My Grandmother Lucille (who owned the Wavecrest Resort in Montauk, NY) passed away in October and instead of heading to Montauk (the only place we EVER spent our summers,) my parents shifted gears and announced that we were now going to a place called West Hampton.

WHAT!? Where was that? Did it have Pizza Village and Game A Rama? But more importantly, would Grandma be there? Would the smell of the ocean be the same? Would I be able to play with the switchboard, laugh with my cousins Brian and Scott, play with my aunt in her super cool bedroom in which she kept her match collection? Would all things that meant “summer “to me be found in a place called West Hampton!?

This was all my 10-year-old mind could compute, as it was unable to comprehend that my father’s heart was broken by the loss of his mother and that there just would be too many memories for us in Montauk that summer. So, without any discussion, we were off to West Hampton, to a white rented house on the beach with little furniture, bright modern paintings and white shiny floors. It was fancy and big in a way that was completely different than the small 500 sq. foot cottage that we all shared at The Wavecrest. My sister and I had our own rooms instead of sharing a pullout couch in the living room. People visited that summer and “ohh’d” and “ahh’d” about how amazing the house was…but I did not get it. I longed for the intimacy of the Wavecrest, the community, my cousins, my aunt, the staff, being piled up in blankets 10 deep in the back of Charlie Kelly’s pick up truck to see the fireworks, but mostly, the energy of my Grandma.

In an attempt to distract themselves, my parents tried to start new rituals for my Sister and me. A new spot for ice cream, a new place for mini golf, and our own swimming pool right outside our door instead of the shared one we were so used to at the Wavecrest. We were all longing for a routine that would feel familiar and become ours. We were a family lost, trying desperately to adapt to our new surroundings. And while most of the places felt like shiny new shoes (in the wrong size), that we desperately were trying to fit onto our feet, we did find one spot that became a homey ritual of warmth, great food and laughs. It was a small gourmet food store called The Barefoot Contessa.

I remember loving the place early on: how pretty it was, how good it smelled, the line outside to get in and once in the store, how privileged we all felt. My dad would order an espresso, my mom a coffee and my sister and I would get warm muffins. “Is the wheatberry Salad ready yet?” my Mom would ask. And when “yes” was an answer, we would all look at each other and smile like we won a prize. I think I loved the place most because we were all happy there. It became a ritual; one we all needed that summer. The four of us, little soldiers on a new field.

FAST FORWARD
Last summer, Ryan and I decided to take the plunge and go for our first round of IVF. Married for nearly 11 years, with no natural success at making babies (but with no lack of trying, I assure you) it was time to go to medicine to fix my baby maker. It was July and as summers for us are always light, it would be the perfect time. I took the drugs, went to acupuncture, drank green juice, made the eggs, and voila “You’re pregnant!” was announced to me over the phone.

This news came to us on August 1st and then on August 12th one day before I zipped off to Montauk to do a party for my favorite clients, I received the call. “Your numbers have not doubled. This pregnancy will not thrive”. With not much time to dwell or grieve, Ryan, Fabio, Michele and I (my trusted friends and team) loaded into our cars and headed to Montauk to do what we do best.

When I arrived at my clients’ house that morning, which sat on a magnificent bluff overlooking the Atlantic, I looked at the sun blaring down on the ocean and spoke a few quite words to my grandmother asking her for strength to get through the day and the courage to find the message, rather than dwell in the disappointment.

With my game face on, I retreated into my Zone. My place of comfort and happiness. My home. Work.

The day and party could not be more prefect or beautiful. My clients, both of whom I adore, were all smiles. I was working in a kitchen that one only dreams about…panoramic ocean views, the same ocean my grandmother looked at 40 years earlier. I found comfort in the ocean that day.

But my gaze was interrupted by another vision. Wait really, could it be!? Is that Ina? Is that Ina Garten? Is that Jeffery!? OMG it WAS!!

Fabio came running in at the exact same time I saw her to tell me “Marie, Marie, she is here!” The Fontessa.” I guess Barefoot and Contessa in Brazilian gets a little gargled

Wow…wait was she really eating our food? Was it good? Did we salt well? Did we over salt? Was it too hot or too cold? Memories rushing over me, the wheatbery salad, the shiny white but cold house in West Hampton, my dad smiling as he handed my sister and me our warm muffins. Thought after thought, memory after memory, filled up my mind.

“Mary, I would like you to meet someone.” My favorite client announced as he entered the kitchen.

There she was, Ina, the Fontessa. The Contessa. Did you send her to me, Grandma?

I was a blubbering, non-brain to mouth connected fool. I smiled, gushed, spoke sentences that made no sense and all. All I remember was she was as warm and kind as you would imagine she would be.

She asked ME! For my business card, introduced me to Jeffrey!!! And said a kind and warm goodbye.

A FEW WEEKS LATER
Hurricane Katrina hit the Hudson Valley. My fellow neighbors were unprepared, shocked, devastated and lives were turned upside down. There was nothing to do but pitch in and help with the clean up and repairs so Ryan and I headed to our neighboring town Phoenicia, very very hard hit, and asked where we should go and what should we do?

We were handed two shovels and told to head down a road, “Find any house that needs help and get to work.” There were about seven homes on the block so we picked up our shovels and headed in.

We walked into the backyard of a home that was badly damaged. The water had come up to the second floor of the house. Total devastation. There were about 7 of us. I was given gloves, paper towels and a bucket of warm water. Ryan, one of two men, started to lug out the large furniture into the backyard for us to hose down and attempt to save.

We cleaned off diplomas, pictures, books, remote controls, anything we could to save this family’s memories.

Hot and dirty, I found a small tin box. It was a recipe box; I am a sucker for an old-fashioned recipe box and especially one with handwritten cards (you know the kind) with that beautiful handwriting of grandmothers (no one writes that pretty anymore). I grabbed this box and took it to the owner with pride. I said, “I think we can save this if we put it in the sunlight and let it dry” A warm smile came over this woman who had lost everything. She said, “That would be wonderful. These recipes were my mother’s and my daughter works in television and food, so I’d love to give this to her”. Well then this MUST be saved, I agreed.

Exhausted, tired, dirtier than we had ever been. Ryan and I went home that night to a clean house, hot showers and glowing hearts. The family we helped were so kind and appreciative and I realized how much better it feels to give than receive.

ONE MONTH LATER
I receive a call from a producer from Ina’s show that Ina wanted me to come on her show The Barefoot Contessa wanted me to cook with her. ME!?

TWO MONTHS LATER
Ryan and I are driving from my parent’s home in Montauk to Ina’s house in East Hampton. We pass The Wavecrest on the way. I say “thank you” quietly to my Grandmother as we drive by.

