It is not easy deciding who gets to lick the spoon —It started out as a perfectly normal workday. A food writer by night, I was working at a consulting firm, out of my lonely cubicle, on the seventh floor of a suburban D.C. office. I worked alone, since most of my teammates were all over the United States, part of what is called a virtual team. It sounds glamorous but translates into being very lonely at work. So imagine my surprise when the receptionist called me to say I had a visitor. I could hear her giggling on the other end of the phone. "Who is it?" I demanded to know. "Well," she hesitated, "it’s a gentleman in a chef’s uniform and he has a picture of you holding your cookbook. Says it’s from The Washington Post."