power is hot. so were the wings.

It's not a secret that I love entering amateur food contests.  But, people, I have sat on the other side of the table and it felt good.  The chair on the other side = throne.  The feeling on the other side = power.  Being a judge of a food contest = awesome. 

Did it go to my head?  Little bit.  Let's face it.  I'm not a mega blogger.  I'm not a celebrity, other than in the eyes of my near-three-year-old (who thinks I'm a princess, bless her heart).  I'm not anyone of importance, but slap the 'judge' label on me and I felt preeeetty danged good.  Put a couple or three beers in me in the middle of a Saturday afternoon, and well, it's hard to reign in that ego.

In all seriousness, judging a contest was a fun experience.  The inaugural Music City Southern Hot Wing Festival took place on a gorgeous Saturday in October, and I was among the dozen or so folks tasked with judging the hot wing contest. 

Chris is a connector of people, a walking, talking food encyclopedia, a soon-to-be bestselling book author & one of the nicest all-around people I know.  Unrelated: he asked me to be a judge.

I was only slightly excited.  My friend Brad was only slightly ready for me to pass the wings. 

This guy knows his protein.  Vivek is one of a few hundred in the world doing a charchuterie project. 
How cool is that?

Look, it's Tabitha, baker of amazing macarons & my unofficial style guide.

I'm happiest when I'm among food and friends.  Throw in gorgeous weather, an outdoor venue in downtown Nashville and hot wings, and I'm a happy lady.  Give me a little power and well, I'm ecstatic.  I should note that my darling husband was on the other side of the camera.  If I had to judge companions for the day, I have to say he pulled head of the pack.