Cake for Nancy

For the following account, we owe Rehana a note of gratitude for turning 29, for if it hadn't been her bday yesterday, then we wouldn't have taken her out for dinner, and we wouldn't have been at Jackson Fillmore restaurant for some classic Italian east on the eve of Sun March 29, graced by the presence of Nancy Pelosi.

From the beginning... Whilst waiting for our table, a rather large gentleman wearing a little wire doohickey running up his neck. Hearing aid? Or wire... A second gentleman, this one even larger, walked past, also wired... So at this point it was safe to conclude they were wires, indeed. I announced my sighting and we did a quick scan of the restaurant until we located Nancy Pelosi seated at a table in the back. A quick burst excitement by us until Katie joined us, who had her own burst of excitement (shock-er).

Dinner ended, and was naturally preceded by a chocolately confection topped w/ candles (of the twisted variety, which we don't actually recommend after three uses of them this past weekend, as they are given to 1) extreme leaning, and 2) heavy drippage). We ate our 6 slices (well one us ate 2 as I'm not a cake-eater, myself) and were left with a hefty chunk unfinished. I declared that it'd only be proper to offer Nancy a slice. The idea wasn't as quickly glommed onto as one might've thought, so I took the initiative, and when the waiter came to take our check, and nabbed him and informed him we wanted to send a slice of birthday goodness over to the guest of the hour.

His response was a squinted-eye "really??" followed by my wide-eyed "Yes!" followed by a squintier-eyed "Are you sure?" followed by an enthusiastic "definitely!" He returned with a plate, fork, and cutting knife. So much for accommodating service staff. So I sliced a slab myself, which was ensued by a moment of silence at the table, with gazes fixed dubiously on the cake slice. Rehana informed Katie that it was her job to do the deed. Katied asked why, but really, the response of "b/c you're the only one who will do it" was not a surprise to anyone. I wasn't going to leave her alone, mostly b/c I couldn't pass up the option of having the story to relay. We gently interrupted Nancy's conversation and explained that we wanted to offer her a slice of our friend's bday cake.

Her answer was at first speechlessness followed by a very rapid succession of facial expressions that moved from annoyance to disbelief to skepticism and finally to something that neared friendless, although "near" might be the operative word. Her friends giggled and she responded with the blatant lie that they had just eaten dessert. I bet you they totally didn't eat dessert. I am not really a dessert eater and I like to think I can spot other non-dessert eaters. She instead invited us to give the slice to the Secret Service gentleman seated behind her table. He accepted enthusiastically, but I wondered if before he dug in, he wondered if he was plunging to his death via chocolate turtle cake. Because that was what that was all about: a protectionary measure, right?

Funny to think that this could be your job... eating cake for your manager and whatnot.
Anyway, overall, I'm fairly certain we irritated Nancy at least a little bit, but the way I see it, we are her constituents, so she owes us, right? And at the end of the day, which is really more important: respecting your congress members? Or, finding good story material?

Practicing for Bigger Things

At dinner the other night, Katie F revealed that she has an extensive collection of books directed at a male audience, on the topic of how to effectively pursue women. She also revealed that she feared visiting friends might mistake her, then, for a lesbian... In actuality, she does not have this reading material so she can get some from her female friends, but rather for research purposes. At one point she had resolved to write a book from the female perspective re: the right way to date -- if you want to date women as charming, intelligent, successful, and of course, ravishing as are we. Friends, I've never claimed modesty as a trait.

Anyway, I naturally was interested in this concept and proposed we write said guide jointly. So, that I'm thinking I want to write this little book, I figure I need to practice my writing again...and now, here we are, merrily typing away.

Not that I have much in the way of scintillating material, esp. given that I spend the past two days on a "photo shoot" for work... We're updating our packaging and need photos of dips with their various accoutrements and splendid looking salads. So from 9 to 6:30, on both Wed and Thurs, I worked w/ a food styling and photography team to finalize 4 dips photos, 3 salad photos, and 1 product glamour shot.

I think to be honest they would've preferred me not to be there. I mostly crept around the studio, nibbling cheese and crackers, draining their bottles of Perrier, requesting crudites after their purpose in life was done, and generally wreaking havoc. Actually, I didn't really wreak any havoc. But I wanted to use that phrase b/c I thought it complemented the crudites munching. Oh, I was also the person in charge of saying "approved!" after each shot was finalized.

I like to think I did add some value. For instance, we almost had this crazy large glob of Ranch on the upper left corner of one of the salad-garnishing tomato slices. I requested they wipe it off. I also re-angled some bottles in the glamour shot, and instructed the stylist my preferred method of cutting the green onion for one of the dip garnishes. Of course, there is no way to validate this, but I'm **guessing** that these adjustments likely will lead to our volume being **about** 30% than it would've otherwise have been.

I also learned some things. Do you know what chervil is? Bet you don't. It's a lacy, delicate looking herb that tastes like anise and is typically used for garnish. Did you know that they often used mashed potatoes as a base materials for arranging other food items to keep them firmly in place and allow for beatific arranging? Yep, true! Did you know...that there are people on this earth who, for HOURS, EVERY DAY, painstakingly arrange various consumables into photograph-conducive arrangements? M indicated that there are very few jobs on earth that would prevent him from dating me -- and this job would be one of them. I guess he wasn't as curious about things like chervil and mashed potato use as me, even though he does love food...
Anyway, I supposed I've gained a sufficient amount of writing practice for the day. Plus, I've spread the art of food styling just a little bit broader. If that's not productive, I don't know what is!! Spread the word that I'm bogging again. And try to restrain your excitement...