The “Caviar Ritual”
While the passengers may have experienced a service in their restaurant that was seamless, there was in fact a great deal that went on behind the scenes. Most of us waiters would dread seeing the words “Beluga Malossol Caviar” on the 1st class or cruise dinner menus. The commis waiters dreaded it even more!
This was especially so if there was an 8-table involved, where the range of starters on the menu could very easily end up with 8 different choices. It would be a work-up needing quick planning to achieve uniform delivery to the table. Whether for waiter or commis, the “caviar ritual” was nevertheless, exactly the same.
Waiter's pad, part of the ‘chit’ system
In the early days it was a bit simpler, but as budgets on the expensive items got tighter over the years, a control system for these was put in place. This didn't really decrease the amount of caviar dispensed; it helped satisfy the “bean counters” ashore.
The Process Begins …
The system involved getting a “chit” for the number of caviar portions required. It would find its way to a dedicated nail on the Head Chef's station. Each was signed by the Restaurant Manager or a Head Waiter.
If either had taken the passengers’ orders, then that part was simple, you were handed the table order, along with the necessary chit. If not, then any passing commis waiter would do. The hushed tones of “Can you get me 2 portions of caviar, I don't have a chitty” would be received with perhaps a wry smile.
On the receiving end you would always detect the very clear hint of urgency in this request. Unlike claimed quotes from former waiters I've read elsewhere about the Caronia, the caviar was not quite “limitless”. As you can see, there were clear directives!
So, once armed with a signed chit, it would be off to the galley. Not just any part of the galley you understand, but eventually to the station of the Head Chef. I should emphasise that making your way directly to that point would be a very costly and time-consuming mistake! I speak from experience.
Exacting Standards
Presenting a meal to passengers on the Caronia which was worthy of the name, meant that you had to be very resourceful. There were time-honoured ways of doing things; so going directly to your destination, brandishing your chitty and piping up with “Caviar for two, Chef” was the surest way to get a look that would confirm you as his next ice-sculpture subject.
[Left:]
Large and small porcelain shell dishes
Your first call is to the silver room to collect an ice bowl. You need to pick one that's smart enough to match its intended purpose. Then it's off to the ice machine to fill it with freshly crushed ice, to the exact level to allow for the caviar portions to be buried within their ceramic container.
The cold pantry is your next port-of-call, along with a collected silver serving tray. This to gather capers, shredded egg and chopped onion accompaniments, all very precisely spooned onto porcelain shell dishes. Along the way, there'd also be triangles of brown bread and butter to make or collect.
Perfect Presentation
Now away to the Chef? Not so fast! It paid you to then take a few moments to very carefully arrange your presentation. Get any of that part wrong, including spilt ice or a wet or wonky doily below the ice bowl, and you'd be firmly told to go away and come back only when you'd done your “mise en place” correctly. Have I ever mentioned anything previously about paying attention to detail?
As a commis waiter, you didn't just have the Chef to satisfy; in the back of your mind you'd be conscious that there was a waiter, or potentially head waiter, anxiously awaiting your timely return. Your personal reputation depended upon you getting all this right!
Not a Game of Chance!
Looking back on it now, us lads may have thought that all this palaver was just a necessary evil. Also, there were probably some passengers who just wanted to try caviar on the off-chance, simply because the offer was there.
The whole point of this process was because there were several well-heeled gourmet passengers fully able to judge the quality and flavour of the caviar. Their expectation would be nothing less than an immaculate service in a similar fashion to that of any fine wine. For them, it became the Chef's reputation that was at stake!
As there was no reliable way of telling one from the other, nothing was left to chance. Again, to us they were “authority”, but the Head Waiters knew their job. They would be there to ensure that any complex first-course service, with caviar or not, was ever seamless.
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