FOOD TRAFFIC CONTROLLER

It’s been years since I’ve had a nickname. Only one has endured beyond my childhood - it has sentimental value but not much else - and only a few close friends and family use it. So it came as a surprise when my pal Kitty spontaneously created the sobriquet that will stick with me for the rest of my life.

It happened during an August weekend at a vacation home in Saratoga. What had been intended to be a day at the races and a birthday celebration at a country club turned into a batten-down the-hatches extended slumber party thanks to Hurricane Irene. Despite the predicted twenty inches of rain and gale force winds, we had plenty of time to plan for provisions.  I made shopping lists and created menus.  I noted that the range had an electric starter and mandated that no one turn off one of the burners for fear we would lose power.  I asked my roommates to pre-cook and prepare as much as we could in descending order of importance for that night’s dinner. Peggy poached the scallops and the lobster. I did all the chopping and mincing since that required good lighting. I asked Alan, the only man in the house and thus the only one who would get his hair wet, to ensure that the Weber grill had plenty of propane. Kitty, observing all of this while dutifully washing dishes in hot water while we still had it, chuckled at the seriousness with which I assigned the tasks; she dubbed me the Food Traffic Controller.

Having “survived” the storm, we went to a local restaurant for lunch the following day. Overwhelmed with all the enticing options on the menu, I suggested we split several appetizers and divide a few mains. For wine I recommended that we each order a glass chardonnay followed by a bottle of California pinot noir. I was in the rhythm of ordering when Kitty quipped, “There she goes again, the Food Traffic Controller.”

I laughed aloud. Suddenly I could see myself as others have seen me for years:

Passionate about food - bossy, organized, and direct.  

The holidays are upon us. Thanksgiving is in a few weeks and a potluck dinner for twenty is being planned. Everyone is bringing their signature dish. Peggy is making the turkey, Kitty is baking the pies, and I am bringing the Food Traffic Controller.