February 3 2007

The first meeting of the planning committee for the club cookbook was held last week, and it all went off rather well.
The meeting was ram-rodded by the big fella that everybody calls "Hoss" because he reminds them of Dan Blocker.
"Hoss" showed up with a typed agenda for the meeting. Topics that would serve to steer the committee to discuss those areas that needed basic resolution before the project could really get off the ground.
Little did "Hoss" know that steering that committee anywhere was going to be a lot like herding cats.
Perhaps holding the meeting in a bar was not the best of ideas.
Everybody showed up at different times, which meant that everyone ran out of beer at different times. Since there was no table service, this meant that at any given time, somebody was away from the table buying a fresh beer.
When they came back from the bar, they would want to be filled in on what they had missed. Consequently they and the one filling them in, would miss what would be currently discussed.
As more beer was consumed, there were those who began to dig in their heels relevant to certain ideas that they had for the book.
One or two of these differences were either resolved or exacerbated , as the case may be, coming back from the men’s room or out in the parking lot.
"Hoss" tried his best to maintain a certain level of decorum by pounding on the table and by threatening physical damage to the unruly. But when two female members began throwing wine at each other and dramatically rearranging each other’s clothing, he wisely threw up his hands and headed for the bar to get a drink or two.
But when all was said and done, even though the process was vaguely reminiscent the Israeli Knesset with the gloves off, progress was made.
"Hoss" says that after some projects have been accomplished and some emotions have cooled down a little, he would call another meeting in a couple of weeks.
It will still have to be held in a different bar, of course, but the police, who were club members, convinced the bartender not to press formal charges as long as glasses, ashtrays, and several pieces of furniture were paid for.
The bartender himself, has only barred us for a month, and thought it was kind of nice to see people so passionate about cooking food.
"What’s the name of the cookbook going to be?" the bartender asked.
Some one replied, "Texas Food-chain Massacre."
"Nice," said the bartender, ‘Very nice.

Till next week
Helga Biermeister
Secretary