Long ago when I was a professional cook, I was present at a few food mishaps. The worst was the wedding for 300 when we ran out of stuffed chicken breasts. Fortunately, by the time we discovered the shortage, they were already clearing the first tables served. Let's just say that the last several guests enjoyed chicken medallions. A little extra sauce on top and no one knew any difference.
Then there was the family reunion for 40 who wanted whole lobsters cooked on their ocean front deck. We learned the hard way that those propane- fired pots you can rent do not get hot enough to boil much of anything, and certainly not a dozen two-pound hard shells. We provided a lot of butter lemon and beer and hoped it wouldn't be too bad. It was.
Twenty-five years and fifteen trips to Maine later, I could have solved that one pretty easily. Cooking the lobsters in advance would not be wrong, but a big drift wood fire and pots filled with ocean water and seaweed would have been ideal. Too bad, I can't have a do-over.
Since I left the profession, I've had my share of stressful preps and slightly delayed dinners, but I have to say I feel pretty confident in the kitchen; often it's the place I unwind after a long day. Grill, fry, chop, rinse, sauté? Not usually a problem for me. That must be why I was at somewhat of a loss this evening when dinner was 10 minutes from the table and I discovered that I had charred the ribeyes beyond edibility. Seriously-- they were ruined. It wouldn't have been a big deal except Heidi's parents were here. I considered just fessing up, but without the meat, there wasn't enough to eat.
I whipped a frozen piece of skirt steak and a dozen shrimp from the freezer, thawed them and tossed them on the grill. Everything else was on hold-- the corn in the pot, the potatoes in the oven, the mushrooms on the stove, the sliced tomatoes in the fridge-- as I quickly, but carefully, cooked the main.
It was not my finest result, but it was the best I could do, and everyone seemed to like it just fine.
Then there was the family reunion for 40 who wanted whole lobsters cooked on their ocean front deck. We learned the hard way that those propane- fired pots you can rent do not get hot enough to boil much of anything, and certainly not a dozen two-pound hard shells. We provided a lot of butter lemon and beer and hoped it wouldn't be too bad. It was.
Twenty-five years and fifteen trips to Maine later, I could have solved that one pretty easily. Cooking the lobsters in advance would not be wrong, but a big drift wood fire and pots filled with ocean water and seaweed would have been ideal. Too bad, I can't have a do-over.
Since I left the profession, I've had my share of stressful preps and slightly delayed dinners, but I have to say I feel pretty confident in the kitchen; often it's the place I unwind after a long day. Grill, fry, chop, rinse, sauté? Not usually a problem for me. That must be why I was at somewhat of a loss this evening when dinner was 10 minutes from the table and I discovered that I had charred the ribeyes beyond edibility. Seriously-- they were ruined. It wouldn't have been a big deal except Heidi's parents were here. I considered just fessing up, but without the meat, there wasn't enough to eat.
I whipped a frozen piece of skirt steak and a dozen shrimp from the freezer, thawed them and tossed them on the grill. Everything else was on hold-- the corn in the pot, the potatoes in the oven, the mushrooms on the stove, the sliced tomatoes in the fridge-- as I quickly, but carefully, cooked the main.
It was not my finest result, but it was the best I could do, and everyone seemed to like it just fine.
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