It’s raining heavily when we arrived at Ina’s and a beautiful, delightful woman greets me at the door. She’s about the same age as me and I instantly love her energy. I am SO nervous. I kiss Ryan goodbye, yet secretly want him to stay by my side all day. The woman tells me to sit, to hang out for a few minutes, until we walk into the set. A set that I have watched thousands of times.

I think she sensed I was nervous so instead of going back to her busy ménage of emails and important things she needed to do as the producer of the show, she spoke to me, calmed me with kindness and asked me questions.

Do you live out here?

No, I live in NYC, my folks have a home in Montauk but my heart and real home is in Woodstock, where my husband and I go on weekends.

Oh I love Woodstock. My mother lives in Phoenicia, she says.

Oh Wow! How did she do in the Hurricane? I ask.

Not well, she replies. Her home was devastated; they had water up to the second floor.

Water, Flood, Phoenicia, Second Floor, Tin Recipe Box, Wet Handwritten Cards “My Daughter works in television and food.”

Goosebumps go up and down my entire body. Time stops for a second.
My eyes wide, I say, “I think I may know your mom.”

I begin to tell her my story and we realize that it was her mother’s house and her mother’s backyard in which my husband and I first set down our shovels that day. And now here we are, connecting in The Barefoot Contessa’s kitchen.

The day went on. Ina was as beautiful, warm and as incredibly impressive as you would imagine. Whatever draws you to watch her show or buy her books, multiply that by a thousand and that is what the day was like. She calmed my shaking hands that were trying to make grilled cheese. Just being next to her inspired me to be the best at what I do.

The ocean, the wheatberry salad, the baby, the no baby, the hurricane, my grandmother, the producer’s grandmother’s recipe box, the devastation, the repair. Dreams falling apart, dreams coming true.

Karma sure is a boomerang!

**Picture sent to my by the Producer taken by her Mother the day of the clean up, two months prior to our meeting**

Tune into the Food Network this Saturday, February 25th at 10AM to The Barefoot Contessa.

http://www.foodnetwork.com/barefoot-contessa/modern-comfort/index.html

I have a million questions that run through my head every day that mostly pertain to my career. Why am I doing this? Is this the best job for me? Is this it? What’s next? Did they like the party? Do they like me? What age does one start getting Botox? Was the chicken cooked properly?

And one random ongoing one that I’ve pondered for years “Do you think Mrs. Garret really loved those girls?”

This is my head and the dizziness of questions that plague it.

Years ago, my Dad asked me after an average performance in a school play why I was crying and not enjoying the cast party? My response? “Cause I think I’m only allowed to take one of you to the Academy Awards and it will be very hard to choose between you and Mom.”

As we have already established in my earlier Blogs, my full name should be Mary Delusion Giuliani .

My Dad urged me to find happiness in the now, to stop thinking about or questioning what was next. “Cross that bridge when we get to it, Mary.”

But, I’ve always had a hard time with that one particularly when it came to my career choices.

However, yesterday I realized that there have been moments in my career where I have allowed myself to stop, not question what’s next, be in the moment and take it in. To be “in my zone” as I learned recently at a retreat at www.Kripalu.org means to be doing what you love.

Well, I have one very handsome Gentleman from South Africa to thank for putting me in my zone for the first time. Here is my story.

Early in my career, while working for the amazingly talented Daniel Mattrocce (Chef and Owner of DM Cuisine), we received a call from Colin Cowie’s office that we were to cater an event for Elizabeth Taylor with InStyle at Christie’s.

Well if Liz’s color was violet mine was GREEN, cause that is what I was. It was only three months since I had answered an ad in the New York Times reading (Upscale Catering Company seeks Temporarory Event Planner to work with Art, Fashion & Entertainment Clients) and the ONLY reason I answered the add was that it contained two words I loved: TEMPORARY and ENTERTAINMENT.

And, while I grew up in a family whose lives revolved around food and hospitality, when I started at DM, I knew very little about catering, table settings and samovars (yeah look that one up). At the time we received the call from THE Arbiter of Style Colin Cowie’s office, my kitchen cabinet at home contained a fondue pot, 6 unmatched dinner plates, a glass frog and my Mom’s MOM mug.

My career highlights up until this point had included three jobs that involved me wearing headgear and four firings. Two for getting caught napping under my desk, one for getting caught submitting my headshot for the role of Meadow Soprano instead of the actress I was supposed to submit and lastly one from Nobu which earned me not only the firing but the distinguished honor of being named their most ”inconsistent, unreliable employee they had EVER had!”

Nonetheless, a moment became available to me with that phone call and it was up to me and me alone to figure out what to do with it. Armed with a notepad and my Mom’s Joan River’s earrings (Yes, my mother buys me cloths and jewelry from QVC) off to the meeting of a lifetime I went.

When I opened the Boardroom doors at Christie’s I could not believe what I was walking into. The room was filled with top level Christie’s Executives, the whole Executive team from InStyle Magazine including the wonderful Cyd Wilson, a team of Elizabeth Talylor’s most trusted handlers and ME!?

We were all awaiting the arrival of Colin Cowie. And as if a Hollywood Director yelled out ACTION within moments the boardroom doors flew open and there he was.

He did not walk, he sauntered. He entered the room with his team all dressed perfectly and lintlessly in black. When he began speaking he commanded everyone in the rooms presence, his accent was foreign to me but the most beautiful one I had ever heard. He made words like “over budget” and “over time” sound like sexual position you wanted him to put you in.

This man was like James Bond. I was convinced (and still am) that he could fix you a martini dusted with gold in one hand while disarming a bomb with his other…..but of course ONLY if the lighting plan was perfect.

I looked around the room and just observed, my heart was racing with nerves.

When carpets, crystals, elephants, Nehru jackets for the men responsible for picking up the elephants poop, lighting, sound, press and VIP guests were done being discussed Colin looked at me and introduced himself.

“Colin Cowie” he spoke as he shook my trembling hand.

“And you are?”

“Mary Giuliani. I’m the caterer.”

“Mary Giuliani” he repeated. My name never sounded prettier.

He then began with what I call WHAT COLIN COWIE HAS TAUGHT ME #1
“Food is like theater, and what happens in the first five minutes will set the tone for the rest of the evening. As important as what’s being served, is how it looks. We dine with our eyes first, Darling”.

With a small wink he quickly began a stream of perfectly connected and free flowing thoughts.

“The trays are to covered with moss, the pea soup must be topped with chervil, the caviar must be from Petrossian” (I made a mental not to look up where or what Petrossian was!?).

When someone in the room suggested we serve pigs in a blanket (Elizabeth Taylor’s favorite) he quickly retorted “I’m only serving pigs in a blanket Darlings, if they are presented in mounds of caviar”
WHAT!? This Man was amazing! If the Beatles had the Maharishi I now had Colin Cowie.

