Shots from my first catering gig, detailed here. Enjoy!
You want to hear about my first huge kick-ass professional catering experience? Well, you’re gonna. I served traif to Israelis, and they lapped it up like tiny kittens tasting cream for the very first time. (Insert evil laugh here). Traif, for all you non-Jews out there, means non-kosher food. And in this case, oh boy, oh boy did I go all out! The timing was perfect. Perfect! A different tray of hot food came out every ten or fifteen minutes or so. There was just enough food. Not too much left over. Nobody went hungry. And people were raving. I’m thrilled. The menu, for your reading and salivary pleasure:
Bacon wrapped shrimp smothered with Roquefort cheese
Crisp filo triangles of 5 types of wild mushroom sauteed in red wine
Baked prosciutto-wrapped medjoul dates stuffed with almonds (THE hit of the evening)
“Gourmet” deviled eggs, complete with capers, dijon mustard, anchovy paste, and fresh chive
Smoked salmon on garlic dill creme fraiche mousse with fresh thyme
Veal liver and goose fat pate (yes, I made this by myself, from scratch) with homemade fig and onion compote (b-day boy loves figs)
A vegetable platter to end all vegetable platters (carrot, fennel, baby cornichon-style cucumbers, celery, tri-colored peppers, vine-ripened cherry tomatoes) with three homemade dips: slow-roasted sesames in fresh goat labaneh cheese, fried garlic and fresh chive in a creamy farmer’s cheese, and a killer thousand island (don’t ask me why, but Israelis are gaga for 1000 island. It’s like their ranch)
Ceviche of Dennis fish (a local fatty fish), and as the birthday boy cannot stand cilantro (aka fresh leafy coriander), this was made with parsley, ginger, chive, green onion, shallots, lemon zest, lemon juice (of course, to “cook” the fish in), olive oil, salt, pepper, and a dab of chilli (I served them in tiny little cups, like rectangular shot glasses, with adorable wee forks. Gone like hot cakes)
Baked Brie: a lovely creamy brie cheese, raspberry preserves, and slivered almonds, all melted inside the golden loveliness of a buttery puff pastry (the Israelis went orgasmic on this one)
AND
The Main Course
Two Moroccan Tagines:
Beef stewed with onion, garlic, dried apricots, figs, prunes, and dates, seasoned with cinnamon, ginger, allspice, and course black pepper
Eggplant, zucchini, onion, garlic, fresh vine tomatoes, and chick peas, stewed with a bottle of red wine, bay leaves, and a touch of chilli
Both served over couscous
AND
Three salads, of various compositions, the most interesting of which was the fresh baby leaves, red onion, anjou pear, and roasted walnut salad (funny story – totally forgot to make salad dressed and rushed at the very last second, dumping a ton of freshly squeezed lemon juice that I had on hand into some olive oil, and then added a few spoons of the fig jam from the pate, whisked a bit, salt and peppered, and dumped over a couple of the salads, and then used the 1000 island on another one. Well, my lemony concoction apparently went over so well, people were scraping the last bits of salad from those two bowls…1000 island went almost untouched…)
AND
Punch: fresh mint lemonade with ginger, spiked with vodka. Hit the spot.
It was a very ambitious menu. I only realized this after I presented it to the family, them oohing and aahing. It took every bit of effort over the course of the week not to have a panic attack over this. See, the difficulty was this. It was a surprise party. Which meant, this ambitious menu could not be cooked in the house in which it was going to be served. No, oh no. It was arranged that I could use the kitchen of an aunt in the same neighborhood, and then transport all of the food 2 hours before the party was to begin. Right. But this was going to take more than cooking some things on the same day. My uncle very generously offered me his kitchen earlier in the week (my kitchen is less than a galley with absolutely no counter space), and I took him up on it. I was there for about 10 hours on Friday, making as many preparations as possible so that I wouldn’t have a heart attack the following day. The pate was made there. All of the veg for the platter was chopped up there. All of the dips were made. The mushrooms were sauteed there, so they could be rolled into filo the next day. Etc. etc.
I haven’t worked this hard in ages. Maybe ever. And you know what? As hard as this life may be. As strenuous physically as this was and may continue to be. I am still glad I left my high tech job. I’m still over the moon I’m out. I have no regrets. When my finances crash, I may think differently, but I am really OK now. I was really proud of the job I did. The food was very pretty, as stressed as I was. I almost lost it on a few occasions (would you believe that early arrival guests, sitting next to the kitchen, started eating raw shrimp and raw bacon they found on parchment paper on a baking sheet, and managed to eat half of this particular batch before I found them and nearly started fuming and scolding them! How crazy do you have to be to eat that shit raw! They were in the kitchen, for goodness sake…it wasn’t my fault they were butting their noses into my domain! Ee gad!). But I ultimately survived, appeared professional, passed out a couple dozen business cards, and hopefully, hopefully, will get a few jobs out of this. Because this was for family friends. Not exactly a profitable gig. But seeing as it was my first, I proved to myself I could do it. And do it impressively. Score!
