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Coming back from vacation is depressing enough without being inundated with a huge work load. I think there needs to be a post-vacation period in which everyone is allowed a good solid 4 days to slowly reintegrate back into their jobs. Every time I turn around there's an issue to be addressed and a stack of phone messages dying to be dealt with.

A Whore's Work Is Never Done, that's for sure.

So I was talking with The Sister who was part of the group I traveled with on our recent excursion to the opposite coast. We were reminiscing about the food we were served at the event we attended during the Key West portion of our trip.

Oh, did I mention we went to Key West? Fabulous place. Just Fabulous. I will tell you all about on the next go around.

Anyway.

We attended a function on the Island - a catered affair. It was so nice to sit and relax for once and not have to worry about a thing. My biggest concern was getting in line for drinks to allow myself enough time to never have a fully-gone mojito.

I did feel empathy for the caterers, though. Working in that kind of heat and humidity is merciless and the waiters floating in and out of the crowds (hauling platters of fresh sushi and coconut prawns) were showing the strains of it all.

And the heat apparently had a mind-numbing effect on The Meat Carving Chef, too.

The Friend in Texas (another to join the trip) was in line ahead of me and when asked by The Meat Carving Chef how she liked her beef done, she responded, "Medium Rare". And The Meat Carving Chef pushed a piece of well-done beef toward her plate.

And there's a lot of things The Friend in Texas will overlook, but serving her the wrong slice of beef is not one of them.

There were a few words exchanged. The Meat Carving Chef was trying to be suave and flirtatious but The Friend in Texas wasn't having it. She got her medium rare beef and a little wink and I am pretty sure she responded with an under-the-breath "go screw yourself, buddy", but I can't be certain.

She did, however, continue to bitch about his inability to know the difference between medium rare and well-done. And I can't blame her. The guy was an idiot.

And just so we're clear, The Friend in Texas is quite a charming young woman. But I make no jokes when I say she takes her beef seriously. She does live in Texas, after all.

So the rest of the night was fabulous and a good time was had by all. Pictures were taken, drinks were drank, and a few brave enough to face the heat danced to the sounds of Barry Cuda and his fine band. As the night dwindled we opted to walk back to our hotel so we could catch the sighs on the infamous Duval Street and who do we see standing in the middle of the sidewalk but The Meat Carving Chef, himself.

Well, he wasn't so much standing as he was kind of swaying back and forth.

His chef jacket was unbottoned down to his waist and it was covered in the juice and blood of the aforementioned beef he carved. And he was trying to get his hands on anyone who would stand still long enough. The Sister and I, included. Due to his apparent intoxication, it didn't take much to escape his grasp.

It's a good thing, too, because beef blood on his jacket would have been the least of his concerns.

Posted by Foodwhore at May 31, 2005 03:49 PM

Posted by: Zin at June 1, 2005 09:45 AM

Posted by: shelley at June 1, 2005 03:12 PM

Posted by: CarrieCann at June 1, 2005 11:53 PM