And here’s how to make the bestest cucumber sandwich that you ever wrapped your lips around. First, start with the bread. Now I know that some people (or maybe even most) like really soft, fluffy bread, but to me that sort of thing is a complete waste of calories. If I have to stuff my face with something that contains a large amount of calories per square inch, then I want it to be good. No, not just good, outstanding! Therefore I make my own bread. Okay, I’m not saying I’m the best baker that ever pummelled a ball of dough, but what I make beats anything I’ve ever bought in a KL shop by a very long stretch. I’ve loaded two basic bread recipes into the recipe folder (on your right), so if you’re mad enough, make a few loaves. If not, try and find something with a little density to it, for God’s sake.

You would think that doing a thousand canapés when you’re eighteen would forever cure you of the fiddly little things, but that is not the case. I admit that while I sit here writing this, my team are finishing the remainder of 1,200 of them, but I DID slice 200 slices of bread and spread cream cheese mix on the slices. The fact of the matter is, I still like them. A lot. We have a large list of canapés at Frangi and at almost every function we do, we add a new one to that list. There is, believe it or not, a fashion in canapés. A few years ago, the spoons were all the rage, but now, we are slowly returning to bread. In fact I am actively promoting the humble finger sandwich.

The finger sandwich has been unjustly maligned and I think I know why! A few weeks ago I went to Cameron Highlands and of course did the cheesy thing and had scones at Ye Olde Smoke House, or whatever its unlikely name is. Cucumber sandwiches featured on the menu at a rather whopping price (in fact, the same amount will buy you ten cucumber sandwich canapés at Frangi. With prawns in the middle!), but I just had to have them. I imagined a dainty, preferably flower rimmed porcelain plate arriving holding four just double bite sized, pale English sndwchs (that’s the royal pronunciation) with a hint of green in the middle. I would bite into them and find the butter just slightly salted, the bread nice and dense (meaning NOT Gardenia) and the slices of cucumber a bland crunch. Rude was the awakening, I can tell you!

компютри втора употребаPlonked in front of us (by a very nice waitress, it has to be said) was a rough earthenware plate bearing two halves of the dreaded Gardenia, crust ON!!! and next to it was a SALAD!!! and CHIPS!!!!!! CRINKLE CUT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! All that was once good in mankind had been dragged through the Planta mire that glued that abominable sandwich together. As they brought the bottles of Ketchup and Chilli Sauce, I threw a handful of shekels at the sinister, smiling management, dashing into the open air to violently throw up into the adjacent golf course. Ye Olde Smoke House has been desecrated and I swear I shall never darken their towels again.

Which brings us back to the cucumber sandwiches. I’ll give you the recipe for The World’s Best Cucumber Sandwiches in the next blog.

I’m sitting in the kitchen, quietly contemplating tonight’s dinner for a hundred and thirty people. It’s a grand affair, the restaurant has been transformed into a golden cave, complete with Brazilian band, mirror balls and dance floor in the pond. The menu however is quite simple, as the emphasis is on party, not dining. Still, cooking for that many people is always a challenge. You may not know this, but banquet kitchens in hotels work in a completely different manner from us free standing operations. They pre-cook everything, including your fish, steak, chicken, vegetables, arrange it ready on plates then flash chill the thing and hold it. At the point of service, the whole rack with neatly stacked plates is wheeled into a special reheating oven and out come the plates, ready to be garnished, sauced and sent out. It’s an amazing system. Unfortunately, its a system we poor little restaurants cannot afford and so we have to make everything a la minute. The results, it has to be said, are superior, but getting there is highly stressful.

Tonight we have an hour to get the dinner done. About twenty minutes per course is just nice, so this is a very reasonable request. Still, it means sending out 390 plates in 60 minutes or 6.5 plates every single minute of that hour. I better not think about this, I’m starting to scare myself. Evidently, I’m not alone in the kitchen and my team are very experienced and quite used to this sort of event, so having finished all the mise en place, they are larking about, wanting an early break.

A little hour later and we’re back in the kitchen getting 300 canapes ready. This is not a large amount and we’re happy with the timing so far. Now we must start setting out the first plates and checking back whether the guests are all on time (not likely). If we start too early the first course will be cold. Then there’s the matter of choice of mains. It will take us 20 minutes to get all the mains onto the plates, but it will take an additional 10 to salt, pepper and prepare mains, so normally we like to build in a second starter as buffer to allow us to take the orders. We don’t have that today, we’re straight from starter to mains, so we have to wing it a bit. We’re guessing the mains orders and will start preparing a bit short of total, meaning we will simply make 30 of each main and then add on the rest as the order comes in. Hopefully we will be able to get this done by the time the last of the 90 plates is out. We’ll see..

After that, we’re home free. Dessert is easier as it can be plated and kept waiting without damage. The gong’s going and we’re off. Keep fingers crossed and we’ll be cleaning up in an hour and a half.