The food at a food writers conference is, admittedly, better than at many professional conferences, but the buffet still plays a key role. And where there is a fancy resort buffet, there is a carving station. Here’s my strategy when confronted with a carving station: using every bit of charm I can muster, I chit-chat with the carving master before asking if perhaps they have a little end morsel of prime rib tucked away somewhere–an almost-burnt piece of crunchy, concentrated meat. The strategy paid off last night with an entire end cut. I was thrilled until I returned to the table only to realize I couldn’t cut my food. The salad was crunchy. But it wasn’t meaty. Not one little bit.
{ 2008 04 01 }
Post a Comment