Food Writer Blues

The following conversation took place during an opening dinner of Egyptian Food Festival in some international chain hotel at a long table set inside a Middle Eastern-style tent where everybody had to sit on the carpeted floor.

I sat next to a lady journalist from some not so elegant publication (I firmly believe that journalists pretty much show the caste of certain publications belong to), who was worried too much of covering the event. Instead of savoring every item on her plate, she kept moving around the buffet tables, walking in front of the Egyptian guest chef without having enough guts to talk to him due to language barrier, and ended up asking the Director of Public Relations: "what time is breakfast here?" (Oh come on! She could've at least asked the room number of the kind of cute Egyptian guest chef!)

And in front of me, there were sitting 2 girls from Circulation Department of a bit more elegant publication than the one the lady journalist worked for, but it was plain to see they were not really into exotic food, for they only ate the mundane steamed rice and beef "rendang", instead of the items being promoted.

I: Have you tried the "pastel"-like appetizer? It's really good with feta cheese inside!
(trying to make a small talk with the lady journalist and the 2 girls)

Lady journalist: No. All the food here tastes weird.

(Even when hearing it, I instantly felt my pulse racing wildly that I had to hold my breath and do the countdown 10 to 1. But it failed that I had to imagine the beautiful, secret place like what's taught in my meditation class whenever the world is just too terrible to deal with.

This is the part I hate the most whenever attending food promotions of foreign, especially exotic countries and sitting with not so elegant journalists. If you're to write about food, please please be aware that most likely you're not assigned to write the staple food you eat everyday that can be found just about everywhere in the place you live! Please.)

One of the girls among the 2: What's feta cheese, anyway?

I: It's a kind of cheese made of goat milk.

(It irritates me sitting at the same table with people at an exotic food promotion who don't even know what feta cheese is! At least they could've done some research on what they're about to get themselves into before leaving for any food promotion. It's high time people knew better things to do with their computer other than logging on Friendster! Besides, they were invited to the event for a purpose, which I believe that does not at all include eating steam rice and beef "rendang"!)

One of the girls among the 2: Wow, you seem to know much about food! You must like eating. I can it see from...

I: The size of my body?

(It was indeed the first time I felt good about myself when someone was referring to my not so Victoria's Secrets lingerie models' curves)

And girls, and you too, too-much stressed-out lady journalist with lack of brains, I can't wait to sit with you all again at next exotic food promotion!