Life on the Other Side: Food Faux Pas

Ever have a kitchen disaster? Not like spilling a bag of rice and watching it scatter all over the floor. I mean culinary catastrophes that occur in real time, when company is in the next room — hungry with forks positioned in their hands.

One of my favorites happened years ago, when my boss Joe asked several of us to spend the weekend at his beach house. It was Friday evening and we started with wine — lots of it. We were drinking, talking, laughing and hanging out in the kitchen. Pasta was the entree of the evening and Joe — a proud, virile Italian — wouldn’t let any of us help. He was boiling, chopping, tossing, seasoning and telling jokes — keeping us all entertained. By the time we were ready to dine, it was close to 10 p.m. and we were starving!

We were seated around the old oak dining table when Joe emerged from the kitchen wearing a big smile and carrying a gigantic bowl of pasta. It smelled divine. He dished out the portions and we were ready to dig in. Joe was the first one to taste, and suddenly he exclaimed, “Oh, man, this tastes like s… Don’t anyone eat it.” And before we could respond, he scooped up our plates and threw all the food into the garbage. Gone, just like that. Apparently he had over-peppered the sauce and wasn’t about to let us sample it. Restaurants were closed; we were way too drunk to drive anyway, so we all went to bed — hungry. But a great weekend was had by all.

I heard a story about a hostess who innocently served a roast (the white-meat kind, as it’s euphemistically called here) without realizing one of her guests kept kosher. After receiving kudos and answering the inevitable “What is this delicious meat?” the looks of horror on the faces of the guests more than adequately informed this hostess of her error.

Then there are the awful experiences when we decide, “If nobody sees it happen, it didn’t.” One friend told me about the time her mother invited the new rabbi home for Friday night dinner. Walking into the dining room with the food platter, her mother slipped and the chicken flew to the floor. With not more than a nanosecond to think, she said, “Oops, better get the other chicken that I prepared out here. Good thing I made extra.” But, she hadn’t made extra. She took the chicken back into the kitchen, patted it off and brought it right back out. My friend assures me that it was delicious.

Even a two-day trip to the Negev resulted in a “kitchen” disaster. We drove and drove to our parched and cactus-filled destination. The steaks came out of the car trunks and were still frozen. Not a problem for this group of improvisation-minded Sabras. The hoods of the still-hot cars went up and the meat (in packaging of course) was spread out on the engines.

Sara had the job of making the salad. Out came the cucumbers, tomatoes, onions, parsley, lemons and olive oil, and she started the tedious task of slicing and dicing. It took her 45 minutes and the salad looked spectacular. But the meat wasn’t ready so her husband placed the salad on the hood of one car not functioning as a defroster.

Suddenly a huge gust of wind scooped up her bowl of salad and slammed it down on the ground. Her screams could be heard for miles. Her husband tried to calm her down as he ever so gently scooped up whatever he could salvage that was not touching dirt. Each of us got a tablespoon of salad followed an hour later by the meat that had finally thawed and been cooked. A gastronomic experience not to be forgotten.

The moral? Have fun in your kitchen; enjoy what you’re doing. If you have a screw-up, so what? Ply your guests with good wine (lots of it) and add a good dose of humor and interesting conversation. You’ll be forgiven for any kitchen calamity — because when friends get together to wine and dine, the problems just don’t matter.

Anne Kleinberg, author of Menopause in Manhattan and several cookbooks, left a cushy life in Manhattan to begin a new one in Israel. Now she’s opened a boutique bed and breakfast in her home on the golf course in Caesarea. For details, visit annekleinberg.com and casacaesarea.com.

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