Chapter 20 Charred chicken
Leah and Gabe visited several other venues over the next couple of weeks. All of the venues had plumbing installed within the last hundred years, and several were available over various weekends throughout the fall. Book soon, they were warned at every venue, the weekends fill up fast!
They were deciding between a loft in FiDi or an outdoor wedding in the park, where plumbing wouldn’t be an issue at all. Both venues required them to bring their own food and so, before they made their final decision on the venue, they were going to meet with a potential caterer.
The caterer was recommended by one of the venues and had thousands of five-star reviews online. Before calling them, Leah and Gabe sat on their couch and scrolled through the reviews that called the food “heavenly!” “memorable,” and “surprisingly delicious for feeding 100 people.”
The catering company invited them to come for a small tasting at their kitchen in Hell’s Kitchen and so that Saturday morning Leah and Gabe headed west to Ninth Avenue to taste the heavenly, memorable, and surprisingly delicious food.
“I think my bachelor party is going to be in Vegas,” Gabe told her on the way. His college roommate Kyle, whom Leah had met several times throughout their relationship, was Gabe’s best man and the planner of the bachelor party. Leah knew Kyle was single and liked to party. She also knew he was a high-paid consultant who traveled around the world to advise companies on whatever it was that consultants could consult on. “Is that OK with you?”
Leah nodded. Of course, it was OK with her. She trusted Gabe and didn’t need to tell him what he could and could not do.
“What about your bachelorette party?” Gabe asked her. “Any thoughts?”
Leah shook her head. She hadn’t talked to her sister much since their brunch after she had tried on dresses. She wasn’t sure if her sister had made any plans for her bachelorette or her bridal shower and she wasn’t sure how to ask without addressing the rift that she felt coming between them.
The short subway ride across town spit them out a few blocks south of the caterer’s kitchen and so they walked uptown until they found the small storefront nudged in between a Thai restaurant and a BBQ quick service place. The storefront led them through a building to a door with the caterer’s logo on it. Gabe knocked and a few moments later a man in a white chef coat and a large bun on the top of his head opened the door.
“Gabe and Leah, right?” he said. A harmony of smells wafted through the doorway. Some were sweet, others spicy and they all melded together in a delicious symphony. “Awesome, come on in. I’m Gary, the head chef here. You two are getting married? Congrats!” He led them into a room that had large ovens and stoves all around. Several chefs in white coats were positioned at various stations stirring, chopping, and plating. They walked past a walk-in refrigerator and ended up at a steel table where he invited them to sit down.
“So I’ll start by telling you guys our food philosophy,” Gary said. “We believe in fresh food that honors the ingredients. We don’t use recipes and so our dishes sometimes come out a little differently based on the chef’s—my—whims or mood and based on what is in season and what I can get locally. Now it’s springtime, so we’re using a lot of greens and also fruits. When are you getting married?”
“Fall,” Leah said.
“Do you have a date?”
Leah shook her head.
“OK, that’s fine,” Gary said. “But just know that what you taste today will be nothing like what we can serve in the fall. I usually ask people to come for a tasting a year in advance so they can really taste the food of the season. But that’s fine, awesome. You’ll still get an idea of our cooking. How many people are you expecting at the wedding?”
Leah and Gabe looked at each other. Leah didn’t know how many people she’d be inviting from her side. She also wasn’t sure if some of the people invited wouldn’t come because of Gabe’s non-Jewish-ness. And from Gabe’s side? She had no clue.
“Probably around 100?” Gabe answered as though it was a question.
“100 is awesome,” Gary said. “It’s small enough that we can make really special dishes for everyone, but not too small. Any dietary restrictions?”
“No shellfish or pork,” Leah responded quickly.
“What about butter? Cheese?” Gary asked. “Are we talking kosher-style or you just don’t like shellfish or pork?”
“Kosher-style,” Leah responded.
“Ah, Mazel tov,” Gary said. “I love Jewish weddings. Of all the weddings I’ve done, the Jewish ones are always the biggest celebrations. Your people are so happy when a couple gets married!”
Leah looked at Gabe who let out a sigh. “It’s not a Jewish wedding,” she corrected.
“Oh, my bad, awesome,” Gary said. “Well, let’s get started then. I want you to try a few things and then we can talk about the catering package that might be good for you. Like I said, anything you taste today is not going to be available in the fall for your wedding, but you’ll understand our palate better. Everything you’re tasting today is for a wedding we are doing later this afternoon.”
Gary then got up and went to the kitchen. He spoke to his chefs and came back with a tray covered in small plates.
“So these are the appetizers we are serving today. This is asparagus wrapped in prosciutto, I know it’s not relevant for you, but I thought you’d like to see it, it’s a favorite of mine, but I’ll take it back to the kitchen—”
“I’ll taste it,” Gabe responded. “Look’s delicious.” He looked at Leah and she wanted to give him an approving smile, but she did feel slightly offended that he would eat that in front of her.
