Part 9 of a 9-part series
One of the very best things the
private chef job for the Quires was the over-all freedom to prepare just about
anything I wanted to for them. Money,
truly was no object and they never once said, “Hey you’re sure spending an
awful lot of money for food”. After so
many years in the food service industry, an industry often with single-digit
profit percentages I can’t describe how luxurious it was not to have a budget
to follow.
If I wanted to buy a couple of pints
of fresh raspberries in the middle of January at $8 a pop? No problem!
Fresh morel mushrooms at $40 a pound?
Sure, why not! Saffron? Use it like salt if you want to!
The other nice thing was that The
Quires, by and large, had pretty sophisticated palates. They truly appreciated good food when it came
their way. While one cannot always say
that with money comes good taste, it certainly was the case with them. While there were some exceptions to the rule
(I found a stack of full Velveeta “cheese” boxes in the storeroom and while I
never saw anyone actually eat it, it must have been there for a reason right?)
I found that they were receptive to fine new things and mostly liked them.
So between The Quires interest in
good food and their apathy toward setting a food budget I should have been in
heaven right? Unfortunately there were
so many other things going on in and around that house that I ended getting
caught up in all kind of little Family soap operas. The Quires were also masters of playing
head-games, something I had no experience with or tolerance for, and so I found
myself often distracted from the job at hand.
It was almost a “golden handcuff” situation, where despite some of the
unpleasantries of the job, I felt I wanted to stay for the benefits and
frequent perks.
Then there came a time when golden
handcuffs had really begun to chafe. It
had been a series of really tough days, with more side games and interpersonal
conflicts than I could take. Damit, I
was there to cook, not be the football or the referee, or a player at some
contest. I had lost my interest in the
job and suddenly its benefits didn’t come close to balancing its
draw-backs. I had even discussed, with
my wife, giving them notice to quit but in the bright light of the following
day I decided that maybe it wasn’t all that bad and I would go back with a
fresh attitude and give it my best shot.
So off I went, fresh as a daisy, ready to take on the day with a smile.
My normal work routine saw me
stopping at one or more grocery stores on my way to the estate and that day was
no different. I went a bit out of my way
to go to a ritzy (read as pricey!) little independent supermarket which catered
to the many wealthy folks in the tri-state region. Tucked away near the Salisbury CT town hall
it stocked the very best variety of exotic foods anywhere around. It was one of Mrs. Quire’s favorite places
and she kept an open account there for me to charge on. Their produce department was also something
special. They always had plenty of
produce men working so that you didn’t actually get to bag or weigh your own
produce, they would jump in and do it for you.
Personally I found this rather annoying.
I wanted to be able to check out each piece of fruit or vegetable I
bought, but I guess they thought they were offering a service. Truth be told, I never got so much as a
slightly old mushroom from them so I guess they did earn my trust in the end.
Anyway, I went about my business
there with the intent of 1) building the finest dinner I’d ever cooked for them
as a fresh-start gesture (even if they didn’t know how upset I’d been), and 2)
making it the most expensive meal I could put together for them (this was to
make me feel better. I love working with
the best ingredients!). A quick tour of
the store to see what specialties they had in, and I had myself a great menu to
prepare. I don’t remember the whole
thing, but there was an appetizer of
Fresh Morels in a Cognac Cream Sauce, followed by a Tomato, Belgian Endive, Basil
and Roquefort Salad. The entrée was to
be Medallions of Lobster Tails with Saffron, Leeks and Pernod over Fresh
Sun-Dried Tomato Linguini with a side of Cilantro-Lime Grilled Baby
Vegetables. For dessert I was going to
make my renowned White Chocolate Mousse Torte, served with a warm
Frangelico–Bitter Chocolate Sauce. I
was really jazzed and hurried to work.
When I first took the job with them,
one of my immediate concerns was to discern if there were any food allergies in
The Family which I needed to be careful of (there were none). I also asked about food preferences at that
time and found that, aside from mackerel, refried beans and capers, there
weren’t any foods that I needed to steer clear of. That made my job a lot easier than it could
have been. Anyway, upon arriving at the
house, I put all of the ingredients in the fridge. The two large live lobsters I’d gotten for
the entrée were feisty and fresh but they fit fine. When I saw Karen (the house staff manager) I
told her that I was planning a special meal for that night, and told her some
of the menu including having the lobster for the entrée. She thought it sounded great, saying that
they both loved lobster then went off, I guess, off to tell Mrs. Quire all
about it.
