Excerpt

Most of the time the dinner parties or cooking classes go quite smoothly and are almost routine. I arrive, set up the kitchen, cook or demonstrate, get the food served and clean up. Then, I say my good-byes and go on my merry way. However, after some parties, I laughed, fumed or just shook my head all the way home.

Then there are other memories like the time: After about 5 minutes of driving, on a private drive, on our way to a catering party, we came to a huge stone wall that went both ways beyond our view, with a wrought iron steel gate. There was a speaker and video camera on both sides of the gate. I rang the buzzer and said, we are the catering company. The gate opened and we drove over a small hill; there were horse pastures and a large house with tennis courts and a small swimming pool. We pulled around and parked to the rear of the house. As I went to the door, a young woman came out and said, youre at the wrong house, this is the servants quarters. Everyone in the van looked at each other and shook their heads. We were then instructed to drive over the next hill. As we topped the hill, we could see what looked like a mansion, like one youd see on the cover of Architect Digest. The stone faced house, looked like it had a eight or ten car garage to one side of the house, with a huge cobble stone driveway leading from to house. There were young oak trees lining the driveway and a large fountain in the middle of a well manicured drive circle. As we drove around to the back of the house, where the stables, tennis courts and pool were located, not to mention a good size putting green that came into view. I got out from the van and knocked at the door. I thought to myself, (you dont see beveled glass in the back door very often, and if you do, not on doors like these.)

On a sad note: There was the time we were greeted by the host, she was in her mid-forties, thinly built but fairly attractive even without her makeup answering the door dressed in jeans. She asked if this was all of the crew. The co-owner/waiter replied, just as you requested. She sat down on a chair, took a deep breath and said: this is going to be a dinner for myself and four dearest friends. This will be the last time we will be together. The five of us have been best friends since attending Saint Marys College together over twenty years ago. Her face saddened as she said, I have terminal brain cancer and have less than three months to live.

Sometimes as a catering chef you are helpful in many ways such as the time: A female guest came into the kitchen right after dinner and said: Chef, I wish to thank you for such a wonderful meal and my new dress. Your dress?, I replied. She broke out into a huge grin and said, last week I was in San Francisco and saw the most beautiful dress. It was fifteen hundred dollars and my husband said, no, way! He was the guy that came in for a second helping of lamb; I told him that if I couldnt get the dress that I was going down to the coffee shop tomorrow morning and tell all of his friends (who know that hes the head of the Cattlemans Association), that he asked for seconds on lamb.



As a chef you never know when the next bit of excitement will rear its head like the time: during a class we were almost ready to open for lunch when, All of the sudden there was a lot of yelling, Chef! Chef, fire! Chef, fire! I looked over across the kitchen where a thick black smoke was bellowing out of the farthest oven in the kitchen. The oven had been turned up to 450 degrees to make the Yorkshire puddings, however, someone had spilled a bunch of grease that was pooled in the bottom of the oven and had went way past its smoke point and ignited. I grabbed the sparkling white tablecloth that was covering a prep-table which housed the onions and potatoes below it, shoved it in a sink that was filled with water and squeezed out the excess as fast as I could, grabbed and handed a fire extinguisher to a student who was standing a few feet from the oven, and calmly told her, hold this, do not pull the pin, hand it to me when I ask for it. She looked real frightened, her hands were shaking as she nodded her head. I asked the closest student to the oven, what was in there? Nothing, was the reply. I grabbed the folded kitchen towel from my back which I kept tucked in my apron (to keep dry) as a pot holder, shut the oven off, opened the door from the side and stood back as flames shot out from the burst of air and then pulled back into the oven. I quickly pulled the lowest oven rack out closest to the flames, closed the door with my foot. Took the wet tablecloth and folded it into a square, had a student open the door where the flames shot out again, and tossed it in the oven covering the flames, closing the door with my foot. The black smoke went white with steam and I said, whos the new Pope? The fire was out

Just ask any caterer or chef if they have any funny stories, and be ready to laugh for an hour or so. But, dont laugh too hard, they may be talking about you!

For those of you who are considering hiring a chef to prepare a meal or having an event catered in your home, the more information you can share with the chef about your kitchen (be truthful), the event, food allergies or concerns and of course the menu and timing, the better off both of you will be. The last sentence is paramount in making your dinner, party or event a success, remember you hired us to make you look good! Because, we would rather not have a story to tell, about what went wrong (Oh yea, clear off your counters and give us some shelf space in your refrigerator.)

I hope you enjoy the book.

Chef Clyde Serda