Tuesday night at around 10pm, I came home to a blinking answering machine and an e-mail from him. He wanted to throw a luncheon at his place on Thursday. Could I do it? But of course!. I did all the shopping on Wednesday night so I could be at his place at 10:30 this morning. After figuring out how to get up to his apartment (the concierge was about to have a conniption if I tried to load through the main elevator) I started cooking up a storm. He wanted light, no seafood, and "something interesting". Here's the menu we agreed upon:
Salad: Baby Spinach with Strawberries and Toasted Almonds, with Sherry Vinaigrette, and drizzled with reduced balsamic syrup
Entrée: Braciole* with Rich Tomato Sauce, served over Linguini with Steamed Broccoli (*that's not my recipe, it's just to give you an idea of what the stuff is, since hardly anyone knows of it.)
Dessert: Berries in Bed: Mixed Berries in a bed of Puff Pastry, garnished with Chantilly Cream.
I was dead straight on time, with the kitchen nearly cleaned up by 12:30 pm when the guests were to arrive... I asked if he wanted to use the dishes that were already on the table, and I'd plate up the salad, but he said he got a call saying they were running late, I should just put stuff in bowls and leave them on the counter. I thought to myself, "Darlin, you are going to shovel my amazing food out of containers in front of your VIP guests? No way..." I volunteered: ____, I get the impression that this luncheon is pretty important, and I really want to do a good job for you, so if you would like me to, I'll stay until your guests arrive, I don't mind, and I won't charge you any extra." He said, "Oh, isn't that thoughtful, but I have no idea when they're coming, you know how hollywood people are, so no, don't worry about it." and I reiterated that I didn't mind, but he still declined. He said, "but I'm hungry now, so I'll eat some of whatever's ready, and you can wrap the rest up."
So I dished out a plate of everything but the dessert, and put everything else in containers. I put the salad in a casserole-type bowl, since that's all he had. I pulled the braciole out of the oven and snipped off all the little strings, buried them back in their sauce, and covered it with wax paper and then foil. I put the pasta in his own pan, and the broccoli in a bowl. I wrapped up the plate with all the little garnishes that he won't remember to use (strawberry fans for the salad, basil sprigs for the entrée, and mint sprigs for the dessert) I showed him the ziploc bag full of whipped cream and explained how he could snip off the corner and squeeze it out.
Then I cleaned out the sink and got out of there two hours earlier than I expected. I was all geared up for a performance, but it didn't happen. He seemed happy though, and he said everything was delicious, and would I be able to do Personal Chef work for him, could he call me next week. But of course!! I felt awful for him when I looked in his cabinets. There were 8 bottles of Hpnotiq and there was actually canned meat in there. This beautiful, beautiful man eats meat out of a can, and washes it down with Hpnotiq. Maybe he got it for working as a model for them?
Last thing I ate or drank: really killer awesome hamburgers that I made myself. And a corn and black bean salad.
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