Customer One
The party that started it all
It didn't start with a business plan. It started with a conversation.
I had mentioned, almost offhandedly, that I was exploring the idea of starting a catering business. Before I could finish the thought, my friend Lauren looked at me and said, "Do you want to cater my party?"
Six words. That's all it took.
Lauren had been eating my cooking for years. She is fond of saying that if she gets a dinner invite from me, she will drop everything to be there. So when she decided her time in DC was coming to an end (she'd been accepted to a six-month sustainability and food systems program in Ireland, which is exactly the kind of move Lauren makes), she knew who she wanted feeding her people on the way out.
The Venue
The send-off was held at Lost Generation Brewery, a beloved neighborhood spot tucked into a beautifully repurposed warehouse space in Northeast DC, right off the MBT trail. Lost Gen has always been the kind of place that supports local businesses: from hosting food trucks and family BBQs with local vendors to live music and a steady stream of community-minded events. It felt right. A place built on supporting local, hosting the first event of a local business, and sending off a person who embodies everything that the neighborhood stands for.
The Menu
Lauren knows my love for Cuban food runs deep. It's the food of my family. So she asked for Cuban finger food. Something festive, shareable, and true. I got to work. I drafted my first-ever sample menus, put together a few options at different price points, and ultimately, we landed on:
Cubano Sandwich Sliders: pressed mini sandwiches built on my family mojo, a recipe I am always tinkering with
Croquetas de Jamón: crispy, salty, creamy, gone in one bite
Pastelitos de Guayaba y Queso: flaky pastry, guava jam, and cream cheese. Non-negotiable.
Mariquitas: thin-sliced crispy plantain chips, served with what I call mojo de ajo.
That last one deserves a word. Mojo ajo (garlic mojo) is a little redundant when you translate it, because traditional Cuban mojo already has plenty of garlic. But I've always called it that, and I have always been tinkering with the sauce. This party was a breakthrough. I found the balance I had been looking for, and the guests noticed.
The Moment
I'll let these photos say most of it. But here's what I heard:
"Wow, this is so good. I could eat a dozen of these."
"What are these?" (They were croquetas)
"Oh my god, they're so good and salty, I need to know how to make these."
And my personal favorite: a parent who had grabbed a plate of mariquitas for their kid, took my advice to get some mojo ajo for themselves, and came back to tell me they wanted to pour it on everything. That one landed.
The Surprise
I also brought a thermos of Cuban coffee to share with Lauren's guests. Because if you're going to do it, do it completely. The food is one thing. The experience is another. A little cafecito at the end of the night. That's the full picture.
Lauren
At the end of the night, Lauren and I took a picture together. She was beaming. And she was proud. Proud that she got to be Customer One. She spent the evening telling everyone there to book me. She handed out a couple of my business cards at her own going-away party. She also gave me her enthusiastic blessing to share the leftovers with the bar staff and then the bar patrons. Lost Gen ran out pretty quickly after that.
What It Means
This feels like the beginning of something. I'm not entirely sure what yet. But I know this: bringing that kind of joy to people, watching someone taste a croqueta for the first time and forget what they were saying mid-sentence, that is what gets me out of bed. It's what makes the long hours in the kitchen worth it. It's what makes even writing a blog post feel like part of something real. Lauren, wherever you are in Ireland right now: thank you for saying yes before I even finished asking.
All Day Catering | Washington, DC | mrc@foodallday.com
