I was delighted when my daughter, Anggit, gave me an invitation to a “Gala Dinner in Premiere 21” at her campus, the Swiss German University at Serpong, a satellite town 20 kilometers west of Jakarta, early this month.
Particularly impressing was the lovely letter of invitation that the students wrote their parents. It began with, “Ladies and Gentlemen...”
Theme: Premiere 21. Time: 18:15 — 21:30. Yes, they forgot to include the date! An invitation to a gala dinner without a date! So you had to find out yourself if you wanted to go.
“It has been so hectic for us to plan the project that we often forget not only dates but sometimes our names,” says Anggit trying hard to make an excuse.
As the theme sounded like the well-known movie theater franchise, I figured we would be attending a new movie while sipping lemon tea and sinking our teeth into crispy fried chicken.
But later I learned that the theme was light-heartedly adopted from the number of hard-working Tourism and Hotel Management fifth semester students involved in the project.
So, clad in my best batik, I arrived half an hour late due to the infamous Saturday night traffic along the wide streets of the bustling business district of BSD in Serpong.
Stepping out of the elevator on the second floor alone, it was dead quiet. The hallway leading to the dinner venue was festooned with paper stars each bearing the name of the dinner hosts arranged alphabetically. It was inspired by Hollywood’s walk of fame.
“Just follow the stars, Pak” a girl’s voice coming from an ajar door startled me as I walked down the hallway, now and then looking back suspiciously.
Arriving at the reception, I filled the guest book and was received by an army of exceptionally friendly young people dressed in smart suits. I was escorted to my seat and served like a billionaire settling down in a luxury hotel.
Only then did I figure out what the “Premiere 21 Gala Dinner” was all about. Our children showed us what they could do in the kitchen and serve patrons after five semesters. The event was held a month before the students go for a six-month internship with international hotels at home and abroad.
The meals were awesome. For some, who knew only local dishes their whole life and were unaccustomed to “high class” lifestyle may happily wondered how their kids learned to prepare the strangely named food that taste just as strange on their palate.
Just look at what was on the menu card that night: “Soup Poseidon”, which they defined as “chicken broth soup served with oriental wonton”.
For the main course, they offered “Chicken Little” — a boneless chicken breast marinated with hoisin and black bean sauce. Or, if fish is your favorite dish, you could opt to “Finding Nemo” — “fillet of rouget mixed with cream sauce vin-blanc”. Got it? I didn’t but I found it tasty.
And in that dimly-lit “restaurant” that night, you could ask for “Angel and Demond”, a dessert made of a “combination of sour mandarin cake with the boldness of tiramisu cake served with house-made sauce”.
Some teachers were awarded for their favorable or unfavorable trait. So Tommy Saroso was named “The most Patient Teacher”, Munawaroh “Mumun” Zaenal as “The most Fashionable Teacher” and Irwan Subroto as “The Most Authoritarian Teacher” the students dealt with.
Team leaders took turn on the stage, explaining how they had taken the hard time over many days doing the surprise project. Appearing from the kitchen, Nathanael repeatedly bowed and apologized for any imperfections in serving the parents — something that many children won’t do in real life at home.
On the surface, the occasion may be simple: sons and daughters prepared dinner for parents. But, still, some parents like me were particularly touched by their new-found sense of independence.
Usually relying on their maids for most of their household chores, that night the urban kids demonstrated their skills. Cooking. Greeting. Serving. And... singing songs in praise of their parents.
“Finally, [the girls] become women,” as Mumun put it.
Hopefully they will now be embarrassed to hear themselves calling out to their maids, “Mbak do this and do that for me...”
They’ll become managers of hotels and their own lives.
— Pandaya
