Many weeks prior we had traveled by car, traghetto, the Italian water ferries, and on foot to reach the palazzo where the party we would cater was to take place. In was on the Grand Canal and was handed down to the present owner by generations of what we would call in Seattle, Venice Old Money. It was a palace in every sense of the word, magnificent, charming and oozing history and culture like the smoke that curled from one of the seven fireplaces.
After Marco and the Matron agreed to the six courses, amounts, wine and prosecco, the main chore would be in logistics. How would we prep all that in the kitchens of Ill Tinello, some twenty challenging clicks away and have it arrive in ways both thermal and ascetic?
We managed to pull it off, the holiday party, one of many I would later find out that would be hosted by this well-to-do Italian family. It was a huge hit and fun for everyone including those of us on the labor side. I remain to this day exceedingly proud to have had this royal opportunity.
A couple of weeks later it was announced that the Duchess was going to host another gala at our place. Logistics again, now we needed valets, an army of additional staff, seasoned firewood, new glassware and enough wine to fill the Adriatic.
My assignment that week was in grounds prep. We literally had to create a new parking lot for 100 vehicles (none of them Fiats) with all landscaping trimmed and every building pressure washed and in some cases re-painted and repaired. Then, on the night of the main event, I would report to the head chef for kitchen duty.
And that is how I ended up as lead risotto supervisor. The specialty of the house is seafood so our second course risotto was saffron and clams. Let me stop right here and ask for a show of hands from those of you that have made risotto at home? Cool, now multiply that by 100.
We are slaving away stirring the arborio in giant copper pots as the waiters rush in, fill serving trays, and rush out again. This culinary procession lasts about an hour as the benefactors dine with the local red wine and to the accompaniment of a traditional Venetian string quartet. There are four fires burning on each side of the stone walls, replete with silk tapestries and twenty-foot gold torches. In between stirring stints with the giant spoon, more a shovel, I would peek out of the kitchen at the dining hall and mutter some superlative in appreciation of the spectacle.
Once the risotto course was completed, as the fish and asparagus was being served, I was ordered upstairs to help with the desert, another house specialty handed down from the generation of Vivaldi, Casanova and Alighieri.
Suddenly a call came out for everyone to gather in the main kitchen area. As is custom, the Matron had finished her meal and was coming into the kitchen to personally compliment the staff, from owners to dish washers, for a fine dining experience and overall performance. The restaurant, also being a renown teaching facility, had a multi-cultural staff. The Duchess has asked the bi-lingual owner and my benefactor, Marco to make the brief introductions to her.
And it began. As Marco, with great pomp and ceremony introduces the Sicilian head chef, the Spanish fish cooks, the Japanese prep cooks and the French curator of pastries, all taking bows as they are called out, it is finally my turn and I am introduced as the American director of culinary logistics.
A round of applause from my 'in the know' buddies and a warm smile of acknowledgement from the Duchess ended a very long day.
One I will cherish forever as the day I took a bow for America.
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