The Grand Tasting
The day has come! The South Beach Wine & Food Festival has begun (take a look at the video clips) and a block-long tent has been erected on the beach between 11th and 12th streets (12th Street is Gay Beach; how considerate). One hundred restaurants from Palm Beach to Key West have set up their kitchens and sent their chefs to serve The Grand Tasting; oh, yes, we can't forget that over 150 distilleries and vineyards are also being represented and passing out their wares. Over the three day event a parade of chefs has been on hand for seminars and shows. Today I get to meet Iron Chef Masaharu Marimoto, the UK's Nigella Lawson, and our own Rachel Ray; they have their own tents for cooking demonstrations and book signing.
Once again, I'll be going with Carl of The Wire and his staff (I love press passes). Last year Carl and his boys entered the tent and proceeded to stampede like a herd of buffalo to the Dom Perignon table; I never saw them again. I will eat and drink my way through the whole afternoon and then try to remember where I live. I'll wear a wrist bracelet with my name and address just in case.
6 Comments:
Might I suggest the every practical and oh so handy plastic lined purse for leftovers and of course a carafe wedged between your cleavage for spills and it later recycling?
Yes, that WOULD be so much more dignified, knottyboy, than the donkey cart I usually employ to take home my "samples".
More dignified perhaps but the donkey cart has a distinct advantage: Should you become–how shall we put it?–a bit more than tipsy your friends can load you in the cart and you, the cart, and the donkey can happily make your collective ways home. Naturally you need a homing donkey for this and make sure he stays out of the Dom Perignon.
If I were you, I'd drink myself blind, and then find some hot, carmel-skin, latin beauty to carry me home. Have fun dear!
kisses to u alexisssssssssssssssss
i miss u!
Hmm...if anyone had gotten between me and the Dom Perignon table they would have had my stiletto prints all over their back. Emily Post be damned. ;0)
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