Self-Taught Lesson #14: So, how do you get this thing (a dinner party) started?
Now that I've sent out an invite for people to come to my tiny Brooklyn apartment...what's next?
After I saw my parents last weekend, and retrieved bags of sweaters, t-shirts, a citrus slicer, a water bottle, and a library book I left behind in December in a last-minute dash, I also gained a new cookbook. Above the library book (a rented 2019 edition of Joy of Cooking that I have held for too long) was a sun-yellowed 1962 edition with my grandma’s handwriting on a Post-It on the inside sleeve.
This would be the perfect reference book for entertaining, I thought. This was a primary document from the era of living room sets, charades, and cocktail hour.
When I flipped through the hors d’oeuvres section, I also discovered that it was the era of mayo. Recipes like “cold skewered tidbits” and “gelatin cheese mold” didn’t strike me as something to resuscitate. Deciding where the ash tray goes is also a different vibe than what I’m looking for.
But this element of under the “Entertaining” subhead made me smile, because its message echoes the passed-down 2019 edition:
When you are entertaining, try not to feel that something unusual is expected of you as a hostess. It isn’t. Just be yourself. Even eminent and distinguished persons are only human. Like the rest of us, they shrink from ostentation; and nothing is more disconcerting to a guest than the impression that his coming is causing a household commotion.
Then the paragraph ends with, “Work like a demon, if you must. Satisfy yourself that you have anticipated every known emergency—the howling child, the last-minute search for cuff links, your husband’s exuberance, your helper’s ineptness, your own ill humor. Then relax and enjoy your guests.”
Emotionally suppress, suppress, suppress!!!! And get a hold of those gosh-darn cuff links and that distressing husband!!!
So, you invited everyone last Sunday to come over this Sunday. It could be 10 to 14 people.
What could go wrong?
The better question: what now?
Here are the quick and dirty tips I’ve gleaned on hosting a dinner party, though none of them imagine that you really live in one long room where the kitchen, living room, improvised dining room, and improvised cocktail bar will all be in the same 8-feet by 20-feet rectangle.
My apartment (needs tidying, I know), for reference:
Let the games begin!
Joy of Cooking (1962)
If something happens at the last-minute, rise to the occasion, but don’t be a freak about it (my interpretation)
Assembling a dinner for your family is the most important meal you’ll make
If you can’t warm plates in the oven, throw them in the dishwasher on a heated dry cycle
Diners should have 30 inches of elbow room from the diner next to them
Keep decoration on the table, from flowers to candles, lower than eye sight so you don’t prevent table conversation, but go big on the serving stations or drink carts
Serve soup in covered soup bowls or tureens, and serve salads on plates, bowls, or “bone plates”
If your group prefers a longer cocktail hour, season your food generously for the main course (because, presumably, their senses will be altered)
Using your everyday dishes is okay for a “rustic” effect
For informal dining:
base your menu on foods that can be made in advance and easily served by the host-waitress-cook
consider how the menu will operate with last-minute serving and prep
consider pre-plating then rolling out the plates on a dinner cart (if there’s not a child who can be trusted to help you) or plate food at the ends of the table for guests to serve themselves
whatever the meal, make sure to serve hot foods hot and cold foods cold
So, given I don’t have a loose child prone to serving or more than four dinner plates, let’s go back to the 21st century with some advice.
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