I think he could see the fear in my eyes or smell the green in my feet, cause he paused, walked over to me and said quietly, “I have total confidence you and your team can pull this off”.

That was all I needed to hear. Colin Cowie the Man who threw Oprah’s 50th Birthday party, the man that could transform a tennis court to look like the inside of a royal palace had confidence in ME!? The girl who faked a learning disability to get out of taking Spanish.

Well Mr. Bond, I mean Cowie I said to myself, I accept your mission.

I worked extra hard to make sure everything was perfect for that event. I spent late hours with Daniel learning all the proper words for things and even tried caviar for the first time (still don’t really love it). If this was the movie of my life, this would be the part when the cheesy song starts plays while image of my growth appear on screen. I start off with flour on my face and a flat soufflé and by the end of the song, I have a new haircut, a great outfit and am placing a perfectly cooked chicken on the table (the song So Far So Good from About Last Night comes to mind).

When the event day arrived, I did all I could to make sure that we did the best job we could and even when Ms. Talyor arrived two hours late cause she had inadvertently locked herself inside her hotel bathroom, we had enough food and drinks that the guests remained happy.

I observed Colin throughout the entire project, his attention to detail, how he presented himself, the pride he took in what he did, he was an artist and each event space was his canvas. It was less about serving others and more about making others transform, experience and travel.

And in observing him, I realized for the first time I wasn’t thinking about what was next, I was doing something that I loved and that was it! No more going back to jobs that required me to wear headgear.

Watching Colin made me feel like Steve Martin in the Jerk when he tells the Gas Station owner “If this is out there…….think what else is out there!!”

When the party was done and the last piece of moss removed from the trays, Colin came over to me, thanked me and then said “Mary, we will do great things together in this business.” Wait did he just say “WE??” and with that my Maharishi sauntered off into the night.

Two years later…….I started my Own Catering Company.

Since then Colin and I have collaborated on many great events together but this Tuesday, nine years since I walked into that Christie’s Boardroom, Colin and I are teaming up to work on a an event as magical as our first

This Valentine’s Day, to celebrate the launch of www.ColinCowieWeddings.com, Colin will transform the top of the Empire State Building into four dreamlike wedding ceremonies for four lucky couples and he has asked me (the girl with The MOM Mug that didn’t know what a samovar was) to be his Catering partner.

And while my fear of heights will be in full effect that day a top the Empire State Building. I know that I will be doing what I love, being in my zone and working with my Maharishi and that makes me feel happy.

This Valentine’s Day if you feel like it, ask yourself what do you love to do and do it! And if you can ask yourself that question in a pair of Joan Rivers earrings while eating a pig in a blanket (with or without caviar) even better.

Happy Valentine’s Day!

Love,
Mary

I was the type of kid who went to see ET, and then would come home and ask my Grandfather to help me figure out a way to make my bicycle fly. We worked on this for about a week and at the end of the week, my bicycle was hooked up to a pulley system tied between two cables and sure enough I was flying.

After seeing the film The Goonies, I enlisted all the kids on my block to star in a production of a knock off film I wrote titled “The Adventure Kids, Part One”(cause of course there was going to be a sequel). I held auditions, casted, directed and sure enough a few weeks later, we shot the film. With my VHS tape in hand (or maybe it was even a Beta) I called 411, got the phone number for NBC and when the NBC receptionist answered, I boldly asked the question, “How much does it cost to get my movie on your network?” I was 8.

When I felt like I didn’t fit in at school, Alyssa Milano became my best friend cause she was just like me! She had a strong yet loving father, she was a tomboy, her Grandmother lived in her house like mine did AND my mother even had the same hair color as Judith Light…80’s frosted blonde. The only difference was that I looked like Ralph Macchio (who I had a crush on so does that make me a narcissist?) and she, well was the beautiful and super cool Alyssa Milano.

At this point please feel free to insert the proper adjectives to describe or diagnose me: delusional, crazy, insane, borderline personality.

Whatever the clinical definition of my mind may be, pure and simply, movies and TV were very real to me in great ways. They were how I traveled, learned about relationships, developed my sense of humor (thank you George Carlin and Grandma Lucille for the free HBO in your Montauk hotel) and in many ways how to cook.

One very easy way I could make the movies or TV shows come to life, was by making the food from them (this was before we had the Food Network). My Mother (and amazing cook) was always in the kitchen, while I sat in the den in front of her watching these TV shows or films. So when I would see something, I would yell, “Can we make that?” And being the great sport my Mom was, most of the time she would say yes.

Note: I think a therapist would say that my Mom, Dad and Grandparents (that lived in my basement) were huge enablers.

Food and film became a passion for me. If the little boy in Kramer vs. Kramer made French toast with his Dad, I sure as hell was going to do it too. When Daryl Hannah ate a whole Lobster in Splash, I begged my parents to take me to the local lobster night, when Mrs. Garret baked cookies for Tootie, you could bet that Mom and I would be in the kitchen the very next day baking those darn Tootie cookies. I once saw a man make a grilled cheese with an iron on an ironing board (I think it was Bachelor Party?) so there I was with an ironing board, two pieces of bread and a grilled cheese stuck to my iron (you have to butter the iron by the way

You would think that as the years have gone on, I would have outgrown this silly little obsession?

Nuh uh….

When my husband asked me how I wanted to celebrate my 30th Birthday? Without hesitation I asked if I could have a JERK themed birthday party.

What’s that?

It’s when everyone is invited and asked to come dressed as a character from the Steve Martin film, THE JERK(my favorite). All the food served was taken from the film. Things like pizza in a cup, corn dogs, and escargot. People came as Gas Station Navin, Robe clad Navin, My sister was an awesome Bernadette Peters and I of course came dressed as Patty the motorcycle girlfriend that Navin meets in the Circus. My dog Stanley even wore a sign around his neck that said “Shithead” (sorry Stan…Mama loves you).

And now my dream has come true as I have found new enablers.

Seven years ago when we started MGCE my very first client was Tribeca Cinemas and the Tribeca Film Festival. Talk about this little Italian Girls dream…..movies, cocktails and food all in one place! You talking to me!?

After many years of working together, last May, we partnered with Tribeca Cinemas (now The Varick Room) and guess what!? We are working on a bunch of movie/food themed nights. Our very first one is coming up this Valentines Day, where we will screen Fatal Attraction and serve a menu I created taken from references in the film.

http://perks.urbandaddy.com/new-york/tribeca-cinemas.html

And while I may not fly my bicycle over the moon….

I now have a home where we can travel together into the screen and experience all the delicious bites together.

So stop by The Varick Room http://www.tribecacinemas.com/varick-room/and pretend with me ☺

PS. I did however go on to cater my imaginary childhood best friend Alyssa Milano’s wedding (FOR REAL) so maybe there is something to my delusions

Not sure about you guys, but my favorite time to listen to music is when I am cooking or getting my house ready for a party. And not just listen, I turn up the volume super high, sing, dance like an animal, throw my arms up in the air and rock a high kick if the moment takes me.

