Breaking: Unfancy food actually kinda fancy.

So I went yesterday to the 2nd Annual Unfancy Food Show in Williamsburg, an answer to the hoity-toity oh-so-slightly-pretentious event happening across the river. I attended it gladly, uncowed by thigh-sticky-making humidity, tightly-packed crowds armed with dangerous pork-on-a-stick, the occasional thunderous rainstorm and the odd self-esteem-deflating skinny hipster. I attended it to say hello to my friends Tom and Emily, and to meet new friends Cathy and Scott. But mostly I attended to eat lots of local chocolate and local ice cream and local honey and local pickles and local ricotta and local pork on a stick. And drink cheap beer and cheap wine and rather expensive bottled water from the Catskills. And all in all, unfancy is not the word I would use, except maybe for the tarps which shielded all the fancy food from the torrential rain. But yummy is a word that comes to mind.

Afterwards we ate meat and cheese and oysters and olives at Marlow & Sons down the street, after a walk through the rain and an incident with a rather bitchy bartender at Diner who couldn't quite get around to asking us if we wanted a drink, presumably because we weren't hip enough, but objected (bitchily, with much raising of eyebrows) to, of all things, an innocent pair of wet shoes placed on her bar. The nerve! But the meat and cheese and oysters and olives were great. Honestly, it was a sort of absurd alterna-foodie day, and now I'm feeling all food-bloggy with my shout-outs and my links, which always kind of makes me want to take a shower, but what the hell. There are far worse things. Than showers. Or alterna-foodie days.

For the annals, under "Irony"

So I, Julie Powell, who has not been on the singles scene since a night at the roller skating ring was considered THE hot date, am being hit up for dating advice. Grub Street called my description of liver as the sexiest food ever "horrifying," which I find oddly gratifying. Glad to have shaken up the douchebags at New York Magazine. Because shaking up douchebags is, always, fun.

Oy.... I mean - "Exciting!"

So, tonight I am going to pop my live-blogging cherry. I'll be at Avery Fisher hall in some dress or other, contributing posts here covering the 2008 James Beard Awards. Which is sure to be very glamorous, and I might even eat some locally grown foie gras or rhubarb gelato or something. I'll be typing away on my iPhone - at least so long as my crappy battery holds out - only it won't be quite as twattish as usual, because I'll actually be working. And I may talk to Jacques Pepin.

This is all very exciting. Except I'm completely going to make an ass of myself, I'm sure. But you know, if that's your thing, please do read along. I'll try to come up with a drinking game or something...

This is my mind on deadline:

It's actually kind of gone over from being horrifying to just hilarious.