Soon Mrs. Quire arrived in the
kitchen and began asking lots of questions about the meal. I happily told her everything but I was glad
when she left because I had a lot of work to get done. As I was heading down to the basement for
some things from the dry storage room I over heard her on the phone, apparently
to her husband who was probably down at the office annex. “…a real fancy meal with lobster, your
favorite.”…”I think so”…”Yes, I could tell him that we need to eat early
tonight then”…”OK I’ll do that…”
I wasn’t sure about what she was up
to, but it sounded to me like they were plotting to submarine the dinner. Why would they want to do that? It didn’t make any sense at all. If they suddenly disliked me so much why not
just fire me? I must have been wrong
about the conversation. I finished
getting the stores I needed and went back to the kitchen and continues work on
the meal. In an hour or so Mrs. Quire
returned to the kitchen.
“David, I just found out that my
daughters are going to be here this afternoon.
They might stay for dinner OK?”
Oh boy, I hadn’t planned on doing
this dinner for four people but I could
probably stretch out everything enough for two more people. It just wouldn’t be quite as nice.
“”That’s fine with me. Anything else?” I was wondering about the phone conversation.
“No.
That’s all”. But as she walked
away she turned back “Jenny [one of the daughters] won’t eat mushrooms you
know”
Well that was odd. The last time Jenny had visited a month or so
ago, she had eaten mushroom and cheese omelets at every lunch meal for 4 days
straight. What was this woman up
to? I tried to shake off that sinking
feeling I was getting, reminding myself of my “new attitude”. I told her I would find something else nice
for her for that course, then went back to work.
Maybe 45 minutes elapsed and she was
back again in the kitchen. What now? I
wondered to myself.
“I phoned my daughters about the
menu for tonight and they are very excited”
I sensed a “but..” coming soon.
She looked around the kitchen airily, “Are you sure that you can have
all this ready by 6PM”?
6 PM!! Dinner had always, always, always been at 8
PM. It was one of the few things that
hadn’t changed even once the whole time I’d been there. I guess she saw the look on my face.
“Oh dear, I guess you forgot that
when Jenny and her sister are here we eat earlier!”
Now that just wasn’t true! My old attitude was coming back with a
vengeance but what could I do? I thought
I could possibly make the earlier time but some of the fancies and special
garnishes I had planned would not be happening.
I told her I would be ready and again jumped into the preparations.
A short while later Karen wandered
in to get a beverage.
“Wow, you’re really flying around in
here today! Is everything going
OK?” She seemed honestly concerned.
“Well my special little intimate
dinner for two has turned into a Family reunion for four, and bumped up two
hours, but I’m doing OK.”
“What do you mean Family reunion?” So I told her about Jenny and her sister
coming for dinner tonight. “Are you sure
that’s what Mrs. Quire said?”
“She was pretty clear. I don’t see how I could be mistaken. Why?”
“Well, uhhh, umm” She tried starting again, “She, ahhh. You see, Jenny is in Europe now and for
another week. I don’t see how she could
be here for dinner tonight.”
I was dumbfounded. Mrs. Quire had flat-out lied to me and I just
couldn’t figure out why. My old attitude
was now in complete control and it was not a happy camper at all. I said something lame to Karen about there
being some kind of mix-up, and not to worry about it. I didn’t really know what to do next so I
headed back down to the basement for another trip to the storeroom as I was now
cooking for four (or was I?). As I was
coming up the stairs I heard a crash coming from the kitchen area. Good grief, now what?
As I entered the room, Mrs. Quire
was standing at the refrigerator door with her back to me, looking at the
floor. Around the corner of the cabinets
I saw a thick white mass spreading its way across the floor, impeded
occasionally by various sized chunks of glass.
I immediately recognized it as having been the bowl of white chocolate
I’d melted with the heavy cream. It had
been cooling in the back of the refrigerator in preparation for making the
mousse for tonight’s torte. I was so
close to losing it that I just stood there for a moment pressing my lips
together so I couldn’t say anything.
Time seemed to stand still for a just moment, before all hell broke.
