(Imagine this next bit said in a wise voice by Morgan Freeman)

There is a mysterious ritual that dates back thousands of years. No living creature has survived it…except the Neuroscientist. Every year, they embark on a nearly impossible journey to share their research. For 5 days and 5 nights, thousands of Neuroscientists will march to a place so extreme that it supports no other life, except a bazillion vendors who hand out really useless squeezie toys. In the harshest place on earth…science, and love, find a way. This is the incredible true story a Neuroscientist’s journey to bring science to the world and soul food to his tummy.

(Ok, it’s me again. You can imagine my voice now. Listen to my podcast if you don’t know what it sounds like)

So I want you to close your eyes (not now, you need to read this first) and conjure up the image of those science fairs you had when you were in 4th grade. Everybody had the same tripartite poster boards with pictures of the solar system, or bread mold, or in my case how the electrolyte content of a solution affects its intrinsic electrical resistivity. So take that image, multiply the people in it by a factor of at least 1,000, make the science really intense, throw in a dash of spring break with few sprigs of band camp, garnish with some very famous keynote speakers and you’ve got the annual Society for Neuroscience (SFN for short) meeting.

SFN usually gets somewhere between 20-40,000 neuroscientists from all around the world and rotates yearly between a group of select cities that can actually host the throng. The most common cities that have held SFN over the last few years are San Diego, DC, and New Orleans. Alas, Katrina put a damper on holding it in N’awlins. This year it was held in Atlanta. From what I hear, not much science gets done when SFN is held in New Orleans… The last time SFN was held in Boston was 1983, and I’m sure we’re due for another one sometime soon—though a very large percentage of us are from Boston in the first place, and we like a vacation now and then.

I had the opportunity to present a poster of my work this year. So with my fancy telescoping poster holder in hand, I made my way south of the Mason-Dixon line to Atlanta, Georgia.

Upon arriving, I immediately met up with Christine, a kindred spirited wayward scientist and old friend from Columbia. After a delightful sunset stroll through a park which included spending twenty minutes feeding carrots to this awesome pet pig named Beef that someone had brought to the park, we hopped in the car transported our empty stomachs to Watershed.

Watershed, which is co-owned by one of the Indigo Girls, features unpretentiously haute cuisine versions of traditional southern dishes in a classy yet minimalist setting. It reminds me several of what one might call gay-chic (not that there’s anything wrong with it) restaurants in New York like Cafeteria and Eatery which feature comfort food in a very sparse environment where everything is typically painted white.

Christine was a former waitress at Watershed, so after a round of hugs and greetings with the staff, we sat down and very soon were presented an appetizer of shrimp grits and a giant piece of homemade flat crusty bread—on the house (the benefits of going somewhere with former staff). These were some of the smoothest grits I’ve ever had, and the bread was just amazing. The quality of the food was punctuated by the fact I hadn’t eaten since a piteous bag of mixed non-peanut-containing trail mix was given to me on the plane.

Christine had been DYING for this food, so when it came to ordering it was not a question of what she would get, but what she could bear to resist getting. The other good thing about going to a restaurant with former staff is that you don’t have to ask the waiter for further elucidation on the dishes, because you have someone who’s had to repeat the descriptions of each dish 10,000 times with you. I ordered the pork chop and Christine got the grouper.

The pork chop, which Christine informed me was “a 14 oz. Niman Ranch chop, brined and pan fried, with mac and cheese (heavy cream, Grafton extra-sharp cheddar [white], Wisconsin sharp yellow cheddar) and a cucumber/tomato/red onion summer salad dressed with an apple-cider vinaigrette,” was really perfectly cooked. It had a nice salinity to it, which was nicely offset by the salad which was sweet, acidic, and frankly was the highlight of the dish.

Now the mac and cheese should have been called “a cheese slurry with some mac in there somewhere.” My god, it was liquid lipid goodness. It’s hard to compare it to standard casserole mac and cheese. It was very much in its own category, and one might even say a different dish entirely. Regardless of what it was, it was damn good.

The grouper, which Christine describes as “a fresh fillet, sautéed in butter and seasoned lightly with salt and pepper, on top of a salad of roasted okra, tomatoes, butter beans, and onions,” was also very well done and a great dish.

I had a really nice time at Watershed and would highly recommend it to others. And what did Christine think about the whole experience? Well, for her…it was pure bliss.

Ok, 920 words already and the conference hasn’t even started. Stay tuned for part II!

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