if this was something we should have shared before now.

"Because...," she said, pausing for dramatic effect, "my husband's parents eloped and were married at Caesar's Restaurant."

I gasped. If any moment called for a dramatic soap opera-style chord, it was this.

"Eloped?!" I was reeling. "The Senator's parents? At Caesar's Restaurant?"

Caesar's Bar and Restaurant was a hot spot for Hollywood's glitterati during Prohibition. But I never imagined the late Admiral John S. McCain, Jr. and the regal Roberta Wright getting hitched in such an exotic fleshpot.

The vital and still beautiful Roberta is an awe-inspiring 96, her eyes still piercing, her posture ramrod straight. She's the type of woman for whom ships are named. Indeed she's the reason ships - and countries! - are referred to as "She." Dignified, stately, proud. Had she actively campaigned for her son, I'm convinced he would have been elected. When one comes face to face with Roberta, insubordination is not an option.

"That's right, they eloped to Caesar's," Cindy said, stepping closer. "Not many people know this. But it's true."


Caesar's Bar, the birthplace of the Caesar Salad and the site of John McCain's parents' wedding

I had broken through to Cindy, yes, but she was in total control of this conversation. Perhaps this was the only kind of conversation we could have -- and it was better than nothing. But I had something to add, something I suspected she didn't know.

"Well, Caesar's still serves a great salad. But it's also partly a strip joint," I blurted.

Cindy reared back, a hand to her chest. "Oh my goodness, I won't tell my mother-in-law that."

"No, of course not. You know, I have no problem eating salad in Mexico," I said. "But eating a salad in a strip joint sounds a little ... " (I was about to say "sticky," but caught myself.) "... a little dicey."

"I'll say," said Cindy, wide-eyed. "I've got no problem with salad in Mexico. But a strip joint?"

And then something happened that had never happened between us before: We laughed.


A toast to John and Roberta!


Inside the chapel. (By the way the Caesar Salad is AMAZING. You should definitely check it out.)


Cindy and me, post-laugh

What do you think of Cindy's Caesar Salad revelation? And what do you think of our relationship?