The Perils of Working While Sitting ON the Buffet Table

I eat anything and everything I want. Most everyday. What if there were staff of culinary geniuses at your work making incredible edibles every day? Say you could breeze through your office and graze on baby mushroom caps full of crab, sherried breadcrumbs and warm melted cheeses or triple glazed cedar planked salmon with our own Washington cherry-tamarind chutney on crusty baguette. Oh, don't let me forget the Black Satin wings with their dark mahogany finish and underpinnings of Chinese 5 Spice and fresh grated ginger. Sweet potato biscuits (not yams, but the pale yellow bakers) with salty country ham and mustard butter. (heavy on the butter) In the morning there might be French toast strata, all fluffy and warm, laced with cinnamon and brown sugar topped with heated maple syrup and melted butter, thick crisp bacon, the best you have ever tasted and maybe a Morning Glory muffin with fresh pineapple and grated carrots. Just before the noon events you might be able to grab forkfuls of pulled-pork with whiskey garlic sauce or slide down a brat cooked in beer with sauteed sweet onions and peppers. Usually in the afternoon there are just-out-of-the-oven double chocolate chunk cookies with walnuts. Or if not, there are always containers of sugared walnuts, spiced pecans or just plain macadamias. 

By evening, the serious part of the food chain begins to appear from the ovens, stovetop, grills and mixing bowls. Stuffed pork roasts, sea salt and pink crushed peppercorn crusted beef tenderloin, a perfect medium rare with roasted apple horseradish to spoon on top, chicken breast covered with crispy prosciutto and melted fontina cheese...all available.  Hell, I am encouraged to feed...."try this.. here is  new recipe for those, try it....taste this....what do you think of this roasted chili and lime cream sauce...?" So it is MY JOB TO EAT.  I am the owner, of this catering business after all. I do make sales. I have to know what we are selling, right? How can I weave this dream of heavenly comestibles for Mrs. GotRocks' White Winter Party if I ain't got the skinny on the goods?
Skinny is being loosely tossed about as a noun here because it is definitely not an adjective I can use to describe my own body or even any of my alter egos. Built for Comfort, Not Speed is the song I sing. Besides, how could you trust a skinny caterer?