In college the extent of my culinary knowledge consisted of Hot Pockets, Budweiser, and Jagermeister.  I had never heard of Food & Wine Magazine, Jacques Pepin, or Mario Batali, and I knew even less about wine.  What I was quite familiar with was the concept of many people gathering to eat and drink for days on end.  In Texas we called it a party.  In Aspen they call it “The Classic”.  Regardless, when I was told it would be the biggest party that summer, I knew I had found an excuse to stick around.  Once the event began, I knew that I was in for an amazing summer.

One season turned into another into another, and somewhere along the way Aspen became my home.  The Food & Wine Classic also became a tradition. Every summer when the event came to town, I had to be there.  I found myself at food seminars hosted by celebrity chefs, private parties thrown by major liquor companies, and Grand Tastings where the vino never runs out.  Somewhere along the way I stopped eating Hot Pockets and began to cook, and I even learned a thing or two about wine.

In 2006 I started an online guide to Aspen restaurants called Foodie Aspen.  The website gradually grew and continued to gain steam, enough to merit press credentials for this year’s Food & Wine Classic.  I had unexpectedly taken the leap into the official world of professional media.  The press pass would give me full access to every official tasting, seminar, and party. 

With credentials like that at an event like this, I should have known exactly where the weekend was headed.  Still, I proceeded with all proper intentions.  One week out I sat down and devised a plan of attack, a full itinerary carefully planned to get the most out of every day.  I'd have interviews, articles, photographs, social media updates, blog posts, the whole nine.  I felt thoroughly prepared.

The official weekend events were not scheduled until Friday, but local festivities actually began on that Wednesday.  On Thursday I attended a magazine party, the Food & Wine Meet & Greet, a celebrity chef BBQ, and a late night absinthe and champagne party.  Not surprisingly, my carefully planned itinerary was quickly thrown out the window, and personal carousing did not end until late Sunday afternoon.

Before I knew it, the weekend ended just as quickly as it had begun.  Looking back, I now realize that even though my palette has developed over the years, my inclination for a celebration remains the same.  Monday morning was slightly rough, and requests for press coverage quickly arrived.

I slowly started to piece the days back together, my leads being a pocket schedule guide, a digital camera, business cards, party invitations, text messages, and scattered twitter updates.  I found a folded black and white photograph in the back pocket of a dirty pair of blue jeans.  It was from a late night tequila party, and suddenly everything became clear.

Real press members had been conducting interviews, taking notes, recording recipes, and really making an effort to justify their press status.  I simply conducted myself the way that most Aspen locals would by living in the moment.  I have some great stories from the weekend, but not the type that should be repeated here.  As far as actual press coverage, I had nothing.

It’s quite possible that my first Food & Wine Press Pass may have been my last, but at least it was done right.  Maybe when they send me a denial for credentials next year, it will say something like, "Are you still drunk from last year? No."  It's really better that I don't go again.  My friends can no longer chastise me out of jealousy for having full credentials.  I won’t have to start drinking at 10:30 in the morning for multiple days in a row.  There will be no embarrassing public behavior, no stained teeth, and no ruined clothing.  I can't wait to not go again.  Except for the fact that I loved every second of it. 

There were so many amazing moments packed into those few days.  I attended parties that you would not believe, watched Jose Andres carve roasted pig while trading banter with Ming Tsai, drank absinthe at the Little Nell, ate food prepared by the best new chefs in America, tasted a hundred wines I'll never be able to afford, had a fleeting romantic encounter, made new friends, and was ultimately reminded why I choose to live in Aspen.

"Taste is in the mind, flavor is in the heart," were the words of Michael Chiarello at his cooking seminar.  He explained that we taste through our senses.  Flavor is something more, taste connected to emotion.  When you taste something and associate it with a person or place, that's flavor.  That makes you feel something.  It stays with you.

Even though I had no interviews and no hard facts, what I did have was an unbelievable experience.  That experience is the flavor that Chiarello was talking about.  It’s a combination of all ingredients that create the recipe for The Classic: the food, the wine, the people, the place, toasts, tents, parties, passion, smiles, and laughs.  It’s the kind of experience that I hoped to find when I moved to this little mountain town, and it's the flavor of Food & Wine that will always stay with me.

I arrived late to the final Grand Tasting on Sunday afternoon and was persuaded to attend one last party.  I stayed for a while trying to get back into the spirit, but it was no use.  In my mind the weekend had ended.  I discreetly snuck out the side door and back onto the streets of Aspen that had once again become quiet. I walked down the red brick mall feeling happy to have my quiet town back but sad to see it all end.

I settled on a 75¢ ice cream cone and sat down on a chair facing Wagner Park.  The sun was shining right down the middle of the mall and onto my face, and I watched it disappear over the white tents.  A young man walked by and with a southern accent said, "That's the best damn seat in town." It felt like an appropriate ending.