Too Much Fun For a Tuesday

We had way too much fun for a Tuesday night.

A couple of weeks ago Laura and Billy went to the Pines Manor to look into booking their reception hall.  Laura came home with an impressive menu and the date for a food tasting.  I wasn't sure what a food tasting was.  I didn't think I was going to be able to go anyway because I had bell choir practice.  The practice, however, was canceled, and I was back in the game plan.  At 5:30, Laura, BP, and I swung by Crossroads to kidnap Tara after her voice lesson.  I say kidnap because Tara is more of a chicken nugget and fry person, and not so much a critic of fine food.  She had been planning on staying home with a big bowl of macaroni and cheese. Kraft, of course.  So off we went to meet Billy and his mom, Alice, at the Pines Manor, without much of an idea what to expect.

We walked into a banquet room to be greeted by two white-gloved waiters, one bear glasses of champagne, the other with fried shrimp.  We noted a central buffet table, three waitered stations in the corner, and an open bar - complimentary.  The six of us found a table right in front of the DJ, staked our claim with our pocketbooks, and headed to the central buffet.  It would be fair to say that it was a nice spread.  I started with a little calimari, a piece of sushi, bruschetta, salami with cream cheese, a deviled egg, and a nice piece of eggplant rolatini.  My second round included shrimp, apricot chicken, an amazing Asian beef, some sort of pate, and a little bit of salmon with dill sauce. 

Everyone availed themselves of the bartender's service.  Laura was eating something with sausage when she frantically gestured for my soda.  Alice and BP established that the operative word was "hot".  I then went to the carving station.  I took a bit of red snapper and a slice of roast beef.  I got some of the penne everyone had been raving about.  Then I went for a scoop of rigatoni with something green, broccoli rabe, I think.  The waiter told me to take some more because I didn't get any sausage.  So that's what Laura was eating.  I declined the sausage and returned to the table.  Let me just say that the spice may have orginated on the sausage, but it permeated the broccoli rabe and the rigatoni itself.  Alice was kind enough to get me another Coke. 

As I'd been sitting there, I noticed that people were coming and going to what might have been an ice cream bar.  They were walking away with something white in a little goblet with stuff on top.  I suspected vanilla ice cream, but it looked like shredded cheese on top.  At some point Laura and Alice had their own little goblets.  Mashtinis.  The white stuff was mashed pototo.  The toppings were gravy, shredded cheese, crumbled bacon, and chives.

Then for dessert there was marble wedding cake, German chocolate cake, a fruit torte, a variety of pastries, and several kinds of candy, and a chocolate fountain with pound cake, strawberries, and marshmallows.  The most interesting of these options was the chocolate.  One, highly suspect from the beginning, was a truffle with olive oil and sea salt.  We all came to the same conclusion - yuck.  The milk chocolate was good.  Then there was a chocolate ganache with some sort of liqueur.  I didn't try it and no one remarked on it. 

There was also a dark chocolate plum soaked in absinthe.  Tara wanted to try one.  But first she requested a glass of water and a few napkins for just in case she didn't like it.  She stuffed it into her mouth.  She started fanning herself.  She puckered up her whole face and tried nobly not to drool as her mouth burned.  We were all laughing at her.  It was at this moment that a photographer sat down at the table to hawk his services.  He sat next to Tara and was not looking directly at her.  We, on the other hand, couldn't take our eyes off her outrageously funny predicament.  The photographer started talking and we just sat there laughing hysterically and basically ignored the poor man.  We finally explained what was going on.  He promised to return later (after we were done rolling on the floor). 

Also of note was the music.  Early in the evening the DJ noticed Tara singing every song and came over to drop off his business card and note Tara's "diva quality".  When the florist came to deliver his sales pitch, he was side tracked by Tara's singing performance.  As he went on, we were all slightly more focused on the song Margueritaville than on centerpieces.  We tried to maintain a polite if not concentrated attention to the man, but when "Sweet Caroline" came on, that was the end.  The florist decided to join us since he couldn't beat us.  On queue, we all - me, BP, Tara, Alice, and the florist, raised our arms and punched out "so good, so good, so good!"  The people at the table next to us jumped.  Everyone in the room turned.  The DJ laughed.  And Laura, who was across the room with Billy examining photo albums, didn't bother to look up.  She knew the commotion was just us.  This is why Laura isn't overly concerned about her choice of deejay.  She needs someone who will stick to her playlist.  We don't need someone who will motivate the guests to get up and dance.  We need someone who will bring multiple microphones for us because we are our own entertainment.  Nobody else in the place was dancing in the seats during a food tasting.

Boy did we have fun!