Christina had been invited by her instructors at the French Culinary Institute to race in the Chef's Invitational Ski-off! So she rented a sparkly blue car and we drove the hour out of Manhattan to Hunter Mountain.
The mountain itself was nothing compared to what Montana sports on its lowlands, but the air was fresh and cold, and the sky was blue, and getting out of the city made us feel alive again. Christina ended up placing second, losing her championship time to a 50-year-old woman with waxed skis and an aerodynamic spandex bodysuit. That's one chef I wouldn't trust! Allison and I were treated to a mountain-shack barbecue and later got to play Christina's guests at an incredible banquet to honor the racers. We also found time to explore the tourist town of Hunter, which is painted like a gaudy scene from Hello, Dolly! Not a bad way to spend a Sunday, for sure! The best part of the outing was how friendly this group of professionals was, despite their prestige. Every person there learned our names, found a way to engage us in conversation, and went out of their way to be sure we knew we were welcome to extra coconut shrimp. Nice people, those chefs! And not too bad on snow, either.
The drive home was a bit bumpy, with our "wing-it!" approach landing us smack dab in the middle of a Queens cemetery, but we made it home alive and decided that we should have had a Fun-Day Sun-Day a loooong time ago.
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