Hello there Co. I'm just going to call you the Co. because aren't we all a part of it? We're all part of the Roblé revolution. At least I hope so. Let's all come along on this catering carnival with him shall we?
First off, how precious is Mr. Ali? He's not making food for any particular zipcode (which is good because I eating food that hyper-local is way too Portlandia for my taste). He's going to create amazing parties with his sister and all their wackadoo friends. It's going to be great!
All Eyes on Me at the Center of the Ring. . .
Roblé's first client is Kerry, who wants her 25th birthday party to be ridiculous. She's thinking circus-themed (unfortunately not Britney Spears "Circus"-themed), but what she actually has in mind is carnival. She wants it to be scary "a little bit," which I believe puts it at Lady Gaga video-level as obossed to Saw-themed.
But what's most terrifying is her list of demands. No green food, tequila just for her (she doesn't care what other people drink), K's drizzled on every bite (thankfully that was axed right off the bat), and a monkey. I understand the last request because I have never had a birthday party without a monkey. Without one what's the point? Sans simian friend, it's just a small dinner.
And so the gang gets to work. . . meaning Shawn tried on corsets for the circus performers to wear.