In Defence of Dinner Parties
And the rules I never break to make make hosting a breeze
Allow me a grumble, if you will.
I have a slight bee in my bonnet about all the haters of dinner parties. Not that these dinner party opponents necessarily hate the gathering itself, but the phrase, and presumably its implication.
Jenny Rosenstrach the author of the terrific blog, Dinner: A Love Story, confessed in a recent post, “… dinner party, a term, which, to me will always connote pressed linens and advanced planning.”
Ms Rosenstrach (whom I’ve never met, but greatly so admire that if she ever invited me to one of her non-dinner parties, I would be there in a heartbeat), isn’t alone. Alison Roman – who has been dubbed the, “Millennial Nigella Lawson” – has built her captivating brand on “having people over,” not hosting a dinner party – and definitely not “entertaining.”
To each their own, I suppose, but it’s a dinner. And it’s a party. So what else are we supposed to call it?
I’m a staunch supporter of dinner parties. The term and the practice. But, like Ms Rosenstrach, I too reject the notion of starched linens and stiff formalities. My core belief is that a dinner party – a gathering of people you like (ideally), to come together to talk, and eat, and drink – shouldn’t be stuffy. It should be relaxed and welcoming and natural. And this can be elegant as well as easy.
While I love a well-set table, I abhor prim layouts. Instead of contoured floral arrangements and rigid tapered candles, I’d much rather low-lying bowls of seasonal produce and subtle tea lights. I’m not a fan of tablecloths (they get caught in your legs when trying to get up from the table), but I do like linen napkins – not starched, but soft and naturally wrinkled, if that’s how the material finds itself after a wash. I don’t mind napkin rings – they can be a saving grace for those of us who are dubious of napkin origami (and keep the host’s handling of the cloth that will touch your face to a minimum). I dislike paper napkins for meals, and absolutely loathe paper towel.
I do however, love planning.
Planning, to me, is not a dirty word – well, unless you clutch your pearls at the term “planning porn.” The well-worn magazine I keep on my nightstand is a colour-coded notebook with a to-do list arranged by days, weeks, and months. I’m an absolute vixen in the sack.
Anyway, planning needn’t be arduous nor time consuming. It can be as basic as picking up a few snacks during your weekly grocery shop to always have on hand for last-minute gatherings (I know absolutely none of us have friends just “drop in” unannounced. However, I did once have a friend from Vancouver end up with a delayed transfer at the Toronto airport; she called to see if I was around and then hopped in a car to come over. I had 30 minutes to get together a little aperitivo, so it does happen.)
Most of us will have at least a few days before hosting a gathering. It’s more likely we will have the luxury of several weeks, or even months for really big to-dos. And this means you with each stroke of knocking something off your list, you’re equally striking down your stress level.
Could I ask a favour? I’m trying to build a terrific community of like-minded winos, foodies and party hosts. If you enjoy reading Quaintrelle would you mind sharing this newsletter with a few friends who might enjoy it, too?
My 7 Rules for a Stress-Free Dinner Party
1. Always make ahead
If the party gods descended upon me and ruled I could only keep one guideline, this would be it.
Not having my dinner complete when guests arrive makes me panic. And there’s zero reason for it: so many delicious and welcome things can be made in advance from roasts to stews to lasagnas why put yourself through the stress of whipping meringues a la minute while everyone else whoops it up in your living room? That’s not a party, it’s a prison sentence.
Similarly, when I arrive at someone else’s house for a dinner party and they’re not done, my feelings range somewhere between anxiety and annoyance. I’m either awkwardly trying to chat with the host as he only half pays attention to me whilst basting a turkey, or I’m making small talk with the rest of the guests while the central figure is so obviously missing because they are locked away in the kitchen stirring and whipping and frosting and mixing.
Look, I know all the cool food shows make you feel like you should proudly bring some centre piece food stuff to the dining table in ta-da! fashion, presenting your prized roast beef like Simba’s birth in The Lion King but really, that’s only serving your ego, not the reason for the party – which is to enjoy each other’s company.
Stay cool, calm, and collected – and join your friends for cocktail hour – by happily having something delicious slowly bubbling away in the oven ready to be served when you want it.
Here’s my recipe for coq au vin, which is a stylish make-ahead dinner.
2. Make delicious, but simple, food
An addendum to my first party principle.
The reason why you can go to a restaurant with four or six or 15 people and all enjoy something different served flawlessly at the same time, is because kitchens have a brigade. There may only be handful of people working back there, or it might be an actual army of white coats, but from salads to pastas to desserts to dishwashing…. There’s someone in charge of each task. And before it all gets sent to your table, a final person – the “expo,” (often the executive or head chef) – looks the order over, makes sure all is as it should be, cleans up the plates, and sends it off.
My bet is this is not your kitchen system.
Again, keeping your dinner menu simple, yet indulgent, will go further than you trying to whip a Caesar salad to order table side.
This is my favourite cocktail party menu.
3. Family Style
Plating for people is the antithesis of hosting. It’s subtly judgmental and overly personal, suggesting what and how much someone should eat. Instead, family style shows a spirit of hospitality and generosity to help themselves to as much (or as little) as they want. An added bonus is that I’m not particularly artistic when it comes to plating, so heaps of overflowing bowls and platters scattered along the table is a convenient solution.
4. Clean the bathroom
I really can’t believe I have to mention this, but I have been to a shocking number of parties where the bathroom was not… shall we say, “close-up ready.”
Even for washrooms that were reasonably clean, the mouth guard left on the side of the sink, the morning’s wash cloth draped over the faucet, a razor with hair sticking out of it perched in a cup on the vanity … guests don’t want or need to see these things.
Clean your washroom, light a scented candle for ambience as well as practicality, put out extra clean towels (no one wants to use the wet one!), and put away personal items (I even go so far as to remove my electric toothbrush from the countertop, but I’m an extreme case of peculiarity). Don’t forget to empty the waste bin, stack extra rolls of toilet paper, and leave an obvious place to put used hand towels so people don’t have to go rifling through your cupboards.
5. Polished Glasses
While I appreciate a whimsical table, I love the sparkle of polished wine glasses.
Watch how to polish like a pro in this video.
6. Greet everyone with a welcome cocktail
I love, love, love, a welcome cocktail to set the tone for the party.
Whether it be a pitcher of margaritas for a summer lunch or French 75’s for a celebratory dinner, throwing open the door and thrusting a glass of something delicious into your arriving guests’ hands does away with awkward formalities and instead says, “welcome! Let’s get this party started!”
7. No one does the dishes.
This will be a divisive one, I can tell.
A while ago I read a post where the author suggested it’s fun to have friends help with the washing up – like a little party within a party.
I respectfully disagree.
Nothing kills the celebratory vibe faster than having friends sweating over stuck on grease in their formal wear (even if formal wear is just jeans and a t-shirt).
I will also add that as one of the final “activities” of your dinner party, pot washing will be the evening’s last impression. I would rather my friends and family leave saying, “my stomach hurts from laughing so hard!” not, “my back aches from being bent over the sink.”
Of course, sometimes space and practicality call for removing dishes from the table, or even off the kitchen counters. If this dinner party such an occasion, I take no more than the time it takes to brew the coffee to quickly load the dishwasher or stack in the sink. Just like I don’t want to be stuck in the kitchen at the start of the evening coaxing a rise out of a soufflé, I don’t want to be locked in the kitchen at the end, elbow-deep in suds.
I’m curious, do you ask your guests to pitch in with tidying up?