Saturday was quite a night. We were pretty much out of our semifreddo dessert at the start of the night. Basically, the item was the dessert for a private party and we only had enough to accommodate the party. We had to make a substitution on the main dining room's tasting menu, which is very poor form for such an upscale restauarant. This really pissed off Chef. When Chef gets made (and throws a roll of masking tape) you resort to the techniques you used as a child when one of your parents gets really angry about something that doesn't involve you. You keep quiet and you hope to stay well out of the way.

After Chef threw the tape and left the room, I picked it up and put it away. Later I noticed she was looking around in the area where she threw the tape. I wasn't certain she was looking for the tape, though, so I never told her I picked it up. I hoped she figured it out without me having to speak up.

Just as I thought things were about to settle down after the semifreddo disaster, I hear Chef scream some expletives from our walk-in refrigerator. Apparently our poached quince are 22 days old. Did I mention that it was Chef's birthday? She was so pissed she even said to herself, "Happy fucking birthday to me."

She ended up being cranky for most of the night. She didn't really take anything out on me, except for a few minor comments. Other than running out of a dessert, things went rather smoothly.