I made this playlist last week and cooked for hours while my dogs and my husband watched the Giants game and ignored (me) the crazy lady singing into the wooden spoon and dancing around the spinach dip.

Wanted to share the list with you in case you are feeling like rockin out this weekend in your kitchen.

Happy Friday!

Love,
Mary

AH MARY-Grace Potter & The Nocturnals
CAN YOU HEAR ME KNOCKIN-Rolling Stones
SAVOY TRUFFLE-The Beatles
JUDY BLUE EYES-Crosby, Still, Nash & Young
SING FOR YOUR SUPPER-The Mamas & The Pappas
WATERMELON IN EASTER HAY-Frank Zappa
ONE BIG HOLIDAY-My Morning Jacket
CAN YOU DIG IT-The Monkees
THE WEIGHT-The Band
LA VIE EN ROSE-Edith Piaf
WHISKEY IN MY WHISKEY-The Felice Brothers
COOK OF THE HOUSE-Wings
STRANGE FRUIT-Billie Holiday
ALICE’S RESTAURANT-Arlo Guthrie
MILKSHAKE-Peter Tork
PARIS-Grace Potter
POPSICLE TOES-Michael Franks
SUNDAY KIND OF LOVE-Etta James

I remember watching an episode of Oprah where she explained the direct relationship between how you care for your purses and how you manage your finances. Well, if you took one look inside my bags, you would think I ran a broken down hot dog cart on 42nd Street rather than a high end catering company.

While there are usually no methods to my madness, I do have one yearly ritual that I share with these four purses. I sit on my bed, and with a box marked 2011 in front of me and a garbage pail at my feet, I begin to sift through the memories of my year.

I toss things into the garbage like broken cigarettes, loose gum that has pieces of broken cigarettes in it, even worse loose gum with pieces of broken cigarettes wrapped around a penny, ATM receipts and movie tickets (unless I really loved the movie in which case it then gets throw into the 2011 Box, MIDNIGHT IN PARIS is the only stub that made it into the box this year).

EW GROSS! I find a broken potato chip that I wrapped in a cocktail napkin and stuck in my purse from Blue Hill. I do this sometimes when I want to show our Chef food I’d like to copy. It was a sage potato chip…so delicious.

What gets thrown into the keep box?

Hotel keys or cards (I always keep them and get super happy when a hotel gives out an actual key) from The Grace Bay Club in Turks and Caicos, The Encontado in New Mexico, The Viceroy in Santa Monica, The Muri Muri & Mandarin Oriental in Barcelona, The Playa Sol in Cadaques, The Ritz in New Orleans, The Mandalay Bay in Las Vegas and a few from the Sunset Marquis in LA.

Ryan and I realized this year that one of our favorite things to do, is to check into the Sunset Marquis and assume the lifestyle of a band from the 1970’s. Sometimes we make up fake names like Buck and Layla.

One trip to the Marquis this year proved quite successful landing us a spot on our first private plane ride with two of my idols. I will never forget the excitement I felt that day or how much Ryan laughed when I told him to quickly snap a picture to capture my “Turtle” from Entourage moment.

Security badges to enter the buildings for The Today Show, The Nate Berkus Show and a scrap thank you note drafted to Ina Garten. When I was a little girl I always dreamed of being on television. I remember telling my Grandpa Charlie during our Saturday night ritual of watching the Love Boat, that one day, I too was going to be on The Love Boat. But only after I won a gold medal in the 1984 Olympics for gymnastics (I could barely do a cartwheel).

Concert tickets to the Monkess on both June 16th and 17th. Singing Going Down with Micky Dolenz was definitely the stand out of my year. In case you missed, it can be found on YouTube. Does 221 Views count as “going viral”?

Concert tickets to Mountain Jam, My Morning Jacket (Philly and NYC), Grace Potter (New Orleans, NY, CT), Florence and the Machine, The Felice Brothers, a sticker from Levon Helm’s Ramble.

Wristbands from my favorite music venue in Woodstock; The Bearsville Theater to see Leon Russell, Steven Stills, Todd Rundgren, Jackie Green and Miss Angie’s Karaoke. One of these days Miss Angie you will let me sing my song….I just know it.

A receipt for my failed IVF transfer, a card a friend sent me offering both strength and encouragement to get through the disappointment.

A feather heart made out of construction paper from my nephew Luke.

A small pinecone gift from my little pal Harry. A note with a dog drawn on it from Laszlo.

Ticket to the Dali’s house.….one of the best days of my year.

Receipt for a sparkly dress I bought at ALL SAINTS that late one night I took off and gave away, cause I felt it needed to be worn by a real Rock Star. Never did I think that Rock Star would end up wearing my dress on the stage of Bonnaroo!

A bookmark from Book and Cookies in Los Angeles www.booksandccokiesla.com SO proud of my pal Chudney Ross and how she realized one of her dreams this year!! Can’t wait to see her first book on the shelves this year!

GROSS….a mini hamburger bun from one of our parties. I really have to stop leaving my bag open on the kitchen floor of our parties. That’s not going into the box.

Paint swatches for our new house.

Receipt from a bad haircut that I recieved after going into the salon with a picture of Drew Barrymore and coming out looking like Liza Manelli. I’m keeping this to serve as a reminder to NEVER go back to that salon.

Keys to our house on Coldbrook Road, our first house that taught me that a home could actually end up being one of the greatest loves of your life.

SHOCKED by the amount of pedicure and food receipts I have accumulated (we NEVER eat at home during the week). Which explains the extra few pounds I gained this year. But hey, my toes look awesome.

A letter from my Dad….

A letter from my Mom….

As I slid the top onto the box marked 2011 with all my mementos safely inside, this is what I realized 2011 and these items taught me:

No matter how well laid out your plans are, the most perfect moments in life are those not planned.

It feels so much better to give than receive.

No matter how many places you travel to…there is NO place like home.

That marrying for love can get you through some of the hardest moments of your life and marrying your best friend only makes the fun moments that much more fun.

That your greatest friends are found during the best times of your life (my best friend Lauren Balkin taught me that years ago) and she sure was right.

That lady lobsters when thrown in a pail will try to pull each other down, while male lobsters climb on top of each other to make a ladder to help each other out. 2011 surrounded me with some of the greatest Lady Lobsters that build ladders and encouraged rather than pull each other down. So lucky to have such cool chicks in my life.

The power of magical thinking. So many of my dreams came true this year and I know they are 100% a result of my extreme delusions of grandeur! No matter how crazy people think I am. I am going to continue to dream and believe it may come true.

That doing what you love is a gift, but doing it with people you love is a blessing.

