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www.livingthelifeofholly.com
Living the Life of Holly
By Holly Winter

“Remember. Don’t eat anything. We’ll lunch after.”

Yeah. Right.

First I stopped a booth with sorbet. The watermelon was so good that I had to go back and sample the raspberry. Man. These guys were going to make it. They really knew how to make sorbet.

Next I stopped at a booth that was advertising beef. Hey. Come on. How could I resist? The guy had just finished cooking a big, juicy steak. “I’d love a piece!” I smiled. He cut off a sliver. “I’d love a bigger piece, thanks.” Sure. He lost his smile. But mine grew. Hey. This was the best piece of beef I’d had in a long time.

We were in San Francisco at a food show. Cool-guy had always dreamed of dating a woman who would travel with him for work. Um. His dream came true when he met me, poor guy.

I stood transfixed in front of the next booth. “I had no idea.” I said to the man working behind the counter.

Cool-guy caught up with me. “Holly. This is what you want to look at?”

“I had no idea.” I whispered.

He laughed.

The man vacuuming wasn’t used to having an audience. Restaurant people had seen such things before. And here I was. A first timer.

“Look.” I pointed out. “That vacuum can pick up plastic forks and popcorn and a small hairbrush.”

“I know.” Cool-guy laughed. He turned to the guy working. “She’s not in the industry.”

I watched as he vacuumed up a whole stack of paper napkins. His machine didn’t make those choking noises that mine makes when I try to get it to pick up something small like the tine of a plastic fork.

The floor of his booth was covered in clutter. He methodically moved from child’s shoe to wad of napkins, happily sucking them all up.

Man. I once spent twenty minutes chasing a peppercorn around my kitchen with my vacuum before I gave up and left it there. Lena was visiting later and found it with her bare feet. (She fell instantly to the floor and yelled for tweezers to remove it. She was crippled for the rest of the day.)

Cool-guy took my hand. “Come on. Let’s move on. I need to look at plates.”

“I bet I could save on trash bags with that machine.”

He ignored me.

“I bet it would pick up a mouse and the mousetrap.”

I stopped at a booth that was giving away some famous 100% beef hotdogs. “Are these gluten free?”

“Yes. !00% . Pure. Of course.” The guy who was painted on the package said.

I took a sample. It tasted like a hotdog. “It’s great.”

“Have another sample.” He smiled.

I did. Man. They were salty. No problem. I happened upon another smoothie booth. Strawberry. Then mango. Then another mango. Wow. That was incredible. Ok. One more mango. I mean. Come on. The samples were small.

“Do you like junk mail?” Cool-guy asked.

“Do you ask trick questions?”

He laughed. “You need to take off your name badge. Every time you sample something they’re writing your name. They get your address from the registration information. You’re going to get bombarded with junk mail.”

We were well into the show. “Now you tell me?”

We found a plate booth. “Look honey. A triangle plate.”

Cool-guy’s eyes turned into big triangles. “I love that.”

The company owner came over.

“Look at this one. I like this rectangle one, too. No sides.”

Cool-guy picked up the plate. “This is exactly what we’re looking for.”

While the men exchanged information and arranged for samples to be sent, I wandered over to the wine tasting booth. I mean. Come on. I was in California.

“You’re not wearing your badge.” Booth-boy noticed.

I proudly affixed Cool-guy’s badge to my shirt. You know. His says executive chef. Man. I was treated like a queen.

I tried a red wine that was too sour, then one that was too dry, followed by one that was totally tasteless. I know. I figure that that one was colored water.

Booth-boy was upset. “No. That isn’t colored water. But with your fine pallet I can see that you prefer our more expensive wines.”

Wow. I liked Cool-guy’s name tag.

I tried a white that was too fruity and a white that was just right. But. I didn’t write down the name of the just right white. I could hardly stand at that point.

So. I stopped at a dessert booth for a slice of cheesecake while they tried to pump me for information about where I worked. Oh. Yeah. That name badge. Man. I needed something to soak up that wine. Since they insisted on talking, I had a second piece of cheesecake.

“We’re not used to having someone of your caliber eating our samples.” Booth-girl said.

Oh. Yeah. I was a novice. Cool-guy would NEVER eat at a food show. He was a purist when it came to food. Man. I would eat almost anything that didn’t have eyes attached. I wasn’t representing him well, was I?

I wandered over to the booth with the massage chairs. Hey. Working food shows was hard work. I was ready for a break. I sat in the chair, leaned back, closed my eyes and contemplated lunch. Um. Strange. I wasn’t that hungry.

“Hey. Honey. Are you ready for lunch?”

“Nope.”

“What?” He sat on the arm of my chair. “Have you been sampling?”

“Well. I had some smoothies and wine and cheesecake. Oh. And hotdogs. And steak.”

“Why would you fill up on smoothies, when you could have the best food in San Francisco for lunch?”

“Are you kidding? Did you try that mango smoothie? It’s incredible.”

He laughed and helped me out of the chair. “Let’s go Missy. There’s real food to be eaten in this town. And if you’re not hungry, then I’ll eat yours too.”

“Fine. But. If we’re having mango smoothies for lunch, I’m not sharing.”

Wanna try another column? How about #120 Cheering for All The Wrong Reasons, which was about going to the Rodeo with Kate.

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