Tiny Hot Dogs by Mary Giuliani

Author:Mary Giuliani [GIULIANI, MARY]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Running Press
Published: 2019-04-09T00:00:00+00:00

Just Eat the Doritos

One of the arduous tasks this “caterer to the stars” must endure is fulfilling celebrity riders prior to an event. To be able to demand a rider is to have made it in such a large way that you can insist on what type of flower in what color you never want to be near, what type of fancy water (it’s always FIJI) must be available in abundance, and how many perfectly chilled martini glasses must be waiting in the freezer prior to your arrival.

But no matter how silly or frivolous these riders may be, I, the caterer, must meet these demands with perfect accuracy. No detail is to be missed, because if one Hostess CupCake is not offered in the preferred flavor, this could end my catering career, and the assistant who took her eye off the ball—or in this case, the cupcake—would certainly be toast. I can’t tell you how many rider “inspections” I have been forced to endure.

“We specifically said eighteen pieces of farm-raised salmon. I see twenty-three,” a twenty-something very hysterical assistant will hiss at me until I physically remove the five offending pieces of fish from the platter, the room, and sometimes even the building.

One thing about riders that bugs me the most is that, almost always, none of the items requested are ever actually consumed by the celebrity who supposedly requested them. I can’t tell you how many bags of Cool Ranch Doritos sat sealed shut, desperately waiting for Snoop Dogg to triumphantly tear them open or how many bottles of Red Bull (the second most requested rider beverage after FIJI Water) sat unopened and dejected, not to be the object of Jay-Z’s and Beyoncé’s desire. When I first started out in catering, I made zero dollars a week, but if you came to my small Christopher Street studio, I always had a fridge stocked with FIJI Water and more Jo Malone scented candles than I could give away over ten Christmases. This was great for me because I was always hydrated, and my place consistently smelled like Mariah Carey’s dressing room, but really, what a waste of money.

One of the most ridiculous riders I ever received stipulated that a most definitely A-list celebrity was allergic to wool, all aged cheeses, and certain types of shoe leather. Do you know how hard it is to ask all your waiters, to say nothing of every single party guest, if their shoes are made from real or fake leather? After spending the night frantically inspecting people’s feet and keeping my eye out for rogue wool, the actress who was deathly allergic to everything, once she had downed two martinis, was found eating from the cheese platter with a fork and knife, donning a wool hat, and smoking cigarettes all while sitting on a leather sofa! Who’s in the corner laughing at me, the caterer? Her assistant.

As much as I mock the rider, I hope to someday be so important that someone’s only job

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