And most importantly….

I REALLY have to stay in and cook more during the week!!

I wish you all a New Year filled with love, happiness, dreams come true and sage potato chips.

Love,
Mary

SAGE POTATO CHIPS
http://www.saveur.com/article/Recipes/Sage-Potato-Chips

Very early in my career, I received a call from (let’s call her) Elaine Lewis.  Elaine was the Grand Dame of New York City Entertaining.  When Elaine spoke, you listened.  I was extremely lucky (at least that is what she told me on that first phone call) that I was to be given the opportunity to work with her and I had one (she repeated one) chance to get it right.  She asked me if I would meet her at her Park Avenue apartment to discuss her Thanksgiving dinner

I quickly slammed down the phone, announced loudly and proudly to my office that Elaine Lewis needed ME!? and ran out the door.  Dressed in a green velvet pant-suit from Annie Sez and a great pair of Lucci’s NOT Gucci’s (an early Christmas gift from my Mother, who was so excited about her QVC purchase from the Susan Lucci collection that she just couldn’t wait to gift them to me) I was off and ready to meet the chicest lady in New York City.

When I arrived at Elaine’s, I was greeted first by her doorman(who gave me that “Good Luck Little Sister” look), then her butler, then her housekeeper and then her assistant.  They ushered me into her living room, which was like nothing I had ever seen before, it was so big you could land an airplane in it and an art collection that would make Peggy Guggenheim green with envy.

She also had a dog the size of a hamster that was barking so loud it distracted me from paying close attention to the fact that it (the dog) was wearing a diamond necklace!

Elaine was pleasant but curt, she was very busy (at least that’s what she told me three times in our 10 minute meeting) and needed my utmost attention.

She asked her assistant if the china she wanted to use for this Thanksgiving dinner was in New York, Aspen or Malibu?  When her assistant responded that it was unfortunately in Malibu, a very visibly upset Elaine asked me, “Marie, (I did not have the chuptza to correct her) Do you have any idea what it is like to have four homes and only three house managers?”

Having just bounced a check to Blockbuster…….…I did not.

She then began listing the following rules that she insisted all “her” caterers were to abide by.

Marie,

1-I would like a Thanksgiving Display that is both grand and abundant.  I want four turkeys; one for show, three for eating.  You are to shellac the prop turkey so that it shines and glistens like this (she pointed to her coffee table and in all fairness it was VERY shiny).

2-I want trays, tiers and more trays of traditional side dishes.  If you are thinking of making one type of stuffing, dazzle me with three different types. The same goes for the vegetables, starches, breads and pies…I want food, food and more food.

3-if my husband is “over served” too much wine by your waiters I will hold YOU personally responsible

And lastly….on Thanksgiving Day the waiters “MUST come dressed as Pilgrims”.

“Pilgrims!!??”  I asked with a chuckle, but she was NOT kidding, nor did she enjoy me laughing at her instruction.  She described the costumes from the type of hats she wanted them to wear down to the authentic black clog shoes that she wanted me to source from a website she had researched.  She gestured to her assistant and a picture was handed to me.

When she was done, she asked me, “Are my expectations clear Marie?”

All that was clear to me was that I thought this Lady Bird was nuts and I that was really scared of her.  But I responded, “Yes, Mrs. Lewis, this will be the best Thanksgiving dinner you’ve ever had.”

I spent the next two weeks begging our lovely and very loyal waiters to don the dreaded Pilgrim costume (reluctantly they agreed but we had to put a few extra pumpkin pies in their paychecks

Thanksgiving day arrived and it was do or die.

My heart was beating as Mrs. Lewis entered the dining room to inspect the Thanksgiving Food Art that we worked so hard on to display.  She carefully dissected the table down to each individual dinner roll and when she was done, looked me in the eye, feigned a half smile and said, “Mary, you will do very well here.”  Here???  I panicked, were they ever going to let me go home!!???

So, you think that with this nod of approval the rest of the evening was smooth sailing??  Well, my friends… let me fast forward you through the dinner.

First, Mr. Lewis needed no help from my waiters, as he had amply “over served” himself and was so inebriated that he never made it from the living room to the dining room table. On top of that, it was that weird Thanksgiving that it snowed so most guests cancelled last minute, leaving Mrs. Lewis with 6 pies, three turkeys, eight trays of vegetables, a husband with a rocket buzz and me; the caterer wearing shoes designed by Soap Star Susan Lucci!

When I got home that night, my husband Ryan could see the horror in my face as he helped me unload the six bags of leftovers Mrs. Lewis instructed that I take with me.

Exhausted, I began to focus on our Thanksgiving celebration that was planned for the following night.

I started to think about all that Elaine Lewis had to do to prove to the world that she was on top of it.  I looked around my small apartment and suddenly LESS became MORE for me.  I was very thankful in that moment that my apartment was the size of Elaine’s guest bathroom and our art collection was from Ikea rather than Sotheby’s.

It was in that moment, that I came up with the idea of Mini Thanksgiving!  This Thanksgiving I was going to do less with more.  I decided to turn everything into mini bite sized versions of Thanksgiving favorites.

I am thankful for my experience with Mrs. Elaine Lewis as I learned a lot from that dinner but the most important lesson learned was, NO ONE other than a REAL Pilgrim should ever actually wear that horrible costume!

MINI THANKSGIVING MENU
Roasted Turkey with Cranberry Chutney on Mini Pumpkin Biscuits
Wild Mushrooms in Mini Parmesan Nests
Mini Sausage and Sage Stuffing Caps
Trio of Warm Soups: Wild Mushroom, Spicy Tomato and Ginger Carrot served in shot glasses
Kale, Apple Salad Rolls
Mini Grilled Cheese with Brie and Cranberries
DESSERT

Mini Pumpkin Pies with Cinnamon Whipped Cream & Mini Pecan Pies

Kale Apple Salad Rolls

Dressing

1/4 cup red wine vinegar

1/4 cup Extra Virgin Olive Oil

2 oz. pecorino cheese

salt & pepper

Spring Rolls

8 8-1/2″ diameter rice paper rounds

One 8oz bunch of Kale (leave finely chopped)

2 Granny Smith Apples (cut into matschsticks)

How To

Whisk dressing ingredients together and season with salt and freshly ground pepper.

Mix finely chopped kale and apples with a small amount of dressing(just enough to bind ingredients).  Place in bowl to side.

Pour some warm water into a large shallow dish. Submerge one rice paper round in water until it begins to soften, about 45 seconds. Place on a sheet of parchment paper.  Place small amount of filliging in center of rice paper.  Tightly roll into a cylinder, enclosing filling. Repeat with remaining rounds. Cover with a dampened paper towel or wrap in plastic. Chill. Can be made 4 hours ahead.

