Read Part One: Having Friends For Dinner is Like Las Vegas
(As we left the previous episode I was listening to “Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas’s” Raoul Duke’s immortal suggestions, while mid-way into preparations and contemplating a nap before our friends come for dinner.)
Eureka! Putting away the leftover lentils I had for lunch, I spy a bowl of fresh beets in the fridge, cooked, and ready! These are Gold. Not golden beets, but gold in terms of having something delicious to turn into another small plate. Or, is this, could this be the unknown appetizer?
Rule # 6 Don’t Let Things Go Till the Last Minute
The beet red juice overflows when I add vinegar and honey, staining the wood floor and my toes. Great, now I have beet feet.
“It’s okay, I don’t mind, ” I tell my husband, Rich. “And, alright if I use some of your hard-boiled eggs?” He keeps a stash of our hens eggs, hard-boiled in the fridge for lunch.
“Some?” He gives me “the look” as he wipes up the red juice with a white side towel. “How many is some?”
I quickly peel and add half a dozen these into the bowl of beets and tart/sweet liquid.
“You love pickled eggs!” I swing over at him, hoping to dissolve “the look,” that’s getting more and more
fierce.
Rule #7: Remember Not Everyone in the House Shares Your State of Culinary Dogma*
*Culinary Dogma is a state of everything funneling towards one existence. Dinner. Or in some cases, Casse Croute– Snacks.
Rule # 8 Ask Your Guests to Help! No, Really. They Want To.
The eggplants come out of the oven. Rich turned off the vacum, but left it in the middle of the Great Room. Looking Not So Very, you guessed it, Great. Fish, he muttered. I think. Then the kitchen door closed behind him and he backed out of the driveway to scuttle on down to Carrboro’s Fishmonger. Should I text him what kind, exactly? No, I was a Professional. I can handle whatever he decides. Gulp.
Rich texted me to chill bottles of Sancerre, Chablis, and Rose.
Done.
I chewed a dried fig carefully and thought over the years. Then another fig. And another.
Rule # 9 – During Pre-Event Hours Don’t Eat Anything That Will Be a Digestive Disaster, Later!
My style of entertaining had changed completely; from doing it all and being everything. As if I even could. I gave up the notion clutched in my hot little paws that because I was a professional chef I didn’t have to be human. In the early days of inviting people I thought it was a given that I must put on a show. They were coming to see cooking, real cooking with flames and drips and butter and witty repartee at the same time! When I shut the door amidst a flurry of good-byes I was exhausted and not that happy, not happy at all. Were my guests? Maybe, but the key is if I was not relaxed maybe they were not either.
Rule # 10 – Relax. Your Guests Take Their Cue From You.
Then, my style morphed into the Mom mode. I would be everyone’s Mom at the table. More water, yes. Another plate of pasta? I’ll toss it for you! Of course. I nurtured everyone into a stupefying trance.
But I was circling the conversation, not joining in. Hovering. And I found out I didn’t want to be everyone’s Mom, (I had two lovely young boys with friends of their own, who kept me quite busy!) I had other things to contribute.
These days I keep any last minute show to sauteing shrimp, pulling a pan of focaccia from the oven, going to the garden with my friends for fresh herbs, or whipping cream for the dense chocolate cake. I give them a job too; snipping chives over the salad.
Rich pushes open the door. He has tuna.
“Tuna?What kind?” I had been focusing, a sort of distant mind-willing for him to buy shrimp with the heads on.
“I know you. But this is the Not-Shrimp kind of Tuna.”
He had made a bold move.
As our calico cat, Gabby, stretches out her paws from the nearby sofa, I am reminded of a Tigress, and a lazing in the sun feline ambiance creeps over me.
Rich tucks the tuna in the fridge and I stretch my hands towards the sofa. Just for a little.
And as I dreamt of Raoul Duke in Las Vegas. I heard him say You Must Remember This:
“The possibility of physical and mental collapse is now very real. No sympathy for the Devil, keep that in mind. Buy the ticket, take the ride.”
Rule #11: Take a Little Breather. Stop and Smell the Tarragon of Life.
I’d like to say dinner turned out fine. Just fine. And it did. The tuna steaks got pounded and stuffed. Sent off to the Grill. They are great cold, as are the bottles of Sancerre, Chablis and Rose. But none of it matters around the table. By the time you get there, everything else falls away. But the Eleven Rules of Entertaining are worth posting. What are your rules for entertaining?
Eleven Rules of Entertaining
Rule #1 – Be Organized
Rule #2 – Shop in Advance
Rule # 3 – Know Your Limits
Rule #4 – Ask if Your Guests have Special Diets
Rule # 5 – Be Flexible and Roll With It
Rule # 6 – Don’t Let Things Go Till the Last Minute
Rule #7 – Remember Not Everyone in the House Shares Your State of Culinary Dogma*
*Culinary Dogma is a state of everything funneling towards one existence. Dinner. Or in some cases, Casse Croute– Snacks.
Rule # 8 – Ask Your Guests to Help! No, Really. They Want To.
Rule # 9 – During Pre-Event Hours Don’t Eat Anything That Will Be a Digestive Disaster, Later!
Rule # 10 – Relax. Your Guests Take Their Cue From You.
Rule #11 – Take a Little Breather. Stop and Smell the Tarragon of Life.
I hung up my apron, sat down and joined our friends.
