Having gone to the nearly three-hour “Food Oscars” ceremony the past three years, I can confirm that this is impossible, like asking someone at the Academy Awards not to think about movies. Like the Oscars, where people put up with four-plus hours of nonsense just to get to the Vanity Fair party, The Beards are what you suffer through before you get to heaven: the cocktail hour to end all cocktail hours, a smorgasbord featuring bite-size samples from nearly 40 of the country’s top restaurants. The theme this year was “A Cook’s Tour of the World’s Most Enticing Scents and Flavors.” Here’s a whiff of my evening:
1:30 p.m. Let’s back up. The past two years I employed, unsuccessfully, the Starve-Yourself-Then-Gorge-Yourself-Strategy. But my stomach wouldn’t expand as I needed it to. So this year I primed it first, and went with the Gorge-Yourself-Then-Gorge-Yourself-Plan. Four hours before the ceremony, I headed to Katz’s Delicatessen for half a hot dog, half a pastrami sandwich and the better part of a potato knish.
5:50 Lisa Ling is tonight’s Master of Ceremonies. She’s qualified because “she’s had tea with the Dalai Lama,” her bio notes. Behind her are striped awnings, like what you’d see at a market in Morocco-appropriate since the festivities are dubbed “The Spice Connection.” I happened to notice that the font used for SPICE is nearly identical to the font used for The Spice Channel. They’re trying to get us hungry and horny.
7:03 Scratch that. Larry King, helping present the Best New Restaurant Award, thanks his urologist. Owner-chef Tom Colicchio’s restaurant Craft takes the prize, and I have my first true hunger pang. “Craft,” I think, “I love Kraft macaroni and”-stop! Actually, it’s my second one: just minutes ago the Cookbook Hall of Fame award was presented. “Hall of Fame,” I thought. “Babe Ruth … He ate a lot.”
7:35 Flipping to a floorplan of the reception area, I feel like the rebels in “Star Wars” after they stole the Death Star blueprints. Cunningly, I drew up my plan of attack. From the entrance, it’s a short skip to Hudson Valley Foie Gras’s offering: Smoked Foie Gras Pastrami and Prosciutto of Duck Magret with Sauternes-Onion Marmalade. “OK,” I think, “from there I’ll make a”-the lights dim. I call off the attack to watch the touching “In Memoriam” video. Wouldn’t the men and women who dedicated their lives to food be proud that I was maximizing my eating time?
7:36 Yes, they would.
8:15 The one award guaranteed to bring the audience to its feet is the Outstanding Restaurant Award, which is like the Oscar for Best Picture. Not that New York City’s Gotham Bar and Grill doesn’t deserve a standing ovation, but this one’s even more convenient because it gives everyone a head start into the reception room.
8:23 If you watched this scene on TV, it’d look like a report from a United Nations aid site. But instead of relief workers tossing sacks of grain to starving refugees, wait staffs toss Poached Shrimp in Cumin-Scented Olive Oil with Chickpea and Roasted Bell Pepper Salad morsels to starving foodies. The refugees are generally more civil.
8:35 The air inside the ballroom has a gingery-cuminy-vanillay-cardamomy-paprikay-sweaty smell to it. The ironic thing about The Beards is that they celebrate haute cuisine with all the refinement you’d find on a casino buffet line. Both are usually comped, though, so you can’t complain. (Sure you can. Overheard at Ming Tsai’s Star Anise-Foie Gras Chawan Mushi with Yukiguni Maitakes station: “This is absurd! What do you mean there are no more spoons?”)
8:48 Feeling overwhelmed, my colleagues and I head for a healthy glass of 1999 Argentine Cabernet Sauvignon.
8:49 OK, much better.
9:19 People have their theories on navigating this delicious maze: you obviously want to try everything that’s there. I’ve heard the Inside-Out Theory, which says that you attack the stations at the center first, then work toward the perimeter. I’ve heard the Outside-In Theory, too, as well as the All-Desserts-First Theory. We’re adhering to the Roam-Aimlessly Theory, which dictates that you eat whatever, whenever. Right now, whatever happens to be Star Anise and Chocolate Mousse Crepe with Banana Bisque. The crepe, my NEWSWEEK colleague Susannah Meadows says, is a “three-biter,” a title given only to the most delectable delectables worth finishing.
9:39 Lamb Chops with Enzilo’s Pesto-Romano Mashed Potatoes plus Black Pepper Maya Shrimp with Watermelon and Lime Salad plus Petite Flan de Courgette a la Fleur d’Anise plus Cumin and Saffron-Spiced Chicken with Okra, String Beans, Potato, Tomato, Eggplant and Peppers plus Grated Pumpkin Cooked with Ginger-Flavored Sugar Syrup Topped with Raspberry Sauce equals Stomach Ache.
10:02 Water!
10:10 Most of the chaos in the room stems from poor fork management: diners abandon their forks on one of the many dumping trays after every sample, then search frantically for another one. Being experienced Beard poachers, we know to carry our forks with us, folding the tines into a napkin so no one gets stabbed. Those who we don’t stab, however, may get cut-in line, that is. Fair trade, no? What’s not fair is that there’s nothing truly spicy at this celebration of spice; many of the offerings are sort of bland. Says Hubie Greenwald of Mas in Chicago: “You can’t make things too spicy. People get scared off.” If these people don’t have adventurous palates, then who does?
10:17 Dry-Cured Magret Duck Liver Mousse with Chinese Cinnamon and Black Vinegar Reduction plus Soup of Sea Scallops Baked in Tender Coconut with Cardamom and Curry Leaves and Poha Flakes plus Chicken Sauce Prepared with Berebere and Clarified Butter, Hard Boiled Egg with Side of Aieb Cheese and Injira plus Sesame-Crusted Bass with Carrot Puree and Sesame Broth equals Stick A Fork In Me, I’m Done.
