I actually could have attended this event.
If I had been on the mailing list. Or, had made a mega donation. Or knew someone who knew someone. Or paid attention to my mail… other than the please remit kind. But, then again, if I had gone, what would I have worn?
Anyway, this serve yourself, pour for yourself, guess what you might be eating and eat it anyway, is clearly setting a pretty high bar for those who cater these fetes.
After all, how many caterers have you talked to who suggested suspending cheese that melts which then dispenses it’s drippings on crackers carefully piled beneath. Really, not your run of the mill cheese whiz on a Ritz.
Performance art eating. I like it.
One could jump into a pile of peanuts, imbibe by turning the spigots on paintings dispensing a beverage of your choosing, or my very favorite, vats of powdered sugar, accompanied by long yellow gloves so one could root around to dig up buried Viennese walnut cookies.
Sounds like it was a hoot. If you went, regale me.
