Out to Lunch by Stacey Ballis Read Free Book Online Page A

catering and not in a restaurant. Successful catering is a thousand percent about giving the customer something they want at a level beyond what they dreamed possible. It’s about tapping into their deepest desires and delivering it perfectly to everyone at the same time. Restaurant chefs can often sneer at caterers, thinking that so much of what we do lacks creativity, isn’t as badass as working the line in a churn and burn; we don’t have the pressure of the critics or the next hot Top Cheftestant’s new place to deal with.
    But chefs who really know their shit know that the exact opposite is true. We don’t have a handful of critics or Yelpers and bloggers who may or may not like what we do, we don’t have places full of people who have chosen on purpose to come dine at our establishments; we often have five hundred people at one time who did not choose us, who love to stand around and snark about whether the tuna tartare is spicy enough or chopped too coarsely. We have to deliver an exceptional dining experience where we usually have no control over space, flow, timing, equipment, or audience. We can’t, most often, craft a perfect menu that we know will wow and flow, because menus come together by committee and the bride is afraid of anything with a sauce because it might get on her dress, or the eightysomething gala chair still thinks filet and salmon are the only two possible elegant entrée options, and no amount of prodding will get her to pick the skate wing and hanger steak instead.
    We sit through endless tastings where people with Naugahyde for palates pick apart our dishes and offer suggestions and changes that we? HAVE TO MAKE. I happen to love a braised pork cheek garnished with crispy bits of fried pig ear, or a smoked bison tongue salad. But I have yet to meet a client who wants me to make that for their daughter’s sweet sixteen.
    And at the end of the day, if I can bring integrity to one more chicken breast dinner, to the “trio of salads” ladies’ luncheon, to the surprise hot dog cart at the end of the wedding, perfectly snappy grilled Vienna Beef beauties with homemade steamed buns and all seven of the classic Chicago Dog toppings, then I have done my job and might get another.
    What’s the task that all those TV cooking competition folks fall down on? The ones that knock out the favorites and even presumed winners? The Wedding Challenge. The Quinceañera Challenge. The Fundraiser Challenge. Even the Masters, already famous and multi-restauranted and Michelin starred, competing for charity? The cake falls, the apps aren’t hot enough, the salad wilts. Because those are the CATERING challenges, and catering is just fucking hard.
    Dinner parties are just small self-catered affairs. Some people, whether chefs or just passionate home cooks, make dinner parties to show off their prowess, trying to turn their homes into restaurants with fancy plating and things assembled in ring molds, trying to replicate something they ate at some fabulous new hot spot.
    Not me. Sure, I adore the edamame dumplings at Buddakan in New York. But I don’t try to make them, because stuffing and steaming dumplings while trying to keep glasses full and dinner on schedule would make me insane. So I figured out the filling and turned it into a dip for crudités that I can put out and be done with it.
    When I have a dinner party, I want to sit with my guests and not worry about whether the caramel spirals for the dessert garnish are sagging in the kitchen humidity. I want every dinner party to feel like Thanksgiving. I want a ton of delicious food, something for everyone, with one comforting thing and one surprising thing. And this means knowing my audience.
    You’re diabetic? I’m making low-carb for everyone.
    Vegetarian? The whole party will be meat free.
    Eating Paleo these days? We’re having a caveman party with plenty of steak and veg and no dairy or legumes for anyone.
    Gluten-intolerant vegan?
    I’m making