Recipe for Love With Don Carlos Catering and now DC in the Heights, Carlos Reyes and Steven Chrisenberry are partners in business and love by Eric A. T. Dieckman Photo by BJ Smith

Catering is a hectic business, an art of organized chaos where whatever can go wrong, will go wrong–and the going-wrong may involve whipped cream on the ceiling. In their 10 years as owners of Don Carlos Catering, Carlos Reyes and Steven Chrisenberry are well acquainted with Murphy’s vicious law and are always prepared to overcome whatever Murphy throws their way, taking it one day at a time. Now, as if running a business that offers no days off was not enough, Reyes and Chrisenberry recently opened a restaurant a few blocks away from their home–DC in the Heights–to add to their already bustling schedule.

Yet somehow the couple finds some time for an interview. At home, Chrisenberry sits on the sofa in shorts and a polo with the company logo, his long limbs sprawling in front of him. Reyes stretches out in an easy chair, his arms draped across its back, a portrait of genteel repose as luxuriantly cat-like as Sandy, their orange Tabby.

Partners in life as well as in business, these comfy moments are a cherished rarity. Steve has a party in three hours. Is there ever a break? "We have to actually leave town to have time off," Reyes says. He and Chrisenberry go to Aspen every year with a few other couples for gay ski week–although Reyes still does all the cooking. He has to, it’s simply a part of his intrinsic nature, his innate drive to entertain. "We’ll be eating breakfast and I’ll be thinking, ‘What’ll we do for lunch?’" Reyes says. "Then we’ll be having lunch and I’ll be asking, ‘Where should we go for dinner?’"

"I don’t want to think about dinner. I’m trying to have lunch," counters Chrisenberry.

The two met 11 years ago at the Brazos River Bottom (BRB). The gangly and sweet Chrisenberry had just ended a 15-year straight marriage. "I had just come out probably two weeks before that," he says. "I had only been to the bars a couple of times. My roommate heard me complaining that I didn’t like the people I was meeting and said, ‘You need to go where the real men are,’ that I needed to go to the BRB. So then I found Carlos instead." He laughs and winks mischievously at Reyes.

Reyes, out since he was 14, tells his version of the story with a tad more nostalgia. "I saw him when he first came in–he was hard to miss, he was so tall–I watched him go all the way around the room. When he came up to me, I stuck my foot out."

They were inseparable almost immediately. Eight months later, they were in business together, a risky move that sends many relationships crumbling. Food service was not new to Reyes. He had grown up waiting tables in his father’s restaurants, and gone on to manage nightclubs and restaurants in the early ’80s. He had always loved cooking. The business started for him as a side-gig, almost a hobby. Soon the hobby became a full-time effort, one that required assistance. Chrisenberry had been with a software company. He knew nothing of food. "Okay, here are the onions. What do I do with them?" he would say. What Chrisenberry did have, however, was business sense, the ability to make spreadsheets, to calculate costs, and crunch numbers. The two proved just as complementary to each other in business as they were in their relationship. It was a perfect match.

Building their catering business was not easy. The first year was scary. Booking even one party a week was an accomplishment. Success in catering relies almost exclusively on word-of-mouth, and you’re only as good as your last event. It took four to six years to build a following in the gay community. The next logical step was to expand the business. Having made the Don Carlos name a respected and appetizing one, it was time to make the DC delicacies regularly available, outside of the invitations-only world of the soiree. DC in the Heights was born July last year. And it is yummy.

A common misconception about the culinary world is that the professional caterer/restaurateur is a pure gourmet, eating nothing but the finest of fine foods, the most savory of savories every meal. Wrong! Far from dining every morn on Fritatas Florentine, Reyes and Chrisenberry are more likely to be found crunching away at a bowl of Post Toasties. "People over the years have said, ‘We would have you over for dinner–but–we’d be so embarrassed about what we’d serve.’ We love being invited to other people’s parties, not having to do the cooking," says Reyes. Chrisenberry adds with a laugh, "If we don’t feel like cooking, we’ll pop fish sticks in the oven just like anybody else." Speaking of fish sticks, what’s comfort food to this dynamic duo? For Reyes, good ol’ meat and potatoes. Chrisenberry? Blue Bell homemade vanilla ice cream.

But man does not live on bread (or even ice cream) alone. For Reyes and Chrisenberry, when did sex make that mysterious transformation into love? "Eleven years ago," they say without hesitation. And their recipe for a relationship that works in the whirlwind of organized chaos? Just take it one day at a time.

DC in the Heights is open Tuesday—Friday, 11 a.m.—2 p.m. & 5—9 p.m.; Saturday, 9 a.m.—2 p.m. & 5—9 p.m.; and Sunday, 9 a.m.—3 p.m.

• New Orleans Bread Pudding with Southern Whiskey Sauce

(Adapted from Joy of Cooking–offered as a special at DC in the Heights)

Spread 3 tablespoons softened unsalted butter over a 13 x 9-inch baking pan, preferably glass.

Cut 1 1/4 pounds French or Italian Bread (1 1/2 to 2 loaves) into 1/2-inch-thick slices. Arrange the slices almost upright in tightly spaced rows in the prepared pan. Tuck 1 cup raisins or currants between the slices.

Whisk 3 large eggs until frothy. Whisk in 4 cups whole milk, 2 cups sugar, 2 tablespoons vanilla, and 1 teaspoon ground vanilla bean.

Pour the liquid over the bread and let stand for 1 hour, pressing down now and then with a spatula to wet the tops of the slices. Preheat the oven to 375š F.

Bake the pudding until the top is puffed and lightly browned, about 1 hour. Cover with Southern Whiskey Sauce (see below). Let cool on a rack for 30 to 60 minutes, then cut into squares and serve. Leftover sauced pudding will keep for several days in the refrigerator and can be reheated in a 300š F oven for 15 minutes.

Southern Whiskey Sauce

Melt 8 tablespoons (1 stick) unsalted butter over low heat in a small, heavy saucepan.

Using a heatproof rubber spatula or wooden spoon, stir in 1 cup sugar, 1/4 cup bourbon or other whiskey, 2 tablespoons water, 1/4 teaspoon freshly grated or ground nutmeg, 1/8 teaspoon salt.

Cook, stirring, until the sugar is dissolved and the mixture is blended. Remove from the heat.

Whisk 1 large egg until light and frothy.

Vigorously whisk the egg into the liquor mixture. Set the sauce over medium heat and, stirring gently, bring to a simmer. Cook until thickened, about 1 minute. The sauce will not curdle.

Pour over pudding at once, or set aside at room temperature for up to 8 hours, or let cool, then cover and refrigerate for up to 3 days. Reheat over low heat, stirring; if the sauce separates, remove from the heat and whisk in a little warm water.