“Awesome, OK, we also have an endive and goat cheese bite, which also won’t work for kosher-style since I am assuming you’ll want meat at the wedding, but you can taste it if you want,” Gary looked at Gabe. “We also have Dijon meat-stuffed artichokes, satay chicken, strawberry and radish skewers, and a pea gazpacho that is served with a sesame seed cracker. Bon Appetit.”
Leah eyed the appetizers set in front of them. There were two of each and she went for the Dijon meat-stuffed artichoke to start. Gabe grabbed the asparagus. Leah popped the entire thing in her mouth. It burst with the tangy flavor of the Dijon. It was soft but also textured from the meat and artichoke that melded together in her mouth.
“Delicious,” she said with her hand over her mouth.
“This too,” Gabe said as he grabbed the second asparagus. “You sure you don’t want to try it? It’s heavenly.”
Leah shook her head. How could he even ask her that? He knew she wouldn’t eat prosciutto. She had never once eaten it in their entire relationship! Her entire life! His question offended her and she watched as he stuffed it in his mouth and then grabbed the goat cheese and endive bite. That one she would taste, but she knew they couldn’t serve cheese and meat at their wedding.
“Cheers,” Gabe held out his endive to her when she grabbed the second one. They lightly tapped their endives together and then ate them. This too was delicious. The bitter endive bit through the strong creaminess of the cheese for a powerful explosion of flavor in her mouth. It was a perfect appetizer, but not servable at their wedding. “Wow, that is good,” Gabe said and Leah nodded in agreement.
They tasted the rest of the appetizers, which were all scrumptious, however, Leah had a bad taste in her mouth from the one she hadn’t even tried. She couldn’t shake feeling a little—or a lot—ticked off by Gabe’s suggestion that she try the prosciutto. It did not go along with their new year’s resolution of being respectful.
“I’m glad you liked those,” Gary said. “Now, I’ll bring you the main courses of the day so you can see those. We have a surf n’ turf, a fire-charred chicken breast, and ravioli for the vegetarians.”
“Fire-charred chicken?” Leah asked in disbelief.
Gary nodded. “You’ll love it! We char it right before the guests eat it. It gives it a crust on the outside that is just to die for. It’s awesome, you’ll see.” Gary went back to the kitchen and collected plates on a tray. A few moments later he was walking back at their table, carrying the heavy tray over one shoulder. He gently placed the tray down in front of them with the entrees, including the fire-charred chicken, which actually looked like an undercooked chicken.
“Now watch,” Gary said. He grabbed the plate with the raw chicken on it and held it up in front of his face. With his other hand, he grabbed a torch that was also on the tray and lit it so a blue flame shot out of the end. He smiled at them before he brought the flame to the chicken and lit it on fire. The blue flames engulfed the plate and grew higher than Gary’s man bun. Leah watched in awe as the flames and Gary both cackled until there was a sudden snap and a crash and the fire-charred chicken was on the floor while the flames stayed in their place above Gary’s head, now consuming his bun. Gary screamed and then Leah screamed just as the fire alarm yelped and echoed through the steel kitchen.
Gary smacked his bun on his head while Gabe grabbed Leah’s hand and pulled her away from the table toward the door as the sprinklers on the ceiling started. Leah felt déjà vu, like this had all happened before, Gabe pulling her while they were drenched with water.
Gabe pulled her until they, Gary, and the cooks in the kitchen were standing out on the street. Other people were already standing on the street, seemingly having evacuated the other floors or storefronts around the kitchen. Gary’s bun was no longer on fire, rather it was charred like the chicken should have been.
“Well, that’s not what’s supposed to happen,” Gary said with a nervous chuckle as he felt around his hair and wiped drops of water off his forehead. “We’ve done that hundreds of times, I don’t know what happened. Awesome, OK, well, damn, the catering for the event today is ruined. We have got to figure something out for the client. Anyone have ideas?” He asked his chefs who all huddled together, forgetting that this all happened while Gary was trying to impress Leah and Gabe with his charred chicken.
Leah shivered, wondering how it was possible that she was standing out in the New York City winter soaked for the second time that year. Gabe put his arm around her. This time there were no plush towels offered or even cab fare. Gary and his sous chefs were too busy figuring out what to do about their ruined catering.
The siren of a firetruck approached and soon the truck pulled up in front of them and six firemen in full suits and helmets jumped out. Five ran into the building while the other asked what happened.
“Charred chicken gone wrong,” Gary said. He started explaining while Gabe hailed a cab. Just as they were about to get in, the fireman turned to them.
“Are you all right? Did you breathe in smoke? Did you get burned?”
Leah and Gabe both shook their heads and got in the cab, leaving Gary and his charred bun behind. Leah leaned into Gabe in the back of the cab as one thought wouldn’t leave her alone. Was this a bad omen? Was her sister right? Should she listen before another sign showed up?