Food Allergy Counseling

Food Allergy Counseling
Sloane Miller, Food Allergy Counselor (Picture © Noel Malcolm 2013)

Wednesday, August 23, 2006

Dining For Darfur

This was really a Sipping and Spitting for Darfur event.

Held on the 7th floor of the Puck building--in fact it looked a lot like the place where the wedding scene was shot for WHEN HARRY MET SALLY where, as Stephanie pointed, out this exchange occurred:

Sally: Yes...Is one of us supposed to be a dog in this scenario?
Harry: Yes.
Sally: Who is the dog?
Harry: You are.
Sally: I am? I am the dog?
Harry: Um-hmm.
Sally: I am the dog. I-I don't see that Harry. If anybody is the dog, you are the dog.

Anyway, lots of long tables draped in white linen, stainless steel mini-spittoons, coffee grounds to clear the nose and pitchers of water to wash the glasses were set-up for a serious tasting. We picked up our wine glass at the door and wandered through wines from France, Italy, Argentina, Australia, Greece, California and the Pacific Northwest. The tasting was set up very well as there was plenty of room between tables, the room was well ventilated and the view of the sunset spectacular.

The food however was entirely lacking.

In the farthest right corner was one small table with one plate of lox and one plate of pate—there were a few slices of bread and that was it. It was paltry esp. as it was sponsored by Blue Ribbon. A complete disappointment. I mentioned this to Warren, one of the T. Edward Wines reps, who apologized profusely and explained that since this was their first event, clearly that had some issues to work out.

Luckily I had eaten before hand; otherwise I would have been very unhappy and very hungry. And very allegic since salmon is one of my seriously-allergic-no-nos.

However, at the end of the night, Chad the wine guy from Walla Walla gave me what turned out to be my favorite wine—this lovely Syrah--so I really can't complain too much.



Alexandra, Stephanie and I continued the party with a high school friend of Alexandra’s that she bumped into and his buddies.

We had designs on Ñ, where I was looking forward to some sweet sherry and a slice or two of tortilla, but it was jammed jammed jammed.

We settled on L’Orange Bleu up the street, a French-Moroccan spot. Nice, except there really wasn’t much I could eat safely. They had a tapas option, and even a Spanish style tortilla, but it was made with peanut oil, and even though I’m not allergic, I just didn’t feel like dealing.

So the majority of the table had mussels and I watched. Kinda sad. One of those nights where I just didn't feel like getting into the whole deal. One of those punked out nights.

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