Trembling with anticipation and excitement at the prospect of attending my first-ever International Food Bloggers’ conference, sponsored by Foodista, I tentatively stepped out of the ornate and gilded elevator into the rococo-themed lobby and… Wait. What the hell am I doing?

At some point during the Writing With All Five Senses seminar on Day 1 (conducted by Kathleen Flinn, writing teacher and best-selling author of The Sharper Your Knife, the Less You Cry), it became less about describing the lemon, and more about writing romance novels. About a lemon.

I do get the point. Truly, I do. We tend to rely on words like “delicious” and “tasty” in writing about food, rather than specifics that might translate the actual flavors and textures more effectively to you,the Reader. The point of the exercise? To help us find our true “writing voices.” So here’s mine: Fat, Middle-Aged Jewish Lady Who Loves to Cook and Eat. It ain’t romantic, so get over it.

The Art of Recipe Writing discussion brought one valuable point home to me, and should have to others who write recipes with the intention of their reproduction by the folks at home: Be specific! In more than one way, if possible. Nothing irks me more than reading a recipe for, say, guacamole, and seeing the measurement written as: “2 avocados”. Really? In Florida, our avocados are generally 3 times the size of your average California Haas.

Need a visual? Okay. I went strolling through a West Vancouver neighborhood yesterday, and chanced on a lovely open-air market. Here’s a beautiful display of avocados:

Lovely, right? Should I use 2 of these in my recipe? How about a little perspective:

That is an ordinary, normal-sized lemon, as you might see in your own neighborhood grocery store. These were the tiniest avocados I’ve ever seen! If I used only 2 of these in my recipe, wouldn’t the avocado be overwhelmed by the other ingredients?

I see this all the time and it pisses me off. If I need 2 cups of avocado, say so.

Lunch was a disappointment. You may read other recaps of the conference, complaining that there wasn’t enough to eat at lunch on Day 1. I not only didn’t have enough, I didn’t have any.

My understanding is that the chefs invited to prepare our lunch that day, were the créme de la créme of Seattle cuisine. Couldn’t tell by me, ’cause I couldn’t eat any of it. Baby squid with chorizo-coated chickpeas. Steak tartare. Salmon carpaccio. I don’t do raw meat, seafood/fish, or pig in any form. I’m a bad foodie. Oh, and the gluten-free vegan fare? I was prevented from eating any of that, because I’m not a declared vegan/gf. I was chased away by a phalanx of gf women who screeched at me that “At least you have a choice!” My reluctance to get into a fist-fight prevented me from screeching back: “If you can’t eat it, bitch, it ain’t a choice!”

Since the chef, Kaili McIntyre, had apparently informed that she couldn’t possibly prepare enough for 250 people, the organizers did a head-count of those with “special diets”, and only the 25 or so who had identified themselves as “gluten-free” or “vegan”, got to eat any of it, with any leftovers available to the rest of us. My understanding is that several other bloggers simply walked up and took some, but I couldn’t bring myself to do that. Merely stating to Ms. McIntyre that there was nothing else there for me to eat, wasn’t sufficient for her to hand me a plate. “You can have some, if there’s any leftover.” And of course, there wasn’t. Ppppfffffttthh!

Fortunately, they gave us nearly 2 hours for lunch, so a bunch of us trekked off-campus, where I scored this:

Tofu Pad Thai

Yes, my compatriots were jealous.

I had higher hopes for the Secret Sherry Society cocktail party before dinner, but alas, being Spanish-themed, the only appetizers were pork and fish. Again. I think I tweeted around this time that, I was beginning to think that this food bloggers conference thing was just not for me. Sigh.

But the drinks were good!

More later, y’all – I’ve got to get my ass out of this hotel room and score some grub!

Now, read Part Two – I’m not a total Miss Cranky-pants!