skinny girls & mayonnaise

Around mid-August of last year, I received an email from a young woman named Ella.

“I stumbled on your Skinny Girls and Mayo site and saw that you recently catered a fundraiser at The 1909 in Topanga,” she said. “It just so happens we are getting married at The 1909 next May, and I would love to talk to you.”

A heart-shaped tri tip for Tanner & Ella

She and her fiancé, Tanner, were having no luck finding a caterer they liked — they wanted something sophisticated and “foodie,” yet casual and relaxed. But all the leads they were getting in their price range were disappointing buffets.

I invited them over to talk. I’m not a caterer, I told them — I’m a chef. I sometimes do large gigs, but I tend to do them more like food “events” — sending out small tastes of interesting things, putting food on wooden planks, generally having fun. I don’t have catering equipment or staff. That, they assured me, was exactly what they wanted.

“You’d be introducing an element of danger into your wedding by hiring me,” I warned them.

I generally price myself rather expensively because I like to pick and choose what I do. But I really liked them. I told them I thought I could do something nice in their price range. We agreed, shook hands (I did hug the lovely Ella) and it was on.

Me and my team at the oven

So next came the planning of the menu. The good news was, we had nine months until showtime. Their initial ideas included hummus or perhaps stuffed grape leaves in honor of Tanner’s Middle Eastern heritage, pizzas from the wood-burning oven, two salad options and three pastas “with a variety of sauces and meatballs.” But according to Ella, they were open to whatever we could do on their budget.

Over the coming weeks and months, the menu evolved: there would a cheese and charcuterie table and passed appetizers for the cocktail hour. We moved the pizzas from dinner to the cocktail segment, so we could clear room at dinner for Tuscan-style grilled tri tips, planked salmon with garlic and Spanish spices, finger Caesar salads and a pasta with fennel and white beans.

Cheese and charcuterie

Tanner (and Ella, now) is a Boyajian. I had a friend in high school who was a Boyajian — Paul, who died recently. Boyajian is a common Armenian name. And though Tanner does not look it, he is of Armenian descent. So rather than hummus or grape leaves, I decided to make a basturma, which I would serve as an appetizer — cut thick and rustic, like Iberico jamon, set atop bruschetta.

My friend, Dan Edens, who is also of Armenian descent on his mother’s side, introduced me to this Armenian cured meat — think of an Italian bresaola coated with eastern spices. I did some research, bought a beef loin, large quantities of paprika and fenugreek, and began curing the basturma a full six weeks before the event, checking on it regularly like a doting Armenian mother.

The basturma, sliced and ready

It seemed as if the wedding would never come. But then it did. The week before, I fielded calls from Jeanette the Wedding Planner, tried to secure commitments from noncommittal potential servers, shopped frantically and filled friends’ freezers with meat (not a caterer, remember…) And then it was the day. I hadn’t slept well the night before, making sure I had every angle and potential pitfall covered so that 160 people — and most importantly the bride and groom — would be happy and well fed. Yes, I had done large events before, but this was someone’s wedding — the stakes were high. And I never before had to hit such specific marks:

Jeanette: “Guests will begin arriving at 3:30. Ceremony will begin at 4, you can set the cheese table up discreetly while the ceremony is taking place. Cocktail and appetizer hour will be 4:30 to 5:30, then guests will sit for dinner. At 7, we will go upstairs for dancing.”

How could anything go wrong with these two guys helping? #heroes.

5:30 a.m. I was awake, chopping garlic, butterflying tri tips, shaping pizza doughs and boiling water.

I had planned to be at the venue at 2 p.m. for the 4 p.m. wedding start time. It was nearly 3, my phone was ringing off the hook with Jeaneatte’s number, and I was still cooking. And then in my haste, I cut the tip of my thumb off.

“I’m f%@#ed,” I said to myself.

A few minutes and a pile of bandage wrappers scattered across the bathroom counter later, I was in the car: halfway to the venue, forgot my cutting boards and the flour for the pizzas. Turn around, add 10 minutes to my lateness. Guests were already arriving when I got there, and I tried to be discreet backing up to the door and carrying in my trays of tri tip and bags of salmon.

