We are treated to some drinks in the bar—oh yeah, I could do this part of the tour!—and then are herded into a private room for our cooking lesson. Chef Dave, who heads up the Driskill Grill, is going to show us how each dish is made. He was recently in an Iron Chef America competition and lost to Bobby Flay. Dude. Bobby Flay kind of sucks.

“Chef Dave—Bobby Flay sucks!” I tell him. He smiles and tries to act politically correct, but I can tell he hates him too.

Chef Dave explains that most of us don’t like to do our jobs at home, meaning he doesn’t really cook all that much.

“I definitely don’t do marketing at home,” G$ says, and those of us on the back row (me and JC) snicker.

“Who cooked last night?” Chef Dave wants to know, and several of us raise our hands. It turns out G$ is the winner for the most complicated meal, which consisted of various cereals. Awesome!

Chef Dave asks us if we know the four basic flavors. We start yelling the answers, like the mature dinner attendees that we are. It turns out they are: sweet, sour, bitter and salty. Sounds like some of the X-boys! He goes on to explain that in addition to flavors, a chef should always consider mouth feel. This might be Chef Dave’s favorite term. It is so juvenile to be entertained by this, but, yet, I am. And JC is barely holding it together. Every time he hears it, he shudders with laughter.

Chef Dave holds up a mushroom. “Which flavor is this?”

“Delicious!” G$ yells. Me and JC laugh some more. We are clearly becoming the bad kids.

The yam and the sweet potato are discussed in detail. It turns out they are indeed different. But both are still not tasty, in my opinion. It has something to do with mouth feel, I think.

Chef Dave teaches us that a cold pan + oil = bad. Damn, I have been breaking all kinds of cooking rules. Well, when I do cook…

He is also going to treat the group to some “black and blue” steak. No one knows what that means. I raise my hand: “I do! I do!” Okay, I have kind of become a teacher’s pet. Everyone sneers at my knowledge, because I am vegetarian. But I am correct: black and blue means burned on the outside, raw on the inside. I proudly declare I know this because I used to live in Lubbock and well, oh damn, it’s a long story.

G$ looks a little pained at how her steak will be cooked. “Aren’t there safety issues with undercooked meat?” she whispers.

I shrug. “Maybe you should have the veggie plate?”

We try to settle more Great Food Questions. What makes an enchilada and enchilada and not a taco? Is a javelina the same as a wild boar? What about prawns versus shrimp? The conversation devolves into discussion about Pamela and Kid Rock breaking up, and what’s up with Britney’s bad behavior these days.

In the meantime, Chef Dave is whipping up some delicious entrees. Well, he’s showing us how they are done while they come in from the side door to the kitchen. It’s like magic! And even more magical is how my wine glass stays full.

“How many glasses have you had?” JC asks, because I won’t stop saying the words mouth feel to him.

“That is the same glass I have had all night,” I point out.

After dinner we adjourn to the bar for a nightcap. JC is headed to Hawaii for not one, but two Pearl Jam shows, and I am so jealous I drag him and his colleague Fin into a lengthy discussion on my theory that every album’s best song is number five. It’s so much fun nerding out on Pearl Jam. Who knew there were still fans out there like this? I try and convince Fin to move to Austin so we can sit around, drink beer and play PJ CDs together while jamming to our favorite songs. I think he is considering it.