A few years ago, I began to develop a prejudice against the notion of catering. It was illogical, as most prejudices are, but I knew where it came from: those short, anxious telephone conversations I would have with good chefs who had just left their restaurants.

“Why did you leave?”

“I can’t talk about that.”

“OK… But what are your plans?”

“I may do some catering.”

The answer was always the same. I started to think of “catering” as a euphemism for unemployed, like actors “resting” between jobs. Perhaps because I don’t move in corporate circles, my exposure to catered food has been minimal: the odd wrap-party wrap; a handful of curled-up canapés at a gallery opening.

My underexposure to catered fare also owes much to the fact that I came to Toronto in the late ’80s, just as restaurants were becoming the social playgrounds of the well-to-do. People stopped having dinner parties at home. Taking friends out to Centro or Pronto was much more fun; for very special occasions, they took over the restaurant. But the whirligig of time brings in his revenges: entertaining at home is once again cool. There’s no outrageous markup on the wine, and in the privacy of your own dining room, you can be as ostentatious as you like. The big question now—whether for an intimate dinner or a garden wedding with tent, orchestra, dance floor and bouncy castle—is who will you get to cater?

My knee-jerk reaction is to suggest a restaurant chef, but that may not be such a smart move. It’s true almost every chef I’ve met will occasionally cook for a dinner party in someone’s home. It’s a service they perform for their best customers, sometimes for an astronomical fee, sometimes for nothing. But there’s also a rich crop of specialists who’d rather cook in your place than theirs. Some were once restaurant stars who crossed to the other side; others made their name with little more than a prep kitchen and a van. They’ve made eating at home the glamorous option.

When I asked The Globe and Mail’s food columnist, Lucy Waverman, for the best private caterer for a dinner party, she answered without hesitation: Ezra Title. The name may not be familiar, but his food is famous among people who shop at the Brick Works farmers’ market on Saturday mornings. Title is the guy who makes those delicious grilled cheese sandwiches and creamy scrambled eggs with mushrooms and pickled wild leeks in a bread bowl. His other credentials are equally impressive: an MBA in hospitality and tourism management from the University of Guelph, training at the California Culinary Academy and three years cooking at Jardinière in San Francisco, where he developed his appreciation of ingredients, then a year at Daniel in New York, where he developed his technique. The 16-hour workdays confirmed his suspicion that a career in restaurants was incompatible with a fulfilled personal life. He came back to Toronto and worked for 18 months managing the Healthy Butcher; three years ago, he started catering, slowly building his business by word of mouth.

Not only does Title meet with every client and plan a unique menu for them, he’s the one who preps, cooks, serves it and cleans up afterwards. He does all his shopping at farmers’ markets, and has established relationships with the growers, which adds a sweet garnish of righteousness.

Like any caterer worth his salt, he also has a knack for handling the inevitable crises that crop up at events. Last summer, he was halfway through a garden party for 70, working in the kitchen with his regular sous-chef, Jenelle Regnier-Davies, when it started to rain. While he tried to plate seared tuna with fingerling potatoes and preserved lemon coulis, and finish the Kerr Farms beef short ribs in red wine glaze, the guests crowded into the kitchen.

“It could have been a disaster,” recalls the hostess, “but in the end, my guests had a lovely time helping pass plates around. Ezra and his team took it all in their stride. They moved the bar indoors into the laundry room and didn’t miss a beat. Everyone said it was great fun.”