When ready to serve, remove from plastic and cut each piece into three 2′ long pieces. Stand upright on platter and top with a spot of dressing.  Can put crumbled pancetta or chopped nuts on top for flavor and garnish.

Last summer, exactly on the first day I began my highly anticipated two-week summer vacation in Woodstock, I received a call from one of our biggest and brightest celebrity clients that needed a last minute party in the Hamptons.  (Thing BIG

This is a moment when NO is just not an option.

When “this client” calls, you quickly turn off that Joni Mitchell record, remove the sheet that you have fashioned into your casual evening ware, jump in the shower (yes the one you weren’t planning on using for two weeks) and get right back in that car and point her Southeast, cause that is where you are headed.

6 hours later, I pulled into “this clients” driveway (story would be SO much cooler if I could actually tell you who it was…again…just think BIG) where Fabio our brilliant Creative Director was waiting for me with a briefing.

“Maria, (he is Brazilian and has called me Marie since the day we met)  I think it may be Madonna’s birthday party, not sure but they are making quite a fuss.”

“Did you shower?”  He asked, as he looked me up and down.

“Yes Fabio” I showered.

While we walked up the long beautiful driveway together, I began to think about all the amazing clients we have been blessed to work with and ok for a hot second allowed myself to fantasize what it would be like to just be a guests at one of these amazing parties rather than be the girl serving the crab cakes, but I could not ponder for long cause it was time to get to work.

So, the dinner begins and waiters are coming in and out of the kitchen giving me updates (NONE food related of course) listing to me all the A-List celebs that were arriving in the room just outside the kitchen.  None really peeked my interest until the below sentence was uttered.

“Mary!” Waiter A began, “Alec Baldwin is here”.

EXCUSE ME!  Alec??? MY Alec??

I LOVE Alec Baldwin.  I love Alec Baldwin so much that if I were HE, I would NOT allow ME near him.

But, I bet you think I am talking about the cute, young Married To The Mob, Knots Landing or Working Girl Alec Baldwin

No, no, my dear friends.  I love the big, messy, perfectly blown out Alec Baldwin.  My porn is a shot of him and Jack Nicholson on a yacht in St. Barths…..shirtless!

I LOVE ALEC and HE was finally within meeting distance.

OK, so start your small violin for me cause this is Part One of why being a caterer to the stars sometime STINKS!

You know how couples have passes in their relationships that they create, like “Honey, if you ever met Angelia Jolie you could totally have sex with her as long as I could have sex with Brad Pitt?”

Couples say this knowing that they have a one in a million chance of this ever happening. Safe bet right?  Well here is the pain of my life, Ryan and I do from time to time meet “our free passes” and now mine was less than 10 feet away.  TORTURE!

I needed to see him up close, but I couldn’t just walk into the party.

So, what do I do?  I excuse myself from the kitchen and begin a ninja like obstacle course through the backyard of “this clients” house to sneak a peek of my Alec. (Fabulous landscaping by the way.)

Once there, I stood outside the window watching my perfectly imperfect Alec mingling with guests enjoying some of our hors d’oeuvres.  I felt like Stella Dallas standing outside the window of her daughters wedding.  And then the harsh reality of two things set in.

One: There was a considerably large piece of glass and house in the way of me ever even meeting “My Alec”.

Two: Even if the universe wanted our stars to collide and I was in the exact place THE SECRET wanted me to be, I was in fact, a very happily married woman of ten years.

I took one final glimpse, sighed, ok, maybe even spoke aloud, “we could have been something Baldwin” and began a deflated walk back to the kitchen.

“What do you think?” Fabio asked as he shoved a plate of filet in my face for the first course approval.

“It’s fine Fabio, but NOT fair” I dramatically pouted as he looked at me totally confused as to what fine or fair had anything to do with a piece of filet.

And THEN the kitchen door swung open and there he was!  Huge, beautiful, gorgeous, MY ALEC in the kitchen!

I looked up and we made direct eye contact, his eyes so piercingly blue and beautiful they actually play music, his hand outstretched to MINE!  The biggest hand in the entire world enveloped my small trembling one.

“Alec” he introduced himslef.

“M-M-M Mary.  Nice to meet you.”

What’s for dinner?  He asked, but what I heard was, “What are you feeding me with your hands after a sweaty love making session in “this clients” wine cellar?”

“Do you like Italian?” I managed to get the question out of my mouth

“Yes, I do.”  He said.

But what I heard was, “Let skip the sex Giuliani, let’s go straight to marriage.  You, Mary are what I have been looking for my whole life and I want to grow old with you.”

We were quickly interrupted when the kitchen door swung open and an agent type man walked in and grabbed Alec out of the kitchen.

He was gone.

Without skipping a beat, I reached for my cell phone in my pocket and found myself inside the coat closet of “this clients” kitchen. (Amazing closet by the way.)

“Ryan?”

“Yes.” My husband answered with a “are you really surprised that I am answering our home phone?” tone.

“I need to tell you something.  Never before has our marriage been compromised in any way, as it is right now.”

Without skipping a beat, Ryan began to laugh and asked, “Is Baldwin there?

I gulped, “Yes”

There was a knock on the door.

I opened it.

Fabio was there with an urgent message, “MARIE, he is back and asking for you!”  (Fabio of course knew where to find me as I can often be found hiding in the coat closet of my client’s kitchens

“I love you honey”, I told Ryan as if it were the last time we would ever speak.

I walked towards Alec, guided only by the blue light piercing from his eyes.

Here it was, the moment I both dreaded and welcomed at the same time.  Sure, Ryan would be upset for a week maybe even a month.  But after we divided the assets, he giving me the Woodstock house and I reluctantly giving him our dog Stanley to mend his broken heart, time would heal all wounds and we would both realize it was for the best.

Alec stopped in front of me.  He had a question.

I was ready to respond and leave all the possessions of my worldly life behind me.

And then it came.

“Mary?”

“Yes Alec”

“Can I please have a diet coke?”

And with that……our romance was over

As Fabio recalls,  I made my way to the fridge and poured him the “saddest diet coke ever served”.

A simple ”thanks” as he turned his back to me and made his way out the swinging kitchen door.

“IT COULD HAVE BEEN SO BEAUTIFUL” by the great Debbie Gibson began to play in the soundtrack of my mind as my cell phone rang.

It was Ryan with a question.  I guess he could tell by my voice that all did go well with Baldwin.

“Don’t worry Mary,  I too have Schweddy Balls and would be more than happy to show you them when you get home”.

Ahhhhh…true love

THE COULD HAVE BEEN Schweddy Balls Ice Cream Float

INGREDIENTS

Ben & Jerry’s Schweddy Balls Ice cream

Diet Coke

METHOD

Spoon a scoop or two of ice cream into a tall glass. Slowly pour diet coke into the glass, allowing the foam to rise and then recede before adding more diet coke.

