The Four Seasons

The Four Seasons can conjure up visions of Vivaldi’s masterpiece, music that is beyond famous, or the names of places, among them the restaurant in New York City. When rummaging around in a flea market a couple of years ago, I found a copy of the cookbook from The Four Seasons Restaurant, and I just had to buy it, even though I am not a cook. This is a very large, attractive book, which one would probably call a coffee table book.

Many years ago, in the seventies, I worked at Calasanctius Preparatory School in Buffalo, a school for gifted children run by the Piarist Fathers. My children were students at the school, and I worked as Secretary to the Board of Trustees member in charge of finances, in exchange for my children’s tuition. Many of the priests affiliated with the school were Hungarians, and the Headmaster, Father Gerencser, was a very close friend of Paul Kovi, the Director of The Four Seasons Restaurant.

From time to time, the school held gourmet dinners and wine tastings as fund raisers. I was in charge of arrangements for these festive occasions, with duties including everything from maintaining the mailing list and sending notices to those who were most likely to attend, to being hostess at the door and gently reminding those who had not yet paid for their tickets. I made several long gowns for the hostess part of the job.

When Paul Kovi presented one of his gourmet dinners, I was involved in every tiny detail. Father Gerencser had a copy of the cookbook from the restaurant, and one of my jobs was to make copies of the menu and recipes for the cooks at the school, after the dinner was planned. The cooks would start preparations long before Paul arrived in Buffalo. I can not remember each item on the menu, but early in the dinner there was a small bird under glass, and the entrée was Rack of Lamb. I had remembered the large photo of Rack of Lamb in the cookbook for all these years.

Dessert was fabulous torte, prepared by Lenke, an older Hungarian woman who had an office of her own in the house that was used by the staff as an office building. Lenke had a pet squirrel that would come through her office window and sit on her desk eating nuts. He had a tail, ratty in appearance, which had been damaged when he was hit by a car.

The dining room at Calasanctius was in a new building behind the mansions that had been converted into a school, on the edge of Delaware Park in a very exclusive section of the City of Buffalo. It was a beautiful area, and the new building was tucked into the property so as not to be obtrusive, although it was rather large. There was a library near the dining room, and these sections of the building were rather imposing. The dining room was just that, not a cafeteria in appearance, but a carpeted area with proper furnishings, chandeliers, and batiks on the walls done by Father Gerencser’s sister in Hungary.

Betsy, the head cook for the school, was from Indonesia, and spoke Dutch. She was an exceptional cook, and had birthday parties for herself at her home, preparing all the food. I was a close enough friend to be invited to her parties for several years. She worked long hours preparing for the gourmet dinners, instructing her staff, and was in constant communication with Father Gerencser and Paul Kovi regarding the menu for this very special occasion.

Table settings for the gourmet dinners were very formal, of course. I think there were about ten wineglasses at each place setting, many pieces of flatware, and several pieces of dinnerware were used for each setting, also.

Ladies wore gowns, and the whole occasion was one of great festivity, a highlight of participating members’ social life. Luckily, I was able to attend these dinners and partake of the meal after greeting everyone at the door. Owning The Four Seasons Cookbook will help me to remember an interesting part of my life.