MY FIRST CONTACT with the late James Beard, the legendary ...

TACT with the late James Beard, the legendary cook, writer and epicure, was in the fourth grade, when I plagiarized from his book Beard on Bread for a report on corn. Since the language proved too sophisticated for me to interpret-I recall the killer phrase was "the sweat of the brow"-I lifted entire passages instead. When I reread the paragraph that I gleaned from his book, I knew there was no way that I could pass off his work as my own and opted to hand in the report late instead. And I was very disappointed with James Beard.

Seventeen years later, I am a first-time guest at the James Beard Foundation Journalism Awards. I admit that I haven't picked up his work since elementary school, though I am certainly aware of the awards. In many ways, the Beard Awards, which recognize excellence in food writing, are similar to the televised award shows that we love and hate. In the 2004 awards issue of Beard House handed out that night (starlets get gift bags; food writers get magazines), a forward by President Len Pickell confirmed my impressions:

"[The founding president and board of trustees] decided to organize the first nationwide food industry awards program, modeling it after the glamorous awards gala of the Hollywood set? By 1996 Time magazine had christened them 'the Oscars of the food world.'"

The evening's events weren't so "glamorous," but did emulate some classic Oscar conventions. Since Billy Crystal was otherwise engaged, actress and playwright Anna Deveare Smith handled the hosting duties. Awards were handed out between the four courses of a tastefully executed meal, which made everything go down easier. While there were no Halle- or Gwyneth-style histrionics, there was the underdog speech-"Here's to all of us frustrated secretaries everywhere-there's hope for us yet!" and the unfunny speech-"I wish I could take the credit, but I owe it all to bacon!" and the mercifully short speech-"Thank you." While no one mentioned WMDs, some nominated titles-"Who Let This Dog Out," "Yeast of Burden," "Amazing Gris"-were equally distressing.

Like Oscar, who sees the same faces win year after year, the only fresh meat I detected that evening was in the cumin-rubbed skirt steak. The Sean Penn of the ceremony was Alan Richman, the charismatic food critic at GQ who beat his own record this year after having picked up his 11th Beard Award. Other familiar names were the L.A. Times' Russ Parsons and Saveur's blustery editor, Colman Andrews. But any good awards show has its upset, which belonged to Food & Wine's Pete Wells, a writer living out his Renee Zellweger moment. The dark horse won in two categories, including a dashing coup against Vogue legend Jeffrey Steingarten.

"I feel like Alan Richman!" he said.