Ah, the dinner party.
It conjures up visions of good food, good wine, and good friends - unless you have certain types of eating disorders, are a recovering alcoholic, or someone who's always smelled funky and nobody wants to be around you. Then you probably don't plan dinner parties anyway, but therapy sessions. Whatever.
This week I decided to throw a small dinner party. On the surface hosting an event such as this shows my maturity, a coming of age if you will. If you're old enough cook something other than Pizza Pockets to serve to your friends then you've arrived. Poof! Just like that.
Peel back the layers of such a festivity, however, and you'll find a festering mess of dysfunction. Dinner parties lead to evil, folks. Case in point: The Last Supper. Look at what happened after that little shindig and you can see I'm not pulling this out of thin air.
But how can dinnertime get-togethers become so very, very bad? It's all about feeding the ego. And Evil Ego Maven loves the idea of growing round and piggish through seemingly innocent plans.
What is the first thing I have to do in order to plan a dinner party? Invite people. Inviting people makes me the hostess and that not only makes me the it girl of the moment, but also makes me look very thoughtful. 'How thoughtful that you invited us, Maven! How kind! You're such a wonderful person!'
Yes, yes, I am, thank you. Keep talking.
What is the second thing I must do? Pick a day that suits everyone. How about this Saturday? Does that work for you? I want this dinner to accommodate your schedule, of course. 'Saturday is great! Thank you, Maven. You're so considerate.'
Indeed I am. Keep talking.
What is the third thing I must do? The day of the party I must clean my house. There's no sense in tidying up in the days preceding as the gremlins will undoubtedly spew piles of toys and popcorn over anything resembling a newly revealed floor. But, if I get up bright and early, I can have a clean and sparkling home by 3 PM. 'Why, Maven! What a clean and sparkling home! You really take pride in where you live. I'm very impressed. How do you do it?'
How do I do it? With the motivation that I will be heavily rewarded in compliments upon your arrival. Keep going. Thanks.
What is the last thing I must do before the impending arrival? Make a meal fit for a king, or at least fit for someone who doesn't want food poisoning. I must create a culinary masterpiece that both surprises and delights my guests. 'Oh, this is so good! Did you make this all yourself? You did? And it's vegetarian, too? You certainly missed your calling. You should have been a chef!'
And you should have been a groupie. This is fantastic. My ego is completely stuffed. Thanks for coming. Oh, really? Has it only been a hour? It feels like so much longer, though, doesn't it? You must be exhausted. Here are your boots. Catch! I'll pack up some desert so you can eat it on the way home. My gift to you. Enjoy!
See what I mean? Dinner parties can so easily suffocate the soul. So, in order to counter that and reclaim this activity as a healthy one, here are a few tips from The Maven:
1. Invite people you actually like and who don't judge you. Not people you just pretend to like, or who you know don't like you but want to see you screw up a quiche. We had good friends over tonight and were actually able to relax and - wonder of wonders! - enjoy ourselves.
2. Don't invite people who have never been over before. It's hard enough to cook for an army without having to ensure the house is clean enough to give a proper newbie tour. A fledgling relationship is best broken in with coffee or console games. Trust me: when you're as popular as I am you know how to properly pop a friend cherry.
3. Cook what you know, or at least what your partner knows (if you have a partner. If not you might be able to hire an escort who's paying his/her way through culinary school. That would work, too). My goal today was to make chili, soup, salad and apple crisp. I made chili that Geekster had to rescue (more spices, less tomato!), soup that he had to gently mention required a fair bit more water lest it clog the entrance to a guest's windpipe (apparently death doesn't go well as an appetizer), and he ended up making both the salad and apple crisp because I was too overwhelmed with the realization that I cook like ass.
4. If you can manage to have me around at the dinner party - and I'm not the one cooking - Do it. It's guaranteed to be a great success. Although I may eat all a lot of apple crisp. Are you finished with that? Can I lick your bowl?
