Taking a bite out (featuring Mini Edamame Avocado Handrolls)

Loamy soil pressed into colorful flowerpots on the small deck of the bride-to-be’s home was starting to rupture with tiny green buds. Spring was unintentionally inspiring me like it always does. Or maybe it was the couple I just met.

They shared the bench at her picnic table, where two plates, napkins, and printed menus were set. From the kitchen, I brought small platters of prospective wedding lunch bites and then stood before them describing each dish.

“These are little phyllo parcels filled with wild mushrooms, leeks, aged gruyere cheese, and fresh thyme,” I said, flicking my hand open above the platter like Vanna White revealing the appetizer prize. “These are gluten-free Parmesan crisps topped with an heirloom tomato, corn, and basil salad. These are great now, but will be a million times better by your big day in late July when the tomatoes are really popping.”

They ooohed and ahhhed, devouring the bites.

Luckily, I don’t get asked to cook a lot of pre-party food tastings. They are a loss leader for me, and a pricy time-suck for clients, so I’m grateful that most people trust the numerous client testimonials on my Google and Yelp listings.

Of course, for weddings it’s a little different. The tidal flow of pressure for couples to represent their connection through food, music, and linens can grow as powerful as a tsunami. I’m not staffed or kitchened for the really big parties, so I often have a valid excuse, but the truth is I’m not interested in the drama of wedding catering.

This wedding felt different to me. They weren’t a cutesy couple proving their love to the prospective caterer by booping each other’s noses or giggling about their upcoming nuptials (oh, the people I’ve met). They were adults, talking openly about the process as they sussed me out. These budding flowers were perennials, much like me, with achievable expectations.

It would be a daytime wedding with a buffeted variety of finger food, my favorite kind of party to cater. For all the little complaints and fears I have about my job, there’s nothing better than knowing I can do it well. We talked about estimates for food, rentals, staffing, and sketched out a timeline for the big day.

“Oh, and what about tipping?” the bride asked, as they walked me out.

I smiled warmly, grateful for the question.

“I don’t add gratuity automatically because I think tips should be based on quality of service, but I also know that my team is the best in town and they deserve a generous gratuity. What you tip is up to you. Thanks for asking. I know a lot of people are confused about it and are too shy to ask.”

We felt like old friends at that moment, grinning and thanking each other in the doorway. I was so excited to live up to the promises I had made.

And.

I.

Did.

We all did.

My team went above and beyond to provide an unforgettable day of food and service. A few guests even came back into the kitchen to praise us. The bride and groom went on and on about how happy they were.

I had started cooking at 3:00 am that morning, and by the end of the event, I was delirious with pride and exhaustion. At 7:00 that night, after seeing a Venmo payment notification on my phone, I crawled into bed with a heaping bowl of pasta that my husband had made and turned my brain off.

The next morning, I was sitting on my couch, slurping milky sweet coffee in my day-after-a-big-gig-recovery-jammies, and I opened the Venmo transaction. It was paid in full without gratuity.

Hmph.

My post-gig emotional bandwidth is like a nasty hangover after going on a bender. I’m frequently sensitive, debilitated, and histrionic. That’s on a good day, which this suddenly was not.

NO TIP!!! I was flooded with feelings.

Guilt was the first to land, because I had told my staff they could expect a tip when the client said it was coming. They make an hourly wage from me, but without gratuity, they make less working for me than they do working in a restaurant.

Then came anger, not at the client so much as the perplexity of gratuities these days.

The rules that I made up for my business are that I never ever skim off of my team’s pay or tips (which a lot of caterers and restaurants do). I don’t charge people blindly for gratuity, and I don’t bring it up unless they do. Some people tip very generously, some people don’t tip at all, some people tip odd amounts that are probably a percentage of something on the bill, but I can’t figure out where the number came from. Some people tip me too, but I knew not to expect that this time. This wasn’t about me, because honestly, if this were a performance-based conversation about me, I could find a million things I did wrong. But this was about my team that worked their fingers to the bone.

Oh, screw it, I sent a text to the bride.

“Thank you so much for the opportunity to cater your beautiful wedding and for the payment in full. I see that you did not include the gratuity and wanted to double-check that the service was satisfactory.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I forgot.” She replied.

