One of the highlights or lowlights (depending on your sensitivity to decorum) at this year’s RAMMYs was the appearance of the “mystery” woman on the stage for the announcement of the chef of the year award. With Jeff Tunks, Roberto Donna, and Jeff Buben at her side, she stepped boldly to the podium, leaned into the microphone and mouthed the infamous f-bomb enhanced phrase (with a beautiful smile). In my customary photographer crouch in front, I managed to capture a wonderful photograph of the moment. I, like many who actually heard the words, paused and said to myself, “Did I just hear what I thought I heard?” Those who the words were directed toward missed the whole point … they had not shut up.
Reactions afterwards followed the usual line … the older we were, the more offended we acted. In my less than scientific survey, more than half the people I have spoken to who were there at the moment of the last award presentation say they didn’t hear it. Quite frankly, a person at one of the front row tables told me she missed the whole moment — they were all talking.
Mystery Woman
Equal to the impact of the infamous word, everyone wanted to know, “Who was that woman?” The story is not in the name … a person familiar to us all would never have taken the risk. By the luck of the draw, I knew her … she and her husband sat at my table. It just so happens that at the moment of verbal impact, the only people at our table were my wife and the woman’s husband. My wife reports a jaw-dropping reaction from the surprised spouse. But in the end, the name is not the story. The story is the endless conversation that takes away from the celebration of the best in our industry in Metropolitan Washington. Hospitality people are a gregarious, social group — that’s who we are. And it’s not comfortable for us to be confined to a seat at a table and then to be quiet for two plus hours of awards. So, we talk.
Don’t Shoot the Messenger
If we identify a real issue, then the conversation should shift from the messenger and toward a move to solutions. I know from trying to get back to my table between awards or groups of awards that there were no breaks in the action — just pauses along the way. There is no real sentiment to go the way of the James Beard Foundation awards … an auditorium opening awards ceremony and then an incredible reception with chef-driven specialties and a bevy of glamour drinks. According to one Restaurant Association Metropolitan Washington board member, the event is the major fundraiser for the Association and dependent on corporate table sales. He argues that the reception approach would not allow for table sales and potentially could lower attendance.
Perhaps the answer lies in the approach that the Restaurant Association of Maryland (RAM) uses. Present all the awards at the beginning of dinner. No delays. No running on and off the stage by the emcees. Maryland presented their awards this year in 45 minutes. And then dinner began. Keep a glass of wonderful Chilean wine in front of me and maybe a simple appetizer from the chef and I can behave for an hour … I think. The Duke Zeibert award could even be held until the dessert course to give it a greater level of distinction and then the party could continue. The Egger video was a highlight this year and hopefully that kind of celebration will become a regular feature in honoring the Association’s lifetime achievement winner.
The work of the gallant Gala committee is endless with its tireless crew of industry leaders. I hear they have a meeting in the near future laying the groundwork for 2008. I imagine the conversation will drift to some of the points made above. I look forward to the dynamic results that will shape our next industry celebration.
And I bet they won’t be aiming to shoot the messenger.
