Food is something associated with mothers, so I was curious to know what Judi's was like. Interestingly, Judi, who loved her mother dearly, says she wasn't a very good cook. "No spice," Judi says. "And she overcooked everything."

But her grandmother-she was the cook in the family. A little old Jewish lady (Judi showed me pictures), she used to travel, laden down with gefilte fish and borscht, by train from her small apartment in Yonkers up to Connecticut, where Judi lived with her father (a salesman), her mother and her sister. Judi's grandmother would spend the next two days in the kitchen preparing a traditional Jewish holiday meal, with Judi as her rapt pupil.

"I always wanted to be in the kitchen," Judi recalls. She says it the way other people say they always wanted to be in the theater. "I always wanted to scramble the eggs and make the pancakes. I always watched Julia Child."

By high school she knew she wanted to be a cook, an idea her mother thought unwise in those days before cooking and chefs had become a national obsession. A dietitian might have been a suitable profession, but not a cook.

Nevertheless, Judi had her way. She attended Johnson & Wales University, the famous culinary school, in Providence, R.I. "The first year was like boot camp. We were up at 5:30. It was all about slicing and chopping," she recalls.

When Judi left home for Johnson & Wales she fell into the restaurant culture, and she's been there ever since. It's a strange place to the uninitiated, as full of human foibles and larger-than-life characters as a Shakespearean play. When restaurant professionals get together they tell tales of their past adventures-the drunken chef, the crooked partner, the psychotic waitress, the inspector on the take. Judi has seen them all.

She and her first husband owned two restaurants in Gloucester, Mass., but after they divorced she was left without the restaurants but with a son, Eric, to support. So she turned, naturally, to food. She began making desserts for Boston restaurants, including such well-known places as Legal Seafood. "I used recipes for oatmeal raisin cookies I've been making since third grade," Judi says. The company flourished.

But between the cookies and Eric and managing various restaurants, there wasn't much time for a personal life. That is, until Paul Gallagher, who today is assistant principal of Riverview High, kept coming in to one of the restaurants she managed for lunch. He would always order a burger well-done.

He and Judi hit it off. Then they really hit it off. The staff could feel the heat as the two of them discussed what was-and what might be-on the menu. Unfortunately, Judi made it clear that as far as men were concerned she had one strict rule above all others: She could never date a man who ordered his meat well-done. Being Judi, she was serious.

The next day, after what must have been an agonizing night, Paul came in and, in a loud voice, ordered a burger-rare. They've been together for 17 years, married for 10. Their wedding was a three-day affair, during which family and friends gathered in the Berkshires for a series of meals at various renowned restaurants.

When it comes to raising money, Sarasota's cultural groups have something surefire to offer their donors: art. But the service organizations-nonprofits for disadvantaged children and various diseases (in fact, every disease)-have something just as good: food.

The food-charity connection lubricates most of Sarasota's social life. Caterers and restaurateurs are well-known figures here, and the town is restaurant mad. Most local restaurants are very generous at participating in some way or other at charity events, but human nature being what it is, they also realize that it's good for business. The goodwill (and good food) brings in more customers.

Judi's consulting business focuses on helping clients win this kind of exposure. She also does projects involving food cost and staff training, but her "true niche," as she puts it, is what she calls "grass-roots marketing. I take people by the hand and show them my client's product."

Tonight she's taking the hands of some of the town's more prominent fund raisers and showing them Fleming's rib eye. The steakhouse, part of a very upscale chain based in Newport Beach, Calif., is one of her major clients.