I’ve been scattered since the catering gig (sleeping for the better part of 2 days), and I’ve put off blogging. What has been soothing my mind in the last two days is a series of videos I’ll share with you now:
I have had a great respect for Stephen Hawking since I first heard of him when I was 12 years old. I read his book, A Brief History of Time, and it affected me profoundly. So much of what he says, especially in this video, makes complete and utter sense. I am still in disbelief that forty years since the moon landing, we haven’t progressed much farther in terms of humankind’s physical exploration of the solar system. I don’t understand why there hasn’t been an effort to built a lunar colony. It’s so damned close and we’ve been there quite a few times. Mars has been “stalled” in my opinion. We have the capability. Why don’t we go? It’s so important to expand, to explore! To perhaps even save ourselves. As I’ve said before, we only matter to ourselves. We are only doing ourselves a disservice by not moving forward. If we don’t survive, the universe will not weep for us. The universe will be just fine. And even if it isn’t, so what? We won’t be here.
Now some humor:
I love this episode! Dr. Hawking has such a fantastic sense of humor.
Another good old clip. Love Carl Sagan! Yay for curiosity! Yay for the Big Bang!
I discovered this while randomly browsing Youtube, and let me tell you, it’s curiously bizarre. It comes from a Claymation film made in 1986 called The Adventures of Mark Twain. The scene comes from an unfinished and posthumously published novella by Mark Twain called The Mysterious Stranger. It deals with religion, philosophy, and morality, with an angel by the name of Satan playing the main role, one who does not understand right and wrong. The film is fascinating, and this scene is the topper; it was banned in the USA, and it’s always been omitted. If you’d like to see the complete film, it has been uploaded in its entirety (in sections, however), on Youtube. You can find part one here, and navigate from there.
It’s just one of those “world conspiring to do me a huge favor” kind of days. I cannot friggin believe it. I just got back from my writing seminar, and they drop dead loved my book. All the worry. All the absolute convincing-of-myself that I did that the manuscript was just glorified toilet paper. Gone. People really do think it’s something special. Four talented, professional writers think it’s really good. And funny. The leader of the group, the professional writing instructor, told me he laughed out loud several times, and that that never ever happens to him. Ever. And he even read it twice. Twice! And laughed out loud the second time, too, anticipating the funny moments. I am in shock. I am not a failure. What I create may actually have merit. One day I, too, may become a published author, big time. Because the other manuscript we critiqued today, while it was quite good, didn’t receive the all-around, “this was so fun-unique-hilarious-true, etc, etc” that mine did.
And now I’m off to cook for two whole days, starting in about an hour, after I can get my stuff together and over to my uncle’s house who has graciously donated his kitchen for my cause today. Friends will be popping around periodically, and I’m hoping it will be a Martha Stewart meets Mr Rogers meets the cast of Friends kind of day, yet totally productive. Geez, this is even one of the plotlines, when Monica has her won catering company. Actually, it’s the exact plotline, when she takes one of her friends to be the waitress and friends of the family are the first ones to hire her. Wow. Life mimicking art. Naw. That would be going to far. Not that Friends isn’t art…I mean, how silly would it be to think I have a life…ha, ha, ha. Now let’s get to frenzied work! Pate to be made! AHHHHH! Wish me luck!
Under 200 days until 30. Not sure how I feel about that. It has been an eventful 5.5 months, however. Best not to dwell. I’m doing OK today.
Fischer and Cassie-O
My male cat, Fischer, broke a really big heavy glass mirror this morning. He did it by somehow ricocheting off of my leg as he sort of sped, a la Tom and Jerry, through the apartment on a craze of some sort. So, I’m wondering if I’m partially responsible for it. And although I shouldn’t and don’t believe in luck, you never know, and it’s sort of always hanging there. Not really. But I’ve never broken a mirror or aided and abetted in the breaking of a mirror. I mean, I was the silly girl who in high school kissed the ceiling of her car when she passed through a yellow light and held her breath when driving past a cemetery. We used to say, seven years bad sex for anyone who didn’t. But do we believe it? What are your thoughts about superstition? I mean, even if you don’t believe in this stuff, who goes around breaking huge mirrors, you know?