It conjures up visions of good food, good wine, and good friends - unless you have certain types of eating disorders, are a recovering alcoholic, or someone who's always smelled funky and nobody wants to be around you. Then you probably don't plan dinner parties anyway, but therapy sessions. Whatever.
This week I decided to throw a small dinner party. On the surface hosting an event such as this shows my maturity, a coming of age if you will. If you're old enough cook something other than Pizza Pockets to serve to your friends then you've arrived. Poof! Just like that.
Peel back the layers of such a festivity, however, and you'll find a festering mess of dysfunction. Dinner parties lead to evil, folks. Case in point: The Last Supper. Look at what happened after that little shindig and you can see I'm not pulling this out of thin air.
But how can dinnertime get-togethers become so very, very bad? It's all about feeding the ego. And Evil Ego Maven loves the idea of growing round and piggish through seemingly innocent plans.
What is the first thing I have to do in order to plan a dinner party? Invite people. Inviting people makes me the hostess and that not only makes me the it girl of the moment, but also makes me look very thoughtful. 'How thoughtful that you invited us, Maven! How kind! You're such a wonderful person!'
Yes, yes, I am, thank you. Keep talking.
What is the second thing I must do? Pick a day that suits everyone. How about this Saturday? Does that work for you? I want this dinner to accommodate your schedule, of course. 'Saturday is great! Thank you, Maven. You're so considerate.'
Indeed I am. Keep talking.
What is the third thing I must do? The day of the party I must clean my house. There's no sense in tidying up in the days preceding as the gremlins will undoubtedly spew piles of toys and popcorn over anything resembling a newly revealed floor. But, if I get up bright and early, I can have a clean and sparkling home by 3 PM. 'Why, Maven! What a clean and sparkling home! You really take pride in where you live. I'm very impressed. How do you do it?'
How do I do it? With the motivation that I will be heavily rewarded in compliments upon your arrival. Keep going. Thanks.
What is the last thing I must do before the impending arrival? Make a meal fit for a king, or at least fit for someone who doesn't want food poisoning. I must create a culinary masterpiece that both surprises and delights my guests. 'Oh, this is so good! Did you make this all yourself? You did? And it's vegetarian, too? You certainly missed your calling. You should have been a chef!'
And you should have been a groupie. This is fantastic. My ego is completely stuffed. Thanks for coming. Oh, really? Has it only been a hour? It feels like so much longer, though, doesn't it? You must be exhausted. Here are your boots. Catch! I'll pack up some desert so you can eat it on the way home. My gift to you. Enjoy!
See what I mean? Dinner parties can so easily suffocate the soul. So, in order to counter that and reclaim this activity as a healthy one, here are a few tips from The Maven:
1. Invite people you actually like and who don't judge you. Not people you just pretend to like, or who you know don't like you but want to see you screw up a quiche. We had good friends over tonight and were actually able to relax and - wonder of wonders! - enjoy ourselves.
2. Don't invite people who have never been over before. It's hard enough to cook for an army without having to ensure the house is clean enough to give a proper newbie tour. A fledgling relationship is best broken in with coffee or console games. Trust me: when you're as popular as I am you know how to properly pop a friend cherry.
3. Cook what you know, or at least what your partner knows (if you have a partner. If not you might be able to hire an escort who's paying his/her way through culinary school. That would work, too). My goal today was to make chili, soup, salad and apple crisp. I made chili that Geekster had to rescue (more spices, less tomato!), soup that he had to gently mention required a fair bit more water lest it clog the entrance to a guest's windpipe (apparently death doesn't go well as an appetizer), and he ended up making both the salad and apple crisp because I was too overwhelmed with the realization that I cook like ass.
4. If you can manage to have me around at the dinner party - and I'm not the one cooking - Do it. It's guaranteed to be a great success. Although I may eat all a lot of apple crisp. Are you finished with that? Can I lick your bowl?