My cell jangled and woke me at 6:15 am. It was Maggy with a question about our catering order for this morning. The cafe is making sandwich platters for a group of 55 people who are meeting in Greenfield to discuss the latest in the maple syrup business. We are new to this catering arena, though I spent many years serving drinks as a catering bartender for Nick at the Black Sheep.
It’s one of those slippery slopes though, it sounds really good until you’re up to your eyeballs in turkey sandwiches and trying to figure out how much roast beef you’ll need. The lucre appears good but the costs once again run away quickly, as my sister Jen, a seasoned former caterer would say. This food biz is tantalizing but a fickle mistress, profits elusive, hours long, I’ve discovered.
We have a full house on Mountain Road tonight, friends and relatives coming in from the South and the west, and I tossed and turned the other night, worrying if it would be too crowded. I came to my senses with the light of dawn, figuring that we all know each other well enough so that we don’t need arm’s distance, we can snuggle right up.