Special Occasions Made all the More Special by Problems with the Food Many years ago, I went to the home of some Jewish friends to celebrate one of the Jewish holidays (can't remember which one). They served borscht, which I had never had before. I was a sheltered teenager being confronted with this soup the color of a Pucci acid-trip pantsuit, and I just could not bring myself to even try it. I kept thinking that generally speaking, soup was not designed to be that color. Even the name sounded horrible--"borscht." I remember when they said it was a Russian dish, I thought, "Is that the Russian word for 'vomit'?" I was throwing a wedding shower for one of my very best friends. We discussed things, and decided it would be fun to have a "desserts only" shower, sort of like a tea. So I made, from scratch, something like six or eight gorgeous desserts. I put a really fine antique linen tablecloth on the table, splurged on a big bouquet of flowers, and got out my good embroidered napkins. Everything looked gorgeous after I had arranged the desserts becomingly on the beautifully set table. In come the first guests, one of whom is bearing, like a trophy, a garish red plastic tray. It is the kind with little divided compartments. In these compartments are a) Cheez Doodles and b) Fig Newtons. She says loudly, "Where should I put my dessert?" Somehow, she had the impression that this horrible-looking tray was going on my beautiful table. Somehow, she also had the impression that a combination of Cheez Doodles and Fig Newtons equals a dessert. "Here, I'll take that for you!" I said brightly, bearing the whole atrocity into the kitchen, where I stashed it on top of the fridge so I could discreetly dispose of it later. After the games and gift-opening portion of the shower ends, I announce that dessert is served. The same loud tomato who showed up with the Cheez Doodles and Fig Newtons gets to the table and says, "Hey! Where's my dessert?" I have to slink into the kitchen and come back with the red plastic tray. I never! My favorite story is about my mom. She had some ladies over for card club and decided to serve her famous "slush drink" which has fruit juices and, I think, rum. You freeze it and scoop it out and add gingerale. One of the ladies was enjoying hers when she discovered my mother had flavored it with corn! Turns out she had accidentally used the frozen vegetable soup. We were guests at a friend's wedding many years ago. The wedding reception was in a very dimly lit banquet hall -- I think they had only candles and no electric lights at all. Very romantic. The food was roast beef, mashed potatoes, etc. -- the typical, traditional American wedding feast. Waiters came around with the platters and served you directly. One waiter got to me and plopped about two teaspoons of mashed potatoes on my plate. "May I have some more, please?" I said, thinking that this was a tiny, tiny amount of potatoes. He obligingly put another little bit of potatoes on my plate so that now I had perhaps two tablespoons. "More, please!" I said firmly. He hesitated. "Please!" I said. He gave me another tiny amount, and I said, "Look, I'd really like some more." When he was done, I had perhaps 1/3 cup of mashed potatoes on my plate, but by then, it had gotten really embarrassing and I was ready to give up. Imagine my surprise when I took a big spoonful and my eyes watered like crazy -- turns out that he was the waiter with the horseradish, not the mashed potatoes. BACK TO MAIN DISASTER STORIES PAGE Catherine S. Vodrey is available for freelance writing, editing, fundraising/development, and photography projects at: Post Office Box 835 East Liverpool, Ohio 43920 USA E-MAIL: WordBanquet@gmail.com Thank you for visiting www.WordBanquet.com!