You’re Canapé For That

I hate events that involve canapés. As a person whose job sometimes involves being around them, I’m often very uncomfortable.

This week I had to work at a few events involving waiters with pointlessly little bits of weird food on trays, and I had to pretend to have a professional opinion. It’s never a good thing when people want me to have any opinion, let alone a professional one.

The kitchen was a hive of activity. The event manager was stressed, the waiters were stressed, the guests expected a high-quality service of high quality fare. The first thing I did was giggle when a nice man offered me one of his salted caramel balls. That nice man looked at me weirdly.

Shortly afterwards I was given a piece of tuna on a stick. On closer inspection the stick wasn’t stick, it was a pipette. The pipette was full of stuff, and I was required to do things with it. I’m not 100% sure what the stuff in the pipette was, because I had a minor stress blackout at that point. Some kind of sauce. And the sauce had to be squeezed into the seafood.

A tuna - lets just shove a piping bag up its arse and call it a full meal.

A tuna – lets just shove a piping bag up its arse and call it a full meal.

I grabbed the tuna with my bare fingers, and squeezed. Sauce went literally everywhere. I saw the waiter’s eyes twitch when it splattered all over his shoes, but he just smiled patiently, and wearily told me that ‘you were supposed to squeeze the sauce once it was in your mouth’. Now there’s a chat up line and a half.

It’s a weird day when you realise that people probably think you were badly brought up because you don’t know how to eat a lump of fish off of a piece of lab equipment.

On the way out of the kitchen I was offered a waiter’s last salted caramel ball. I giggled.

Nobody looked surprised any more.

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