Once when I was about 8, my Mom had a party for scores of people. I remember she made a lumpy brownish mound of something that she called pate. To my young eyes, it looked disgusting. But our agile schnauzer Jolie knew from good liver and, before anyone knew what was what, managed to gobble up a chunk of the stuff - along with half of the other hors d'oeuvres. Oh, the screams of discovery, the sweaty chase, an overturned chair or two, the dog being tossed out the door. All hell breaking loose - this is my association with cooking for many.
Why then, did I enter the Park Slope Food Coop's cook off which, net-net, means cooking for up to 200 people?
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