THE CHALLENEGE... once upon a time...

I was just 'talking' to my most favourite guy... after Peter...Who is hopelessly hetero... and was a role model for me... gawwd I wanted to be that cool...

Which is neither here nor there. But he was telling me about how Christmas dinner was going to be at his place this year, and so on... and since families grow... ten people, hey. Lots of work.

And I remembered 'MY FIRST BIG DINNER'... uh-huh... out of anger and pure stubbornness.

I sort of got 'into' cooking due to Peter... how better to seduce someone other than inviting him to a really super dinner, right? Tricksey, sneaky, Preciousses... and being stubborn I could carry it to extremes hardly ever seen in the Western World. He got a bad cold but was working? Who was in the street car for a half-hour ride cross town with a boiling hot hearty irish stew or chicken soup, stinking up the car? Yeah, I had it bad... At least I didn't irritate the other passengers as much as I made them envious... and hungry...

Now my old boss... whom I was lucky to have for over twenty five years.... had this blind spot. Americans had no cuisine, they only ate MacDonald's hamburgers, and it was all terrible... And Austrians of that generation really nearly revered food, having gone without during the War and afterward.

The first cookbook that came out after WWII? I cried. I'd heard all the stories. Everything geared to regenerating and putting on weight... 'Take an egg... if you can GET one...' It's a remarkable document. And there were farmers who got really rich, taking valuables in exchange for food. Which caused resentment that lasted a long time.

And I'd say, 'That's not TRUE! My family cooks remarkably well!' And go on and ON about all the wonderful things that were normal in my family, and especially about cool guy's mom, who did catering, Well, the first year, I met the Webers, not knowing they would become like substitute parents for me for many years to come. And I was telling Marion about it, because she loved her some cookbooks. And I said that was oh-ful.

That December we had our normal abnormal Christmas party, and my boss was always 'verklemmt', and it was chicken from the take-put place next door with potato salad, and apple strudel... or something... and it was expensive.

So the following year, Marion and Bill came back. And she presented me with the cookbook to end all cookbooks... Yankee Magazine's New England Favourite Recipes from 1976.. it is so good, it is in virtual tatters today, decades later, through much use and three moves. And American measuring cups and spoons. Since things here are metric.

I was FLOORED that she would remember that, and have a lot to say about her and her husband Bill later this month.. am steeling myself for it.

Well when the Christmas party time rolled around again and my boss was agonising over what to do... I said, 'I would like to PROVE to you that American cuisine is good. And I d cook. It's probably gonna cost one thousand Schillings.' That was a fifth of one month's pay I was getting, so it was bold of me, but not more than she had spent the previous year. She took me up on it. I explained I would be using the New England cookbook for EVERYTHING and prove she was wrong, and it was on.

It would be for SEVENTEEN people, our staff and the office. Hhhhiii... talk about biting off a huge chunk and having to chew and chew... and CHEW...

The catch was... I couldn't use the restaurant's facilities, because we were separate businesses, and I wasn't cleared for that.. you have to get a clean bill of health from the dept of health. Did that in Berlin... they check you for contagious diseases, hey... if you are healthy, you can work in the food industry. Regulations, anyone? I don't think they hurt.

So there was only a cubbyhole of a room where the staff made their lunches. Let's see... there was a double hot plate, a tiny broiler oven.... and that was it. Logistics, logistics....

And I thought, 'oh, just you wait'...

So I got my thousand schillings, and went grocery shopping, following this amazing book.

I began a day ahead... that is when you make soup, and have stuck to my method ever since... because totally fresh soup is a bit bland, it needs to sit. And I baked fresh gingerbread, and stored both in the attic, covered, because it was cold enough there and the mini refrigerator was too small. And it was a fresh tomato cream soup. Everything from scratch, not short-cuts... and was throwing thoughts and thanks over to Connecticut for the measuring stuff and the book.

I had the day of the party off, so was up in the kitchen at six a.m. And charmed the Slovenian cook in the restaurant to lend me a huge pot, some large platters and some cutlery, beíng young and cute. She was the one who was so offended when they introduced daylight savings time, but was a lovely person. We called her Mutti... Mommy.. Jane called her the 'pepper witch' because she really overdid that on her salads, otherwise, she did well.

I promised to bring back everything clean as a whistle, and it was off for a race against time. Yankee pot roast with potatoes and carrots. 30 minutes of prep, and then I recreated the phenomenal salad platters I remembered from my cool guy's mother's feasts. Curried eggs, everything else cut well and pleasing to the eye. And I'd made 4... count'em, FOUR original dressings from scratch the night before, using my double hot plate at home.

If I play, Preciousess... I play to WIN, and it was my first time cooking for more than one person.

The time came, I had really done well... piping hot soup, and the roast beast, (and you try juggling THAT on two hotplates). they went nuts over the salads and the dressings, and I warmed the gingerbread and made fresh whipped cream for it while they were devastating that. They found the gingerbread 'odd'. Not that it wasn't good, but unusual for them. Otherwise, a huge success. I've rarely been good at desserts because basically, I don't like them.

The chambermaids the seamstress and the laundry ladies were kind enough to help me clear away, clean up and return the things I'd borrowed from the resaurant.

And I shyly asked my boss... 'did I prove my point?'

And she said 'Ach!' No, Ach! can be said sort of disparagingly.. It's the tone that makes the music as we say, and that was that sort of 'Ach'. A friend of mine says 'Pfffft!' instead... like brushing off a fly. My boss said, 'Das ist nur eine AUSNAHME!' 'That is just an EXCEPTION!'

On the one hand I laughed, because I won. On the other, it irritated me to death.

You can't change people's preconceived notions just doing it once, it's a fluke for them. When Marion visited the following year, she had a really really good creole cookbook as gift for me. And laughed herself silly over my outrageous plan the year before. 'Don't worry about it, I'm sure it was great.' Well, over the years I impressed her...

And... I got asked for an encore the following year, and did creole lamb, and lots of green stuff to go with it. Screw Christmas and turkeys... how do you get one in a tiny roaster oven anyway... I did that once with a St. Martin's goose and soon had the fire dept in the no-tell ho-tell... which is another story altogether.

I wasn't asked after that, but had gained some begruding respect, which meant much to me. Only they still thought I was an 'exception' to the rule. And saw that I really worked my arse off to do that. They didn't want to put me out any more. I know that one wasn't a flop, because the bookkeeper asked me to cater one of her parties, but I was way too insecure about that.

And I enjoyed it thoroughly, being young, and full of energy. I did. It was fun.

And it taught me a valuable lesson. And made some rules. After that.... dinner parties were for two people---me and Peter---and four others at most. Otherwise, you're the work mule, and the others have the fun.

Cooking well is an act of love too.... and you aren't gonna change anyone's mind about the eating habits of 'murkins if they come over as tourists and stick to MacD's because they are AFRAID to try something new. Times changed... for the worse.

So isn't it ironic... today's meal was 200 grams of ground beef, and a baked potato. It was what my budget allowed, not that I liked it.... hamburger was on sale today.

Economics dictate a lot of things.