Anyway, it was a messy cleanup, and as I’m messy anyway, it wasn’t fun. This mirror turned into sparkly fairy dust-like powder in some areas. I mean, the microscopic mirror fragments we’re talking about here will make it impossible to walk around without shoes for months. It mixed in with the random kitty litter which was scattered on the floor, and it got in the cracks in the tiles on the floor…ugh.
Cassie-O, dear sweet Cassie-O (Fischer’s little sister, my nickname for Cassiopeia, and a nice take on “Jackie O,” if I do say so myself) has taken to sitting in the crook of my knees when I’m lying down on my side. She, unlike Fischer, the in-your-face ham, doesn’t like to be confined or held in any way, as affectionate as she can be. She needs to feel she has her escape route. It’s just about the cutest thing you can imagine, as she gets right up in there, making a great legwarmer in our cold winter days and nights.
This week is all about planning this party I’m catering on Saturday night. Amazing to have a task this huge and fun. But a lot of logistics. A f-load of logistics. And I may venture forth in to South Tel Aviv, cheapy-ville, for a cut-price food processor today. Making pate for 40 is not fun if you have to do it by hand, that’s for sure. But for now…I’m tres sleepy, having slept over at my lovely guy’s place (where we dealt with a crisis of no water in his apartment, calling the neighbors, the landlord, threatening the landlord, etc, etc), and I want to take a nap before:
That all sounds reasonable, right? Right. Good. Now, let’s snuggle with some cats, now shall I?
Mornings may always be slow for me. Cats wake me up scratching incessantly at my door and crying to be fed. The just don’t get it. I’ve tried to ignore them. You know, teach them that they can’t get to me, so they’ll eventually stop. Not so, not so. It went on for over an hour. Screaming at them helped. But it wasn’t nice. So every day I have to get up at 6 or 7 or so, and I have to feed my cats Then I get back in bed, and I go back to sleep for a couple more hours.
But back to life. I have things to do today. Yes, I do. And it feels good. My house in more of a shambles than it’s ever been. Cats have torn up ever available piece of napkin, paper towel, toilet paper, etc. They are just pissed. Or maybe they think this is their playground. Who knows. So it exists for me to clean up.
But my day, oh my day. This week, as opposed to last week, is dominated by my very first personal chef/catering gig. I’m nervous ans confident. Which is a good place to be. Why? It’s a party like any party I have throw for my parents in the last ten or so years. The hors d’oeuvres I proposed went over like a dream, and I know how to make all of the food on the menu with my eyes shut. It’s all OK. And it’s family friends that are helping me out. I’m psyched. But still, it’s for 40 people, and it will be lot of work, seeing as I don’t have a car, and it’s a surprise party so I can’t use their kitchen except for three hours before. Which means, 80% of the food and all the prep has to be done before I even set foot in their house. OMG.
And I’m going to my shrink today. And I’ve got stuff to discuss, seeing as I had a breakthough last week, and I encountered some difficulty communicating over the weekend in a way that made me quite uncomfortable. I wish I knew how to deal with men. But really, it’s me. Amazing how you can be around a person you love and respect, and yet have problems. It’s like silence is so infinitely heavy. I want to be a better person. I want to be able to express myself and not be afraid that people will reject me or hate me or be offended, whichwould be the worst. Luckily, I don’t think this is a big deal. I’ve really been taking care of myself far more effectively than ever before. I’m thinking of the moment more than the long term, which, smart as it isn’t forever, it needs to be done now. So, I’m taking things a week at a time, at the most. Period.
And then, and then! My uncle calls up yesterday saying he’s got friends who want to improve their spoken English in a hurry. Would I be willing to teach? Well, why not? Seing as they are two of the most interesting people I’ve heard of in a long while. A famous journalist who had her own TV show, and her husband the former cinema professor who is going to Finland next week to present his new documentary, or something like that. Um. No brainer. I’d do it without being paid. But they money would be nice. Minimal fee. Maybe 20 bucks a session. Why on earth not?
So, honey child, get out of your PJs, tidy up a tiny bit, go get yourself some scrummy breakfast over which you can make your ingredient list, then hop over to the grocery store to get prices for everything so you can send in your estimate per head, and then go home to prep for teaching English, which I have barely done and haven’t done for years. Good day. Very good day. And I will not think about my communication problems or about anything negative. So there. And I will put away the jar of Nutella right now!
Good day to you all!
Oh, and I discovered a kick ass blog. Really smart and witty. And oh so amusing and true. Please go visit Unemployed Dad. It really made my evening last night. And hey, he’s an unemplyed dad…the least we could do is take a look, right?