Which was probably an adjustment of truth, but also relatable. We’ve all done it. I know I have. You think about how expensive everything is, and you start to justify skipping the tip.

I know, for example, that this wedding couple had to pay an exorbitant fee to have an off-site caterer cook for their wedding. As in, hundreds more dollars than I’ve ever heard any venue charge. Plus, a coffee service charge from the venue that was just like setting fire to their cash. Plus the booze and the rental of the space and the glasses and dishes and silverware, and let’s not forget those linens. None of those were things my team had any involvement with, but I know it adds up in a person’s head. I’ve been there. I get it.

And then sometimes you start to tweak the experience you had into an unsatisfactory one. “Well,” you think, “my plate wasn’t picked up very quickly, and I didn’t get a water refill for what seemed like hours! I think they deserve a much smaller tip!”

I have had more than a few clients who told me they would send the tip later and never did.

My husband has said many times that if he got a bill from a caterer, it wouldn’t occur to him to add a gratuity on top. He gets feisty when I bring this issue up. And take it from me, if you’re at dinner with a bunch of friends, don’t mention the 20% tip nudge we all get from the kiosk when you’re picking up your own food or just grabbing a cup of coffee? Mayhem! Everyone feels like they’re being robbed.

On that morning of obsessive thinking, I stared at my phone, hoping for something to happen.

Nothing.

In a living room symphony called Anxiety and Malaise, my dog and I panted and sighed, sighed and panted, switching roles and positions throughout the afternoon. I felt rage and sympathy, compassion and dishonor, all for money that wasn’t even mine.

I was consumed by what has become a way for me to validate my performance.

Four days later…

My phone buzzed. It was from the bride. She sent a very generous tip. I almost fell over, I was so surprised.

People aren’t bad. Not most of ‘em anyway. We’re all in this together, trying to figure out how to play by the rules that are constantly changing.

I’m grateful to my clients for the opportunities they give me to examine life.

And to my team for working so hard on my little dream.

Here’s what I woke up at 3:00 in the morning to cook that day. These take a little time, but once you start rolling, you develop a rhythm that makes sense. These are vegan and gluten-free, but could be filled with sushi-grade tuna or salmon.

Mini Edamame Avocado Handrolls

Makes 28 rolls

Ingredients

Sushi Rice

• ¾ cup Calrose rice, cooked and still warm

• 2 tablespoons rice vinegar

• 2 tablespoons sugar

• 1 ½ teaspoons salt

Mix rice vinegar, sugar, and salt in a small bowl. Heat in microwave or on the stovetop for about 30 seconds or until the sugar is no longer visible. Toss the mixture with the warm rice and set it to the side.

Edamame Butter

• 1 cup shelled edamame

• ½ teaspoon salt

• 1 tablespoon olive oil

• ½ teaspoon MSG

Boil edamame for 4 minutes. Place cooked beans in a food processor and blend with salt, olive oil, and MSG until it’s a bright green paste- about 30 seconds, scraping down the sides.

Avocado Paste

• 1 avocado

• 2 teaspoons lemon juice

• 1 teaspoon olive oil

Smoosh the avocado together with the juice and the oil with a fork or mortar and pestle.

Seaweed sheets

• 7 sheets of nori

Cut sheets of nori into 4 pieces per sheet, measuring 5 ½ x 2 ½ inches.

• 1 Cucumber, cut in half and then into strips.

Fill a small bowl with water.

Place one nori sheet, laying horizontally in front of you on a clean board, shiny side up. Dip your fingers into the water and gently cover the nori with a light coating of water. Place about 1 1/2 teaspoons of sushi rice on the upper left corner and press it down flat. Using another spoon, place about a half teaspoon of edamame butter and then avocado butter on top of the sushi rice. Set a cucumber stick on top of the rice/ edamame/ avocado.

Starting from the lower left corner, fold the nori up like a flag for one fold to cover the rice mixture. Then roll the nori-covered rice mixture over the remaining nori to cover it completely.

Serve with soy sauce to dip.

And here’s a clip of me making these on KATU’s Afternoon Live.

Rolling on Afternoon Live