When I was 8 years old, my Dad came home with a beta max player and a copy of film THE JERK, so my evening ritual after lights out was to lug this large piece of equipment into my bedroom and watch THE JERK every night.  I must have done this for about two years because I can still recite every line from that movie like scripture from the bible.

Since I stayed up most of the night with Steve Martin, mornings were always a bit tough for me.

Mornings at my house began with my mother shaking me violently, pulling the covers off me, yelling at me to brush my hair and teeth, get dressed and come to breakfast.

I would do all of the above very slowly and not well at all.  I would arrive at the breakfast table where my sister, who’s perfect barrettes matched her perfect dress……perfectly, would be finishing the last few bites of her cereal while quietly reading (electively I’m sure).

My mother would look at me; shake her head with a  “Really? This came out of me?” look and yell at me to finish my pancakes.  A honk in the driveway and Bus 24 was there to take us on our long journey 45 minutes away to the next town.

My sister would get on the bus first and always take the first seat to the right and bury herself back in her book.  I would follow behind, with my unbrushed wild hair, half dressed in a messy uniform with pancake syrup stuck to the side of my face.  I opted for the back seat of the bus.

The ride there stunk.  Nanette (my sister) and I were the only two students that lived in the “other town”.  Since we were the only students that came from a town our peers did not know, we were mysterious and with mystery comes lots of whispers, stares and speculation.  I’m sure the fact that I had one eyebrow (my mom refused to let me wax) and toted a rusted Monkess lunch box from 1966 did not help our cause.

Since there was already mystery surrounding who we were and where we came from, I felt it was my obligation to exaggerate the truth just a bit.  If we were going to be the talk of the bus, I was going to give them something to talk about.

My exaggerations OK lies, were easy to get away with, as my sister had mastered the art of ignoring me and mostly stuck to her studies, so while I would be in the back of the bus holding court and “Big Fishing” it, my sister couldn’t have been further away.

The film THE JERK would serve as inspiration for my tall tales.

“Yes, Anna Maria Russo”  I would begin,  ”We have a bathtub shaped like a clam and a red billiards room.”

“What’s a billiards room?”  Tom Sweeney would ask.

“It a place to play pool and where you display your stuffed camel collection.”

As Wow’s and Ah’s and What Else’s were thrown my way, I realized I was LOVING this attention.

“Mary, do you really have a tennis court and a pool”?

“I have THREE pools, Frank Gagino and a water cooler that dispenses red and white wine.  After my tennis lesson, I sometimes sneak a little white wine.”

This went on for weeks….the crowd on the bus growing larger each day.

When I had used up all my references from THE JERK, I moved onto my other two favorite movies at the time which were THE GOONIES and THE TOY (with Jackie Gleason and Richard Pryor)

At one point, I had the entire bus believing me that I had a disco tech in my basement, that my father bought me Richard Pryor to play with and that there was a pirate ship buried in the lake behind my house that only my friend Josh wink Brolin and I knew how to find.

And then one day…the jig was up.  A girl at school actually wanted to have a play date with me!?  Yes me, the weird girl that smelled like pancake syrup, with one eyebrow that lived in the “other” town.  I remember being excited and terrified in that same moment. I quickly told her yes and a date was set.

The days leading up to her arrival, I did the best I could to make my house have all the things I boasted it would.  I put two blow up pools next to our existing in ground pool (I never told them what kind of pools we had).  I begged my cousin Scott to bring over his mini pool table and make shifted a billiards room in my basement, put a blinking flashlight in our spare “junk” room, disco tape in my boom box and POOF I had a disco.

My mother asked me what I was doing while I was in the middle of the living room lugging around a large fern (I had also said we had a jungle in our living room) and I told her setting up for my friend Anne Marie’s arrival.  I then asked her if she would be so kind as to serve us our pizza in a cup (like Navin did in THE JERK) again my Mom gave me that face, “This came out of me?”

When Anne Marie arrived at my house, I was panicked.  I took her quickly on a tour of the house to see all the things I said I had, making excuses for why Richard Pryor was not there to play with us or the arcade I boasted about having with its very own Ms Pac Man machine had been destroyed in “the flood”.

“It was just terrible Anne Marie, just terrible, our Giraffe drowned in that flood too”.

Slowly Anna Marie started to realize that the only thing drowning was ME, in my sea of lies.  In the nick of time, my Mother called us up for lunch where She, the good sport that she was had cut up our pizza and placed the pieces into little cups with forks.  Anne Marie smiled.  It was just how I described.

I sat there waiting for her to get mad or angry, to call me a liar to tell me that she was going to tell everyone at school the truth.

I waited and waited, piece by piece, Anne Marie quietly finishing each bite of her pizza in a cup.

When she was done she placed the empty cup down, looked at me and said, “Mary, you have a very good imagination. This pizza is really good. Can I come back tomorrow”?

And with that, thanks to Anne Marie (sorry….I can’t remember her last name’s) Free Pass……a monster was created.  Granting me permission to elaborate the truth allowed me to develop some really creative thinking skills  And actually those skills have proved to be quite helpful in the business of creating unique party experiences for living. In fact, just the other day, I had to convince a client to turn their basement into a disco.  When asked had I ever done that before, I could confidently reply yes.

OH AND…..I’m still loyal to my favorite films fine donation to American Cuisine, but instead of serving Pizza in a cup, we created an hors d’oeuvres called Deconstructed Pizza.

DECONSTRICTED PIZZA

INGREDIENTS

12 cherry tomatoes

12 basil leaves

12 bocconcini balls

2 liters of vegetable oil

BREADING

1 Egg

1 Cup Italian Breadcrumbs

HOW TO

Heat oil in a large saucepan until bubbles begin to appear.

Beat 1 Egg and coat all 12 bocconcini balls with Italian breadcrumbs

Fry in saucepan until golden brown.

Place on paper towel to soak up oil

SKEWER

Take one cherry tomato (Roasted are better), one piece of basil and one fried bocconcini ball and place on skewer.  Repeat for all 12.

For a little extra flavor, you can dot each skewer with homemade or store bought pesto sauce and serve on a plate coated with a flurry or parmesan cheese.

Enjoy!

Last Saturday my morning began at 6:00AM with a frantic call from one of our waiters that he was outside our kitchen in Long Island City with the rest of the wait staff, but there were no Chef’s in site and the kitchen containing all the food for the party was locked.  This is a call that you NEVER want to get, but particularly when the staff has to make their way all the way out to Montauk, Long Island for a 10AM call and sometimes traffic can take up to four hours!

Head to toe panic set in as I quickly went to the worst case scenario which was me explaining to my favorite client that there would be no food, booze or wait staff at their party, my career ending and me applying for a job at The Chicken Box.