Karen rocketed into the room through
another door, saw me standing like a statue.
She dismissed me with a glance and hurried over to Mrs. Quire to see if
she was injured. As she reached her, the
three rat-dogs came scrabbling across the polished cherry wood floor, lost
their collective footing and, in unison, careened off a cupboard door before
scurrying on toward their mistress.
Mistress turned in my direction as the canine commotion approached her. Never catching my eye, or perhaps never noticing
me, she bent and tried to shoo them away from the mess on the floor even as
they made contact with the leading edge of the molten confection.
The dogs quickly realized that they
were standing in some pretty yummy stuff and any pea-sized thoughts of rushing
to their mistress’ rescue was forgotten in a short-lived feeding frenzy. Mistress quickly scooped up one of the beasts
as it was about to snag a tasty piece of glass and handed it back to Karen who
accepted it, but at arms length, trying to avoid its dripping feet. Mistress then deftly grabbed the other two
and oblivious of their goop-covered faces and paws, tucked them one under each
arm. All of this action was happening in
front of the forgotten and still open door to the fridge. As Mrs. Quire and Karen began moving off with
their burdens I saw another motion, this time inside the refrigerator.
The two lobsters had managed to get
out of their bag and had chosen this diversion as a cue to make their great
escape. As I was noticing the jail break
on the top shelf one of the gardeners entered the kitchen. He had apparently heard the commotion from
outside and had come to help. Mrs. Quire
held out the two dogs she was carrying for him to take, which he did and
left. Karen was still trying to step
carefully over-around-through the white ganache puddle, holding the dog out in
front like it might pee on her. It was
then, for the first time, I think that Mistress noticed me. I can’t even imagine what expression must
have been on my face but when she saw it, it made her get immediately
defensive.
“I just opened door to get
drink. It fell on me! I could have been killed!” I shook my head in disbelief. I knew full well where that bowl had
been. It was way behind the box of
mushrooms (which I now saw was sitting on the counter beside the fridge). What in the devil had she been up to? Taste testing, snitching, or something more
nefarious?
“Really”, she continued, “it was
right…” and she turned back towards the refrigerator, her finger pointing, getting
ready to show me from where my bowl of nascent mousse had attacked her. My eyes followed the path of the finger and
now saw that the lobsters again were on the move. No one else had seen them as they approached
the shelf edge. Then, just as The Mistresses, and Karen (still with the dog),
and my eyes locked onto the fridge the lobsters made a jump for it. It was not a pretty sight. No style or grace involved, just gravity.
Hitting the floor just a few inches
from ground-zero for the mousse they flopped and flailed, trying to right
themselves, getting covered in the now-congealing white chocolate mass. The sight was more than Karen could take I
guess. She hurled the dog in the general
direction of the door while trying to make traction in that direction
herself. I finally made out the noise
coming from her as “Ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod…”
Mrs. Quire hadn’t moved. Her finger still pointed in the air, but her
wide eyes were riveted to the wiggling crustaceans on the floor.
“What are those?” I assumed she must have been speaking to me
as I was the only one left in the room.
“Lobsters. Your dinner actually.” If I can salvage anything from all this mess,
I said to myself.
“They’re moving. They’re alive! We can’t eat those!”
I tried to assure her that I was
planning on cooking them first and that’s when she really lost it.
“No, no, no, no! No killing in this house! I won’t eat!
Take them away NOW! I never eat
ever, ever. No live food comes
here.” She scurried out of the kitchen,
leaving a trail of thick milky footprints in her wake out towards the dining
room. Well, so much for my special
dinner. Staring at the mess on the floor
I actually laughed. The two lobsters
stared up with their eye stalks, looking amazingly like a picture I’d once seen
in a Garde Manger book of a lobster Choid-froid buffet presentation. It took me about an hour to clean the place
to a relatively decent level. I decided
that I couldn’t ask for a better sign to tell me to move on and find another
job so I wrote a nice note telling Karen where to send my last pay check and I
left.
On my way out to my car I saw Mrs.
Quire and several gardeners working on cleaning off the dogs. They didn’t see me leave.
What happened to the lobsters? Darned if I know. I rinsed them off and put them back in the
bag in the fridge. If my observations
about the Family’s refrigerator habits are accurate, they’re probably still
there today.
