Catering Tale of Woe-No Garlic! Look-A Naked Man!

Catering gigs almost guarantee surprises. The ever changing menus and locations, weather, traffic, guests, hosts, and varying personalities mean change can happen quickly, and often. Booze ups the change factor exponentially.

I was hired by a couple that runs a food related outpost in SF. They were hosting a champagne dinner for 12 at their home in Pacific Heights. My fellow cooking school alum, RF, agreed to help out. Mrs. EW (Euro Wife) didn't have a firm game plan, and was running behind when we arrived. I had tried to get her to map out the prep list and menu on the phone a few days before the event, but she rambled on about how she was thrilled to prepare sturgeon, one of her best dishes.

While RF ironed beautiful family linens in the dining room, I helped make blinis on a griddle. It was frustrating because the first few mini pancakes were gloppy. Once I got the hang of it and adjusted the heat, the blinis stacked up. It was wonderful to sample a blini with thick and creamy creme fraiche and California caviar. I could fill up on that, easily, but stuck to work.

The closer to guest arrival time it got, the more frantic Mrs. EW became. We talked her into going upstairs to get ready, so we could continue cooking. As RF and I began cooking minced garlic, we heard some yelling from Mr. EH (Euro Husband), coming from upstairs. Mrs. EW ran into the kitchen, all wide eyed and crazy looking.

"Oh, no!" she said. "You can't cook garlic, you can't... _________ can not stand the smell of garlic, absolutely can't take it. No, no, noooooooooooooh," _______ being her husband, who came in the kitchen and began yelling about the garlic, fanning his arms as he spoke. He was natty in a blue blazer and dress shirt, with expensive looking loafers. We turned off the burner and stopped cooking. He walked to the doors and allowed cold blasts of air to "Clean that smell out of here!" RF and I shrugged and looked at each other, shivering. I wondered but did not say to Mrs. EW, "OK, why did you have garlic for us to prep, if we can't cook it?"

The fun continued when the guests arrived and began drinking champagne. We were offered small tastes. There was a champagne producer, who explained the flavor profile of each bubbly course. He was a man of short stature, with glasses and a blue beret. A wee bit pompous, and always puffing his chest out as he spoke. His female companion was a good five inches taller, thin, with a hippie-lady vibe & matter of dress.

During one of the courses, an opera singer from Russia performed, with a piano player. That was surreal and beautiful to listen to. She came into the kitchen later, and asked if I knew where the toilet paper in the bathroom was. I didn't. She said there wasn't any in the bathroom. I went and whispered to Mrs. EW, who told me with a slight roll of the eyes that the extra rolls were under the toilet. I went into the bathroom after the Opera Singer had left, and there was blood blotches on the toilet and sink. Ewwwwww. I cleaned it up, shuddering and wishing for a Hazmat suit the whole time.

The topper of the sturgeon-caviar-champagne catering gig was finding a pic of Mr. EH, who always dresses conservatively. In the aged early 1980s era pic pasted to a kitchen cabinet, he has nothing on except a smile. He's standing in the same kitchen we were. RF and I kept giggling to each other and pointing at the picture. What do his two daughters think of that pic?

At the end of the night, Mr. EH brought one of the double magnums of bubbly in, and tilted it back, back, back to his mouth, guzzling the rest of it as we watched, mouths agape. We left before he could strip down and yell about "No Garlic!" After all that, Mrs. EW didn't even tip or offer leftover champagne to us.

Comments

[Greg Dewar - N Judah Chronicles]

Wow. That is truly a unique story. A writer in Hollywood could not make up something nearly as unique as this. Thank you for posting this! :-)

[sam]

I am so going to check out every ferry building outlet now until find the one with the patrons you describe!

[Tea]

Oh my gosh! Now there's a story! I love your catering tales, and this one is classic. Thanks for sharing--I love the vicarious thrill.