This is when the galley gets to show off. And they do a splendid job.
Lots of food.
Cute and clever food.
One of the more humorous aspects of the grand gala buffet is watching the guests. They hover taking photos (ok, I participate in that) and then, after the presentation of the chefs and galley staff, the guests descend upon the stations as if they have never had a meal in their lives. Rail-thin women who up until now have barely eaten more than a lettuce leaf walk by with plates piled precariously with lobster and shrimp. Middle-aged men defy their cardiologists by heaping slab after slab of prime rib onto plates. Ladies of a certain age who NEVER touch dessert hand over plates loaded with 6 or 9 mini sweets to waiting staff so they aren't publicly responsible for their actions.
And they go back. And back. And back.
It's a feeding frenzy. In our family lingo, the gala buffet is nicknamed the Chum Fest.
I've learned a secret, though. The same food that is at the gala buffet is also available upstairs, without the crowds. Which is where we retreat after having a good laugh at the run for the lobster.
And Lookchin?
He's happy with his nightly pillow chocolates.
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