Third boxcar, midnight train
Destination...Bangor, Maine.
Old worn out suits and shoes,
I don't pay no union dues,
I smoke old stogies I have found
Short, but not too big around
I'm a man of means by no means
King of the road.
The song, King of the Road was written and recorded by Roger Miller in 1964. Always one of my favorite songs, it tells the story of a hobo (which stands for "homeward bound" by the way) who despite being poor and down on his luck, considers himself "King of the Road". Perhaps it was the jaunty tune rolling around in his head.
And then I got on a train. Not your average train, mind you and not as a passenger. I was hired by a railroad to cook a meal and a half for a just-married couple on the way to their honeymoon in Montreal. The vintage car is an observation with a rear, open deck, which offered an incredible view of Lake Champlain on an Indian Summer afternoon.
Since then, I've catered a sit-down dinner for 50 guests on what we call a "slow-moving" train and just last week we entertained about 50 guests for a "quick" cocktail party.
This party was called quick because the trip itself lasted only about 1 hour between boarding in Port Jersey City and arriving in Staten Island. The only quick thing about prep for this party was that we had only two weeks for planning minus 4 days for Easter weekend. The heat was on!
We had a total crew of 7 staff. We left our neighborhood at about 2pm for our hour trip to the yard or track where the train was parked. We loaded the cars and got busy for our guests' arrival at 6. They actually began boarding at about 5:15 but I had built time into the schedule and we still just kept rolling along with our plans.
Besides planning, the real stress comes from the logistics of a train party. There is no room for storage. All of the equipment items that I had brought earlier in the week were in one lumpy spot and that mountain was growing with the carload of food and ice we brought with us. All items must be stowed, out of view, yet in a place where they can be accessed.
Our hors d'oeuvres are all made from scratch. We served Arancini with Pomodoro Sauce (risotto Parmesan bites), Miniature Crab Cakes with Wasabi Cream, Miniature Beef Wellington, Spanikopita, Indonesian Shrimp Pancakes, Crudite, Cheese and Fruit, Cheesecake Lollipops, Assorted homemade cookies and Chocolate Covered Strawberries.
Since I am accustomed to the idea of riding the rails, I forget how glamorous the idea is until other people remind me. After a successful ride it usually hits me. The effort my staff and I went to, the amazing system we've developed that we would be sunk without and the fact that we go where the universe takes us. For me, that is to the ports and terminals to feel the wind in my hair.
Oven space is short. Counter space is almost non-existent. My usual galley (there were 3 cars on this trip, I worked from the most accessible and sensible kitchen which also happens to be my favorite) measures about 3 feet wide by about 5 feet long. Water on a train is not potable. Bring your own. Catering on a train is really hard and I'm a girl of means by no means at all, but I feel like I'm King of the Road.
Third boxcar, midnight train
Destination...Bangor, Maine.
Old worn out suits and shoes,
I don't pay no union dues,
I smoke old stogies I have found
Short, but not too big around
I'm a man of means by no means
King of the road.
The song, King of the Road was written and recorded by Roger Miller in 1964. Always one of my favorite songs, it tells the story of a hobo (which stands for "homeward bound" by the way) who despite being poor and down on his luck, considers himself "King of the Road". Perhaps it was the jaunty tune rolling around in his head.
And then I got on a train. Not your average train, mind you and not as a passenger. I was hired by a railroad to cook a meal and a half for a just-married couple on the way to their honeymoon in Montreal. The vintage car is an observation with a rear, open deck, which offered an incredible view of Lake Champlain on an Indian Summer afternoon. 
Since then, I've catered a sit-down dinner for 50 guests on what we call a "slow-moving" train and just last week we entertained about 50 guests for a "quick" cocktail party.
This party was called quick because the trip itself lasted only about 1 hour between boarding in Port Jersey City and arriving in Staten Island. The only quick thing about prep for this party was that we had only two weeks for planning minus 4 days for Easter weekend. The heat was on!
We had a total crew of 7 staff. We left our neighborhood at about 2pm for our hour trip to the yard or track where the train was parked. We loaded the cars and got busy for our guests' arrival at 6. They actually began boarding at about 5:15 but I had built time into the schedule and we still just kept rolling along with our plans.
Besides planning, the real stress comes from the logistics of a train party. There is no room for storage. All of the equipment items that I had brought earlier in the week were in one lumpy spot and that mountain was growing with the carload of food and ice we brought with us. All items must be stowed, out of view, yet in a place where they can be accessed.
Our hors d'oeuvres are all made from scratch. We served Arancini with Pomodoro Sauce (risotto Parmesan bites), Miniature Crab Cakes with Wasabi Cream, Miniature Beef Wellington, Spanikopita, Indonesian Shrimp Pancakes, Crudite, Cheese and Fruit, Cheesecake Lollipops, Assorted homemade cookies and Chocolate Covered Strawberries.
Since I am accustomed to the idea of riding the rails, I forget how glamorous the idea is until other people remind me. After a successful ride it usually hits me. The effort my staff and I went to, the amazing system we've developed that we would be sunk without and the fact that we go where the universe takes us. For me, that is to the ports and terminals to feel the wind in my hair.
Oven space is short. Counter space is almost non-existent. My usual galley (there were 3 cars on this trip, I worked from the most accessible and sensible kitchen which also happens to be my favorite) measures about 3 feet wide by about 5 feet long. Water on a train is not potable. Bring your own. Catering on a train is really hard and I'm a girl of means by no means at all, but I feel like I'm King of the Road.
