Have Fish, Will Travel

We wanted the restaurant where we had our first official date to cater. They make wonderful Italian food in a nice, intimate setting. Upon contact, they were interested in establishing a catering side to their business. So we had a meeting.

We had our full entourage in tow (all first-generation blood relatives and Danza, who is an artificial blood relative). First we met the restaurant manager, a nice lady. Whether this was the adopted Italian way of life or not, she seemed to be in no hurry to confirm or get estimates on anything.

“Do you have an estimate on the price per person for a standard meal?” we asked.

“Well, I can try and figure that out for you,” she replied.

“Would it be like the menu price?” we asked.

“I can’t say,” she countered.

“We have some particular dishes we would like to have.”

“Okay, let’s bring in the chef for this,” she declared.

“Great. This should get us some answers.”

Chef entered stage left. He had the uniform. Introductions were made. He was new to the restaurant, within a week or two, from somewhere out east. His accent was a touch Jersey, with a hint of rural France, perhaps. It was the accent you practice in the shower as a suave Euro-seducer of American women. (In my case, it’s more like the voice I use to pretend the cat is a French art critic.) He spoke of some fanciful events he had catered before the move to Bloomington. I love Bloomington, but for chefs, I’m not sure if it is really a promotion, after any place that hosts such fanciful events.

“We love some of the dishes here. Are they suitable for mass production?” we asked.

“You must get a food that travels well.” (Italics are used to emphasize his accent of unknown origin.)

“We were thinking about the Penne alla Vodka.” (We did not actually say this with an accent, but because it’s a specific menu item, I thought it needed to be distinguished.)

“Cod travels well.” (The accent has returned.)

Cod, a well-traveling fish and great fried with chips, was not on the menu. Did I choose this opportunity to state that I like ice cream? No, I felt that was a bit irrelevant. (These are my thoughts, which can take on a number of accents.)

“What else travels well?” we asked, seeking a second choice.

“Like I said, cod…and bread.”

It was like we were having the reception on week five of Columbus’s transatlantic journey, where fish, jerky, rock salt, and water were the only options. We were trying to translate our wishes from English to English and still not getting through. They didn’t have any equipment designated for catering, and the chef didn’t “know his staff yet,” so he couldn’t commit to anything. Apparently, they could prepare cod but couldn’t prepare for meetings.
- Drew Lloyd
From "Will You?" to "I Do.": A Groom's Tale of Survival