It is hugely expensive to attend a conference, even a small conference. There is the cost of registration added to the air fare and hotel, as well as a hair do and even perhaps some smart new clothes. Then, there is the odd drink or two and maybe a lunch or dinner off site too. All these big bucks are spent with the vague hope something good will come of it.

Networking is the word that hovers on every lip. It is a good word, a good concept but one that may be interpreted in different ways.

Some people plan meetings for every second of every day. With furrowed brow, smart phones and a plethora of digital devices they race about “conducting business.”

I wish I were so organized. I have attended the IACP — International Association of Culinary Professionals — for 30 odd years, and I’ve never had a plan. I just wandered about talking to whoever happened to be nearby. I did carry a stack of business cards, just in case. I found this absolute lack of any sensible organization has worked wonderfully well.

Instead of making “connections,” I have made many lifelong friends. We’ve helped each other with our individual hopes and dreams and yes, business ventures too.

So my fond hope is that everyone attending the IACP  conference in Austin which begins today, will follow their own path and explore every fork in the road. There will be many delightful surprises along the way. And with a little bit of luck, be richly rewarded in ways you never anticipated.

Rick Barger's dog, Cody FOOD JOB: Truffle Taster

A funny thing just happened.

I wrote a little note on Facebook in which I said I was looking for some (any) information about unusual (or weird or interesting) FOOD JOBS.

Right away, I got a response from a friend who suggested a truffle taster. I wrote back, asking him if he knew anyone who tasted truffles. “Yes,” he said, “His dog, but he was open for the job.”

I promised to give him a “Woof” if I heard of anything.

He–”Rick” Barger–answered immediately by sending me a copy of his breathtakingly, brilliant CV (Curriculum Vita). I called him and introduced myself.

We had a super chat, and I suggested he send his resume to the CIA (Culinary Institute of America, Hyde Park) where I work. I noticed he belongs to the IACP (International Association of Culinary Professionals), and we plan now to meet there at the Conference in April in Portland. I’m hoping to he might give me some advice about how to market my FOOD  JOBS book to other culinary schools.

So, today, I say, Hooray for Facebook and Twitter and Google and all the great opportunities we have to network and shake hands and make new friends.

I feel so good, I’m going to make myself a bacon and egg sandwich with lots of ketchup!

Julia Child

For several years I was the final speaker at all the IACP (International Association of Culinary Professionals) conferences. My turn came at the end of the  long and excruciatingly-boring General Meeting lunch session. Customarily there were 1,200 or more (mostly women) in the audience. By the time I made my appearance many bottles of fine wine had been emphatically “tasted.” To state it plainly, more than a few were more than a little tipsy.

It was always anticipated that I would poke fun at all the big time food celebrities (except Julia) and tell funny little stories about the food in the news. One year the words hovering on every lip were Omega-3 fatty acids. Everyone was enchanted with this new discovery that promised life everlasting.

I began my talk by suggested that we would soon be embarking on the Great Cattle Reef Project. This was a scheme in which cows were to be taught how to swim underwater.  They would then produce gallons of Omega-3s that we were all crazy about and no milk that we didn’t want anymore…Laughter…

I described Martha (Stewart) as a cross between Ophelia and Leona Helmsley…Laughter…

Then I talked about world hunger…Silence…

Dejected, I crept from the stage.

Julia approached.

“Irena, dear that was the boringest speech I’ve ever heard,” she said.

She was right. It was.

Instead of giving ‘em the red meat they wanted, I had fed them gruel.

I mention this because watching the great movie, Julie and Julia, I remembered again so many wise things Julia said and did and why it was she who became a national folk hero.

The moral–I still sometimes forget–is to give people what they want. This means listening carefully to and speaking and writing and cooking for what others want. This may not always be precisely what we want.

Julia eventually knew what she wanted. She wanted to be loved. Money was never the motivating force.

By following what Joseph Campbell called her “bliss,” she was like Walter Cronkite. They both achieved the affection and admiration of the nation…and a lasting legacy that was based on honesty, diligent attention to detail and knowing when it is time to leave the stage.