We were two weeks into life in Ibiza and our next task was to host
an Indian dinner for 30 people at Can Cires, the Spanish restaurant that I’d
stumbled across a week ago. Life kind of flows like that here; it’s like a
domino effect, opportunities randomly arise and just snowball off one another.
When the owner V first suggested that we host weekly dinners at their
restaurant, I half thought to myself that it would be one of those great ideas
that was spoken about but never materialised; I mean the doubt was rational, I
enjoyed cooking meals for friends and family but neither I nor R had ever
worked in a professional kitchen let alone catered for 30 people before. I
pictured all the scenarios in which it could go horribly wrong… and then I
pictured tables of people sitting under candlelight, enjoying colourful plates
of curry and coriander with whisps of incense adding to the atmosphere.
‘Wouldn’t it be cool if we managed to pull it off’, I thought to myself. I began
creating the menu in my head and my senses went running wild as I imagined
colourful combinations of amazing flavours that I’d grown up eating variations
of in India and Sri Lanka. I decided on the classics; Saag Aloo: Creamy spinach
curry with potatoes and chickpeas, Aloo Gobi: Dry cauliflower and potato curry
and turmeric dhal. R designed the perfect menu using Photoshop, sweet and simple just
as I’d imagined. The night was called ‘Una Noche en La India’ - A night in India and after the click of a few buttons, it was out there and we were locked in with 5
days to go.
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| C & I, the morning after |
During the weekend before we hosted the dinner my great friend C from high school came to visit. It was her first time here so we chose a night out in one of Ibiza’s super clubs, Amnesia that could hold up to 9000 people. It was truly something to behold as the first rays of sun streamed through the glass ceiling of the main room; the energy peaked at 7am as the last tribal beats boomed through the speakers sending everyone into a morning trance. We arrived back at the villa that morning as the sun was shining off the pool and the rolling hills turning a vivid green in the background; it was all too beautiful to go to sleep! But by the end of the day, my temperature gage began to waver and I could feel my energy reserves depleting. Despite it being 35° outside I lay shivering in bed under a thousand layers of clothes, wishing I’d made the sensible decision to sleep. C flew back to Madrid the next morning after an amazing weekend together and my head hit the pillow. I drifted in and out of feverish sleep over the next 2 days with weird aches and pains moving their way through my body. ‘Please could I be better before our dinner… please’. I wondered how people here could handle 3 or 4 day benders with no sleep?! The thought of it both scared and amazed me at the same time…
1 day to go and it was time for the big food shop with V so I got
out of bed and put on a strong face, resisting the urge to curl up in a ball
and stay under the covers. We drove down to Ibiza town together and walked
through the doors of the huge, industrial whole salers. I looked around,
feeling dazed under the fluorescent lights and freezing cold under the harsh
air conditioning. My phone that contained the list of ingredients ran out of
battery the moment we’d arrived (of course) so I racked my foggy brain to think
of what we needed; if I got it wrong now, we’d be screwed tomorrow. Deep
breath. I walked down the first isle and my eyes landed on rows of tomatoes…
here we go. I looked at the 50 different brands that lay in front of me in a
state of complete indecision... this was going to be a long process. V wheeled
the trolley as I shakily stacked it with supersize cans and boxes of fruit and
veg. She held my arm every now and then with a concerned look on her face and
I’d force a smile to reassure her that I’d be alright by tomorrow. 2 hours
later, €300 down and a car full of food - we
were finally done. V drove me to the pharmacy for a box of paracetemol to bring
down the fever. We unloaded everything at the restaurant and I sat down,
feeling the medicine kicking in as sweat droplets rapidly began forming on my
brow. At last! The heat began draining from my body and I sat in the shade,
drenched in sweat and gulping down my body weight in water. Suddenly, I felt
cool and my mind felt clearer. One more sleep until the big day. Fingers
crossed!
The final alarm rang and I felt a lightening bolt of energy shoot
through my body, I missed that feeling. I hadn’t prepared anything for the day
ahead so I hastily wrote down a last minute method. R and I rushed down to the
restaurant on our moped, stressing out that we were later than arranged. But
there was no need to rush as V sat calmly sipping on a cup of tea when we
arrived and I remembered that we were on Spanish time. F was V’s husband and
the head chef of the restaurant. This was the one day of the week that the
restaurant closed and he was in the kitchen preparing for the following day.
Much to his dismay, V asserted that he would lend a hand when it was needed and
thank god, I don’t think he realised quite how much work he’d have to put in.
As we entered the kitchen, I looked around feeling slightly overwhelmed. One
step at a time, where would you start if you were doing this at home? I began delegating
jobs for the food prep and slowly, the ball started rolling. It was a challenge
attempting to communicate between a French chef, his Spanish wife, R’s English and
my Spanglish but somehow, we managed to maintain a multi-lingual flow. It was
40° outside and as the curries bubbled away, I
felt like I had entered a sort of spice infused delirium. All of a sudden, it
was 7.30pm and in 1 hour the guests would arrive. A slight part of me wondered
whether this would all go well… would people come? Would the food taste ok?
What would we do if it was a total flop? I took another paracetemol and like a
wave, the anxiety was followed by excitement and then exhaustion. 20 minutes left
to shower and decompress.
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| We did it <3 |
Our 6 housemates were the first to arrive and soon after, guests were
streaming in and filling the tables. It was frantic in the kitchen and V was
stressed out with the reality of instructing a group of amateurs, it was a guessing game after all. The table was set
outside for the curries to be served in huge, clay pots buffet
style. The waitress ran inside, ‘està
lloviendo!’ = it was raining, shit. I chose the path of avoidance and busied
myself in the kitchen - out of sight, out of mind? The umbrellas were put up and
luckily, 10 minutes later the rain had subsided into a light drizzle; the night
had been cleansed. F pulled the hot naan out of the oven and we began serving
the curries, coriander and condiments. The night began to flow as I explained
the dishes to guests in broken Spanish, floated between the tables and
re-filled the clay pots with the help of R and I. 25 guests made it in the
end and everyone was complimentary about the food which is all that mattered. With
full bellies, they paid their bills and R and I began the big clean up. My
adrenaline was wearing thin and the incense sticks had turned to ash, I could
feel us moving into the calm after the storm. We’d done it. We left with a wealth
of knowledge and €200 profit after all the
costs, not bad for a first attempt. F decided it was too stressful to continue
the weekly dinners on his one day off but they offered me a waitressing
position instead; we paid our thanks and left feeling grateful for the
experience and the month’s worth of leftover curry. My childhood dream
of becoming a chef had been actualized and I was finally ready to let go of it,
challenge complete.
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Song of the Day: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L-riOteQkmo
