COMMENT
JACI HICKEN
In 2003, I was working as a chef in a large five-star hotel in Melbourne.
They don’t tell you that your first job out of chef school will be to make sandwiches.
Every day I would get to work and being the conscientious person I am, I was nearly always first in, and first in meant you made 16 loaves of finger sandwiches for high tea.
But, this day was different, the head chef had different ideas.
“Jaci, can you move on to making fairy bread,” he said.
“You know, hundreds and thousands on white bread, with the crusts cut off.
“And by the way we need 1500 servings by noon.
“The special guest is going to be here soon, so you better get started”.
Dame Edna Everage and her alter ego, Barry Humphries, had agreed to appear, on short notice, at a fundraiser for a children’s charity and people had paid big bucks to come along.
It was rumoured to be the only appearance Dame Edna would be making on her visit to Melbourne at that time, so it was a big deal.
And like most events we did at this hotel, it went off without a hitch.
At the end of the event, something happened that has never happened to me before or since.
The head chef summoned the brigade around the service bench.
“Down tools and come here, Jaci,” he said.
It is more than likely I argued and said something like “I need to finish cleaning up and start on tomorrow’s sandwiches.”
Out came Dame Edna.
She stood in front of us, thanked the brigade for all their hard work and told a joke.
I was overwhelmed that I had just met Dame Edna and I completely forgot what the joke was.
What stands out to me was that Dame Edna took the time to come into the kitchen and thank the chefs.
That never happens.
That’s my memory of Dame Edna.
Vale Dame Edna Everage.
Vale Barry Humphries.