Published Messenger Newspapers, Adelaide, on Wednesday, March 13, 2002

NIGHT OF THE FAT ROUND TABLE


WHEN I found myself in the grandstand at Adelaide Oval, wolfing two sausages and onions oozing sauce, with a bag of hot chips and vinegar nestled between my thighs, moaning, ``Gawwd, I love junk food,'' I knew the diet was in trouble again. I have since abandoned it altogether until I am in a better frame of mind. People on diets should be made to wear identifying badges so other people will not try to lead us into temptation, or tempt fate. My mate Kenny witnessed a brawl last year at the footy when a tubby girl in pink rabbit ears and a mid-riff top, who had been screaming abuse all day, was told by an opposing spectator: ``You're too fat for that top.'' She took out a row of seven innocent bystanders before being ejected. But what hope does a person have of losing weight when, in my case, you are invited to a ``gala dinner'' with 400 other guests to mark the opening of the Regency International Centre for Hospitality, Leisure and Food Studies? A real mouthful. There I was, having abandoned all pretence of self control in the middle of Lent, drooling over a menu of seafood appetisers, duck wonton soup, spice crusted lamb and sago bavarois, with much wine. Gastroporn. Seated on my right was Ian Whyte, an international director of Le Cordon Bleu, who knows my adopted Greek mother Irini from way back; on the left was Ariadne Mavros - misspelt Ariandi on the table card - who introduced herself as professor of microbiology at the University of Athens, working on the human genome project. That's another great thing about food - it brings together people who otherwise might never meet each other, especially if the Greeks are somehow involved. It was not immediately apparent to me what Ariadne, the genome expert, was doing at the Regency Park ``gala dinner'' until she explained that husband Dimitri, next to her, was involved in catering for the 2004 Athens Olympics. I expressed some doubt, based on direct personal experience of Greek insouciance, whether everything would be ready in time for the Olympics. Ah, said Ariadne, Greeks always leave things to the last minute. ``It will be ready, even if every one of us has to take a broom and sweep the streets ourselves.'' We shall see. Dimitri, meantime, was fingering a giant Cuban cigar, not realising the Athens of the South forbade smoking at table, unlike the Athens of the North where smoking is almost mandatory if you want dinner. After a while he began to slowly chew the end of the cigar, and chewed it some more and more, and would surely have started gnawing his arm off had not someone imposed the mercy rule and took him outside to light up. As for me, plump as a pudding afterwards, I might be uncomfortably shaped right now but am still beautifully marked.