Last week B and I cooked and served again for a benevolent organization in town. The same four people came with us from work, and then hours later 30 more coworkers joined us to serve the 480 people that came hungry that night. 101 children came through the line and many of us (this was the heartbreaking part) recognized the same children from last time. It really humbles you.
We cooked chicken with garlic cream sauce, bowtie pasta with herbs, steamed vegetables, garlic bread, and sherbet. And when I say we cooked it, I mean it - we cooked it. Almost nothing is packaged; it is made by hand. Our hands.
We arrived and got 400+ chicken breasts in the oven. Boiled the pasta. Oiled a thousand pans.
Then Steve [helpful benevolent organization manager who remembers me from the last few times] identifies me as the one who is in charge of the garlic cream sauce. B and I added frozen chips of garlic and cream into an enormous glycol boiler, at which point I may have lost my balance and flung a handful of garlic chips onto the stainless backplate. At which point B totally jumped back and pointed at me. Stinker.
Once melted, it had to be thickened with roux. B got that job.
Time to stir the 10 GALLONS of garlic cream sauce.
Steve handed me a paddle and (remembering that B and I come as a set) pointed to B's behind. Very funny moment. B pretended he didn't hear and proceeded to help our friends strain the bowtie pasta. Stinker.
B was also in charge of garlic bread. That assignment came back to haunt him later. And I love that I caught the exact same shot as last time, just peeking at his stewardliness through the spice rack.
Almost 500 pieces of bread were loaded onto trays, slathered and then?
Oh yeah. There they are. Grilling each piece. It took almost an hour. Flipping garlic bread. And the garlic fumes were going to their heads, too. They started dreaming about opening a hibachi grill with guitar music, or something. B2 Hibachi Guitar Bar, I think.
And also, they became hot and sweaty and stinky like garlic. I, too, smelled like garlic for quite some time. My bra smelled like garlic AFTER I washed it. Just sayin'.
I bet you're wondering who our friend is... I give you IT Jesus.
I realize we were giving and stewarding and such, but the Jesus pose was popular that night. Here is Homeboy Jesus.
...who later helped me clean that grill we used...
...before we sat through devotional, left holding hands, and went to have chicken wings for dinner. Because that's how we roll.