Never mind the fact that back in the saddle for moi, means catering four weddings in a row, up to 200 guests per wedding.
Let me tell you, that's a lot of baby carrots!!
Sheesh!
But it was good to get back to work.
Good to focus on stirring the sauce instead of just how many news folks caught anthrax today.
The first wedding was the roughest, because somehow, after September 11th, making chicken stock just doesn't feel that important anymore.
Then, there were all the small parts of my caterer's work day that have been changed because of the WTC.
Deliveries, take an extra hour or two or three or even (AAAK) four to get through because of the security checks for commercial vans.
But I'm not complaining. I'd much prefer to have my salmon show up three hours late than let another terrorist attack Manhattan.
There there's the little matter of so many businesses abruptly closing.
The day before my first hell weekend, the owner of the company that supplies my pastries called. She spoke in an eerily calm voice: "Due to the loss of our … um … downtown business, we are going out of business … today."
There's nothing like finding and buying 240 pastries on 24 hours' notice to get a girl's blood moving.
But, WTF. Even buying retail doesn't faze me after September 11th.
Nothing does.
So I did what I could to keep my spirits up while helping some lovely couples try to find a way to take a break from death and celebrate life.
I wore an American flag wrapped around my head, which had a twofold effect: It showed my patriotism, and it kept my crazy head of blonde mishegash out of the vegetable curry.
We were all glad to be back at work, back together, this dysfunctional fun-loving group of freaks that make up my catering family.
José is out of work now. His restaurant in Federal Plaza was not be able to recuperate from being shut down for so long. But he was in high spirits all the same. Unemployment and an amazing joie de vivre kept him joking.
"Welllllll, helloooo darlings," he said walking into the party location. "Have you all missed me terribly?!"
"Yes, mamasita!!!" we all replied.
The weddings went fine, natch, all four of them, although there was the little matter of the groom from the first wedding crashing the cocktail hour for the second wedding, the bridesmaids from the second wedding trying to steal my hors d'oeuvre tray flowers, the brother of the groom from the third wedding demanding to be fed three hours before the reception began and the synagogue for the fourth wedding neglecting to mention that they didn't have air conditioning … or, evidentially, an exterminator.
Oyyy!
But for me, it all came together last night. The two brides, (yes, two brides, dearies) were so madly in love that no one in their combined families of very straight Jews and Italians from the outer boroughs could do anything but kvel.
"Kiss her again!" screamed the big-haired aunt from Long Island, and the brides were only to happy to oblige.
I cater a lot of weddings, but rarely see a couple so in love that it's out and out contagious. Even the Equadorean janitor hiding in the sanitation room with a mug of scotch looked touched.
I wound up getting teary-eyed with Carolyn in the kitchen.
"I'll never have that … " she whined while washing the strawberries.
"I want that! I want that!" I bellowed, taking my sorrow out on a very moist eclair.
Oh well. Sugar's almost as good as lov,e isn't it?
Then I hear Bride A announce to the cheering crowd, "Can you join me in thanking a very special person who made this all possible?"
Hmmm. Wonder who that is?
"Rossi, can you come out here please?"
And I am called out, blushing red from head to sauce-covered toe while the guests join the happy brides in a hearty round of applause.
Sigh.
Maybe there's hope for us all yet.
There are certainly enough sweet potatoes.
