This week we see Clive the chef come out of his comfort zone, Janine take pictures of raw veg; and the morning after a party the night before. Gordon invents the soup sandwich!
To put you all in the picture, the Saturday night saw Clive, Janine, my gorgeous hubby Duncan and Saty the amazing van driver present a three course meal to nearly 100 people. This was to publicise the work of Cook-Inn, and there are reviews now on our official website (Yay)! Clive brought the food and we chopped, spread and otherwise prepared a ton of nice grub for the SDA Church congregation at Granton. Soup, a choice of main courses and some neat cakes for dessert saw us running round replenishing dishes, pouring drinks and then facing a…mountain…of washing up.
Folk from the church came to help, but it was a small kitchen and most of the stuff wouldn’t fit in the dishwasher. In short, by the time we dropped Clive and his pots off at the end of the night my legs were made of lead. I stumbled in, fed hungry cats and flopped down into my bed. To my surprise as I awoke the following morning, my elderly-confused cat, the incredibly cute ‘Howling Mad’ Romany (I hope the copyright’s up on that), was quiet all night! No 1am thumps; no 3am howls. I slept until 7am; one whole hour more than I ever get on a week day. Out of bed I shot, and into the dark grey light of morning.
Gordon, our stalwart fellow founder, proved his genius by inventing the soup sandwich last time the food team met. Thinking he’d done his bit this week, I texted him to stay longer in bed. Morrison’s loomed on my horizon, while Duncan explained why the satnav believed erroneously that the store was on my right. Something about an ATM from so long ago, it’s no longer there. Time to update the gadgets, I guess. Gorgeous Gillian was there, and she had a huge bounty for us. Lots of fruit and what I believe science might refer to as a shedload of carrots. Nevertheless, Duncan shot a trolley round the shop so people could have spuds, cabbages and other staples. Nice guy, Duncan. I texted Clive pictures as he requested; you might see here the pile at the checkout and the charming helper at the till. Sorry I missed your name; your badge was below the counter top! My bad. Also here might be a pic of Gillian and I, taken in spite of her excessive modesty. And Duncan at the Hollies, embracing the concept of the mountain of new grub!
Four volunteers texted that lunchtime, saying that they wouldn’t make it. I came to apologise to our poor chef, who put a brave face on it. “We are the A Team” he said with a grin (really bashing that copyright now). “We will prevail”. With soup and fresh-made rolls to make, he didn’t have time to elaborate. He was still smiling as our lunch was served, making us grin as well. There was even a separate soup for me, being the allergic one. Carrot soup of course….
Deliveries had to be made with just one car, as Saty had a prior commitment. With literally nobody to go with Duncan after he dropped me off for the big Musselburgh run, Clive volunteered to be second man. We quickly cleaned up the Hollies kitchen, and were away. Clive and Duncan to Pilton, Restalrig and Prestonpans; Me to call Adele and see if Gordon was up for an invasion.
I piled the delivery bags in Gordon’s hall and texted Adele that I had arrived. We busied ourselves for half an hour trying to fix Gordon’s liquidiser. Calling for a screwdriver, I undid the plug and tried a new fuse (with thanks to my old teacher, Ms Rayment; a lady who said girls need to find their way round a plug). … No dice. Gordon tried different sockets, leading to a similarly disappointing result. Adele arrived, twiddled three knobs and had it working in no time! When quizzed about it she denied all knowledge of her magical abilities.
Two new people were added to this huge run today, and due to the cheapness of the replacement soup containers, hastily bought this morning at the nearest shop (people; please give them back – we pay for them ourselves) by the time we were at the last door, soup was all over the esky. Adele, who had forgotten her gloves, remarked that at least it kept her hands warm. All delivered, we went for a cuppa to await the lads.
Clive and Duncan emerged out of the darkness victorious, just as I was making headway on a cup of herbal tea in Adele’s lounge. They repaid her genius of earlier on by helping her puzzle out her new fan oven (a scary bit of tech). Then off home to see how ‘HM’ Romany and his younger brother had survived the day. I’ll text Clive his picture, so you can see why he’s worth all the midnight howling.
Keep warm, all; please text me on 07531 436 389 to volunteer, refer or donate.