I eat I drink I work

I made my first visit to Fine Food Australia this year -- “the definitive exhibition for the food, beverage and hospitality industry” -- held at Jeff’s Shed on the Yarra. Funnily enough, my first time visiting the exhibition, now in its twenty seventh year, occurred only after I had started my first non-hospitality job. Like many others, my student days were funded by odd jobs in hospitality: the kitchen of a crazy hotel buffet restaurant, the Gold Class area of a cinema, an expensive cookware store and a couple of cafés. As an erstwhile hospitality worker, and committed food-lover, I was excited to see Fine Food Australia's shiny new products, equipment and innovations.

A tight work schedule only allowed me a single visit, so I’d devised a seemingly foolproof plan. I’d tram to the exhibition straight from work, visit only my areas of interest – Bakery World, Confectionery World, and Convenience World – acquire some interesting material (and samples!), and be home in time for the Adults Only episode of Two and a Half Men. It was an ambitious plan. A little too ambitious, as it turned out.

It all quickly unravelled as I stepped into the hall. As a newcomer to the trade fair world, I had underestimated the scale of the whole event, and the lack of information on the website had confounded my efforts to plan in advance. With its 30,000 square metres of floor space, the hall was packed with hundreds of exhibitors, thousands of visitors, and your intrepid writer, trying to navigate her way and make sense of it all.

I worked my way from east to west, trying to see as many stalls as possible from all areas. Being a trade fair, the event was all about individual exhibitors selling their wares. I found the exhibitors ranged from over-eager to downright dismissive. Most seemed quite keen to talk about their product, but more than once did I see a salesperson’s face drop as they realised I was just media, at which point they swiftly moved on to the next potential buyer. The hard sell didn’t particularly bother me, but if I had been there to source new products or equipment, the aggressive salespeople at many of the stands would have been off-putting.

New food products were part of the plan and I managed to sample a range of tidbits. Chips fried in Carotino palm oil were crunchy and light. As a bonus, “feeding your family Carotino palm oil gives them all the nutrients they’d normally get in a vitamin supplement”. This information was given to every person visiting the stand. Hard sell. Edgell instant mashed potato in a carton certainly had the edge over Deb, and would be fantastic for buffet restaurants, but I wasn’t convinced that it counts as “fine food”. The same goes for Bad Girl sugar free energy drink. I hope I wasn’t the only one who felt uncomfortable accepting “Bad Girl” energy drink from a bored-looking young lady in a mini-skirt. (Product conclusion: actually not bad at all!)

The most exciting discovery of the evening was spinach juice, only accepted as a second choice when the friendly guy at a Thai stand informed me that they were out of mangosteen juice. The liquid was a deep, snooker-table green and served in a small plastic shot glass, looking too much like wheatgrass for my liking. I was, however, pleasantly surprised: unlike wheatgrass, it was definitely potable! More than that, it was actually quite pleasant – a bit sweet, and full of iron and vitamin C.

I was hoping to see a lot more new and exciting innovations in hospitality equipment, but these seemed to be lacking. On the contrary, I found the event to be full of trips down memory lane. The SupaFry deep fryer that I had used at the cinema – with frying basket and hot oil securely enclosed behind a metal door, it was the only fryer with which we could be trusted. The ugly, fragile glass bowls that I remember trying to sell as sexy modern serving dishes: “Wouldn’t they be great for a degusation menu?” It was fun reminiscing, but that would hardly be the aim of most visitors.

A few hours later, full of sugar and salt, and thoroughly exhausted, I stumbled out of Jeff’s Shed and headed home. I’d made a few interesting food discoveries, but realised, sadly, that the show seemed big on the sales pitch, and small on the substance.