Not to whinge, but may I? I've just come down with a cold, it's chilly and rainy outside and the pup and I were locked out for 45 minutes after our afternoon walk. Where were the 3 neighbors who all have a key to our house? Not home, I'll tell you that. Finally I moved a row of cacti from the windowsill, took out a screen and climbed in the bedroom window, muddy wellies and all.
I took a hot bath full of bubbles and self pity, now I'm drinking tea and waiting for Thai food to be delivered.
May I amuse myself while waiting and tell another story?
How did I become a chef? I didn't intend to. It was a beautiful September evening in Nantucket and I was having a dinner party. Unbeknownst to me a local restaurant The Boarding House had just lost it's 2 Italian cooks to immigration. Also unbeknowst to me, one of our dinner guests took a plateful of our dinner to the owner of the restaurant. And before I could serve dessert, I had an appointment the following day to interview for a cooking position.
I was hired to do the vegetables. The restaurant had 2 seatings a night. You paid your money, you ate our dinner. Every day I wandered downtown to the farmers market and selected the freshest most appealing vegetables and wandered back. I would sit outside under a trees and peel and chop and read cookbooks. Come 7:00pm we were all in our finest assortment of vintage finery and we served the meal we had cooked. Then we served again at 9:00.
This went on for several months until the restaurant closed for the season. I lingered longer on the island until the snows came and some days the ferries didn't run. Then my friend Peaches and I flew away to California. To be continued.....
* photo courtesy of wikimedia
*Boarding House link show the restaurant today, clearly when I worked there things were a wee bit more lax or do I mean relaxed?
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