trees. Then, the Abbey Rental trucks would arrive to set up white canvas tents and
white tables and chairs. The catering staff would arrive early, laying out linens on the
tables and added centerpieces of flowers and candles. They’d organize a dozen or more
over-sized chrome (to look like silver) serving trays and prepare the chafing dishes with
Sterno cans to keep hot food hot.
Once the guests started to arrive, the uniformed staff would pass around tiny hors
d’oeuvres, each one more eye-appealing than the others. Then came the carved roast beef,
shrimp, lobster, and sliced chicken breast with a special fruited sauce to use with pilaf.
There was always an array of fresh vegetables, fruit, cheeses and desserts. Although the
buffet table groaned with the extensive menu, the portions guests served themselves were
small so they could sample a little of everything. However, in those days, calories and
diets were not a subject in conversations.
My siblings and I were not allowed in the kitchen on party days, not even as teenagers.
“It’s off limits after four o’clock, Carol. You know that by now.” My mother would
scowl at me as I headed for the dessert trays for fear I’d eat too many and she’d not have
enough for guests. She knew full well about my “weakness” for sweets, as she had
willingly contributed to it.
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