SC - feast disasters and recovery

[Sue Clemenger]

While I'd call myself a competent, but not a great cook, my "disaster" included
feeding 200 people when I'd planned on no more than 100.  The feast kitchen,
including stove and fridge space, couldn't have been much bigger than 12x15.  The
event autocrat was somewhat unavailable, since he was becoming Baron that day.
The outgoing Baroness said that since the cut-off number had escaped being put
into the writeup, we had to feed all comers.
I had food for about 150 (those who'd made reservations), but had another  50 or
so pleading at the troll gate.  Hmm, what to do.  Fob it off on the autocrat, who
asked the queen, who said feed them.  So we did.  Sent someone back into town to
pick up more bread, a significant number of precooked rotisserie chickens, more
cheeses, and some fruit.  It all worked out....Although the outgoing baroness
complimented me on her favorite dish, which turned out to be the last-minute
chicken, together with an orange sauce we'd whipped up from the little packets we
found inside the ducks we served during a different course.  Just goes to show,
ya never know....
Maire

Aldyth at aol.com wrote:

> I think that the most interesting disaster waiting to happen was last year
> when I was asked to help with a neighboring groups's Midwinter feast.  The
> fella doing the autocrating was doing it because he had mouthed off once too
> often about how the event was run, and none of the cooks would touch him with
> a ten foot pole.  He inlisted the help of his housemates, two moderately
> nubile ladies, one almost divorced and one single.  The tale starts when the
> single one decides to date the soon to be ex husband of the other roommate.
> Whallaa, no cooks.  The autocrat was scrambling for someone to do the feast,
> and asked me.  Well, I just couldn't say no.  There was to be no cooking on
> site, but we could warm up.
>
> After a week, we arrived at a menu (not particularly period, but peri oid).
> His one request was that he get to do his favorite soup, Carrot Ginger.
>
> The day of the feast, I arrived to an interesting set up in the kitchen, got
> it straightened out, and assessed the damage.  The autocrat pointed out that
> the soup he made was in a plastic container in the fridge, duct taped shut,
> and had  been in cold storage since he finished making it about 24 hours
> before.
>
> The time arrived to heat up the soup.  I untaped the green tucker tote, and
> took off the lid.  The soup had "separated", and there was a slight pooch in
> the middle, with what initially appeared to be frost flowers on the top.  The
> smell was less than appetizing.  The husband of my student was in the kitchen
> at the time, and remarked that number one, if I served it people would think
> I made it, and number two, shouldn't I taste it.  I tasted it.  It took a
> long time to scrape that stuff off my tongue.  When I dabbed the tip of the
> spoon in the soup, the center erupted into the most interesting display of
> green moldspore I had wittnessed.  Upon closer inspection, the black spices
> were discovered to be black animal hair.
>
> Moral of the story.  Never allow someone who has never seen the inside of a
> kitchen before to cook.
>
> He used an old plastic tote he found in his spare room, where the dogs and
> cats slept.  Did not wash them out, and then stored the soup in his garage
> for a day (or so).  Gee, it was cooler there.....
>
> Aldyth
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