I saw Tanner milling about, looking nervous. “Hey Sean,” he said, hugging me. “How did the basturma turn out?” I assured him it was excellent. “Usually when I’m nervous I can’t eat. But I’m so excited for that basturma!” 

Bobby Mahaffey assessing the napkin situation

Pre-preparations were going smoothly. But Jeanette had a surprise for me:

“Did you bring any napkins!?” she asked hopefully.

My face went blank. I was not supposed to bring any. I was told it was handled.

“I was told that too, but there are no napkins!” She looked dejected.

“Do you want me to send someone to get some?” I offered, and her face immediately brightened. Not that I had a lot of extra staff and time to spare… But as it turned out, we were able to get the napkins there without sacrificing people or time.

Wedding ceremony, voyeur’s perspective

I took a moment from my frenetic runnings about to watch the ceremony from a distance. The wedding party descended the outdoor amphitheater to an instrumental version of Edward Sharpe & the Magnetic Zero’s “Home.” Then, in one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen, Ella appeared on the hill, and walked herself down to Bob Dylan and Johnny Cash singing “Girl from the North Country.” Pal Bob pointed out, in a bit of cosmic symmetry, that it was in fact Bob Dylan’s birthday.

An announcement for cocktail hour meant showtime for us. I left the upstairs kitchen, bruschetta and basturma in pal Peri’s able hands while I went down to the oven. The pizzas were gone before they reached the second tier of revelers, and we strategized ways to bypass the handful of determined pizza hawks and get some to the wedding’s other hundred and fifty or so guests.

Ascending from the oven to the kitchen upstairs to grab something, I found Tanner and Ella alone, laughing together on a back patio. An excellent sign. I gave them hugs and congratulated them, they thanked me for everything and complimented me on the basturma. All that was left was dinner.

Tanner & Ella

At some point during the dinner service, the groom’s father came to talk to me. He was a large, jovial man with a silver goatee and a half finished bottle of bourbon. He thanked and congratulated me, I thanked and congratulated him. I told him I would shake his hand, but mine was caked with flour, tomato sauce and salmon oil.

“I’m good with that,” he said, holding out his hand.

By 6:40, we were done. Everyone was happy and fed, retiring ahead of schedule to the upstairs for dancing, complimenting us as they passed by. Jeanette looked relieved. Don Schneider collected a couple unfinished wine bottles and we poured ourselves glasses — a toast to Tanner and Ella, and a toast to our own success. And then the bride and groom dropped by the oven. Ella hugged every one of my staff.

“Is there any of that basturma leftover?” Tanner asked.

Fortunately there was — a whole bunch, in fact — an appropriate gift from a non-caterer to help send his clients on their way out into the world properly.

*    *    *

Heart-shaped Tuscan tri tip
serves 6 – 8

2-3 lb. tri-tip, trimmed
1 tbsp. garlic powder
1 tbsp. salt
1 tsp. freshly ground pepper
2 large garlic cloves, grated or finely chopped
1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil
Malden sea salt

I can’t guarantee your tri tip will look like a heart. But if you buy the right shape — roughly like a teardrop or rounded triangle — it should. About 10 of the 15 I cooked were heart-shaped. (Not that it mattered, since I served them sliced off the board.)

Carefully butterfly out the tri tip. Cut through the thick wide end, slicing lengthwise down toward the thin end, leaving about 1 inch on the opposite side uncut. Open the tri tip and flatten it out into one large piece of steak.

Sprinkle with 1/2 tbsp. salt, wrap with several layers of paper towels and place in the fridge for at least 4 hours and up to overnight.

Heat a grill to high flame. Combine garlic powder, 1/2 tbsp. salt and ground pepper, and sprinkle all over tri tip. Place on the grill.

While the tri tip is cooking, spread garlic over a large cutting board. Drizzle olive oil over garlic, and sprinkle with Maldon salt.

Cook tri tip about 3-4 minutes per side, until desired doneness. (Watch for fire flare ups.) Remove from heat and place on oiled cutting board. Slice across the grain into 1/2-inch slices, sluice with the cutting board juices, oil and garlic, and serve.