Luckily within minutes, the problem was resolved, I recieved a call that the Chef’s arrived, the kitchen was unlocked and the food, beverage and staff were on their way.  But in those 20 or so minutes, I started to contemplate the stress level of this job and did it out weigh the reward?  I mean, I am a caterer not a heart surgeon (a fate I quickly realized was not mine when I received a D in Organic Chemistry) yet why did everything seem so urgent?

When I got to the job site, which sat on a beautiful piece of property overlooking the Atlantic, I took a moment to breath, collect myself and turn panic into progress.  The sun was sparkling over the water and I was overwhelmed with memories of Montauk past..….particularly of my Grandmother Lucille.

I knew she would have found a solution for my little kitchen problem and began to think about all she had accomplished during her time on this earth.

In 1938 my Grandmother Lucille (a piano teach from Queens) took a bus ride east with her mother to a town called Montauk.  They had seen an ad in a magazine advertising plots of land for $50.00.

The bus ride took 7 hours (on dirt roads and a few flat tires) but when the bus doors opened and my Grandmother stood out atop a cliff over looking the Atlantic Ocean (similar to the one I stood on Saturday), she threw her arms to the sky and said this is where she was meant to be.

Her family purchased 6 plots of land for $300.00 total, put $50.00 down and paid $5.00 a month.  Shortly after that they began to build their home.

One day while in the town grocery store, a man traveling with his family was complaining that he had traveled such a long way and that there was not one hotel room available in the entire town.

Well, that is all my Grandmother Lucille needed to hear.  With my six-year old father’s small hand in hers, she approached the man and offered him to stay in the extra bedroom of her house for $10.00 a night.

The man said yes and Lucille’s dream began.

From renting her spare guests room she went on (with my Grandfathers love, hard work and support) to build four rooms in the center of town, then growing it to 20 (to form the shape of an L for Lucille…the building still sits in tact today directly behind the Memory Hotel), then adding a pool (I believe the first in town) and this was just the beginning, once she got started, there was no stopping Lucille.

She truly believed in Montauk.  Her love for it was fierce and she wanted to share it with the whole world.  To her Montauk represented freedom, artistic diversity and each churn of the ocean brought her endless possibilities.

She continued to grow her hotel business and while doing that she also managed to open the first medical center in Montauk, become the first female President of the Chamber of Commerce, purchased the ferry rights from Montauk to Block Island and build a snack shop (which is now home to Cynthia Rowley’s delicious clothing shop….how cool:)

However, her crowing achievement would be purchasing and building her dream hotel The Wavecrest Resort, which sat on 5 oceanfront acres on Old Montauk Highway.  Oh and this was all done while raising three children.

My earliest memories of Montauk were spent at the Wavecrest. I, the youngest of Lucille’s Grandchildren relished in the chance to follow Lucille around, I did it so much I even earned the nickname Little Lucille.

Nothing was better than watching her welcome thousands of tourist each summer with her genuine warmth and enthusiasm.  She let me play with the switchboard (the cool old fashioned kind), sit on her lap during meetings with her staff, drive in the back of her Caddy while checking on business in town (but always stopping for a milkshake at Anthony’s first) but my most coveted moment was when she allowed me to hang the NO VACANCY sign on Old Montauk Highway.  I can still see her smile, as each hanging of the sign was a celebration, a validation.

People loved being around her because she was living a dream come true and knowing her made you feel like anything was possible.  I always asked my Dad “How did she, a piano teacher from Queens (or even more so a WOMAN at that time) go onto owning at one point (and sadly loosing) a huge chunk of Montauk.  My Father response was that she did not know the meaning of NO.  Her attitude was I’LL TRY rather than I CAN’T.

One of my favorite memories was when I was 10 years old (sadly also the year that she died).  It was to be her last summer at the hotel.  She always threw elaborate parties and my Sister and I would be put to bed and instructed NOT to come up to her house.

I wasn’t the strongest of listeners and I snuck up to they party anyway (which sat high above the hotel) and hid under a cocktail table while the smell of cigarettes, salt air and wine filled with room.  The room was filled with a mixture of people Lucille had collected or perhaps they had collected her.   She loved mixing people from all walks of life, to her that was the most essential component to a successful party.

There were fishermen clinking drinks with politicians, artists breaking bread with carpenters, a Bishop taking with a police detective.   And there She sat in the center of it all breathing in a life that most could only dream of.  She was playing the piano and singing and her guests were cheering her on.  Halfway through her song she spotted my peeking out from under the tablecloth and instead of ratting me out to my parents who were there too enjoying the frivolity, she kept singing and gave me a wink.

It’s amazing how much a simple moment can affect your life.  It was then and remains now how much I enjoy peeking into the party and watching guests having fun.  Looking out  from behind the scenes and seeing people smiling and enjoying themselves is when I truly am at my happiest.  It makes all those panic moments like the Chef’s not in the kitchen or the weekends you sometimes have to give up wash right away.

I couldn’t help but feel a little Lucille sparkle last Saturday afternoon.  For had she been able to see what “her” Montauk had become and the incredible party I was working on, I would have most definitely gotten a wink.

And perhaps, I may always be that small girl under the cocktail table looking in.  But if the view stays this amazing, the parties continue and the clients remain happy…….…..…..then I’ll be just fine.

Sometimes in the event world you get a perfect storm of events coupled with “interesting” weather. This week was certainly no exception for MGCE. I will use the word “interesting” to describe the 90+ degree days of pure sunshine and humidity we had to work with.

The intricacies that go into planning a rooftop event are so detailed it could make your head spin. No matter how many hours, days, weeks, months you spend planning and thinking about how to best execute an event, there will ALWAYS be hurdles to get over.  Try walking 3000 plus glasses up 4 flights of stairs in the heat, or effectively cooling your specialty cocktails and drinks for the evening without having all the ice melt before its time (NOTE all the cases of beer and drinks also came up the same flight of stairs).

BUT at the end of the day, after you motivated the guys carrying the glasses to keep pushing along, endured a sunburn that will last a few weeks, managed to build a kitchen on a rooftop and get power to the (6) fryers you need to make mini corndogs…AT THE END OF THE DAY when you stand back and watch how AMAZING the party is, how every person has a cool drink in their hand and the wait staff is still smiling there is nothing left to do but smile.  Of course it helps when Cee Lo Green takes the stage and gets an already pumped up crowed all singing “Forget You”.

We were excited to be a part of the Hugo Boss Summer Party on their roof.  Everything was circus themed with the food taking center stage. Our stellar staff offered guests mini corn dogs, pretzel bites, mini sliders, french fries, jalapeño grilled cheese bites, an array of popcorn served in labeled bags, and of course cotton candy, snow cones, and fried zeppoles.

Even if it was a circus of a week, it was well worth it.  Check out more photos from one of our favorite photographers.