“It doesn’t really matter what the occasion is — big or small — but it’s the connections that we have… Entertaining isn’t just about making dinner parties. It’s about celebrating those connections, and I think that’s what makes life worth living.”
— Ina Garten
I adore Ina Garten’s books and always tried to catch her on the Food Network because while her food was always perfectly prepared, it wasn’t intimidating. She made it look elegantly effortless as if she just wandered into a kitchen, threw a few things together, and came out with a beautiful meal. Clearly, there is a lot of work involved in the kind of cooking she does. You have to know about food, what goes with what, and how to filet something, or fold in some cheese. Sometimes a recipe calls for whisking flour and I forget what else in a hot pan until it forms into something called a roux. Most of these skills, at least at her level, elude me, but I can manage to toss together a few meals here and there.
But actually entertaining? Having a dinner party? The kind where people come to my home and expect food at a table with plates that match? It might as well be rocket science; that kind of task makes me want to run to the nearest McDonald’s and call it a day. I have had a few events at my home where I at least put out some appetizers, tossed a chicken in a pot, and hoped for the best, but they made me remember how different it was when I was growing up.
Occasionally, if my aunts and uncles were coming to town for a weekend, my mother would have to throw together a dinner party. She’d start by going to a small cabinet where we kept the “good” dishes and dragging out the Irish linen. Even our modest home had some good napkins and a matching tablecloth or two to dress up the scarred, second-hand table we sat around every night.
After properly washing and ironing those, she would set the table, not with the Flintstone jelly jar glasses and the Corning Ware, but with the nicer pieces. My brother and I were threatened with everything my mother could come up with if we touched any of it. My father’s job was to set up the bar. In the “Mad Men” era of the mid-1960s, most homes had a bar cart with unique glassware, pitchers, long cocktail spoons, an ice bucket, and a martini shaker. At a real dinner party, the drinks had to be well made, without a beer can in sight.
It didn’t happen often, but it was always fun to spy on the party when I was supposed to be in bed and listen to the ice rattle around in “highball” glasses (that matched, of course) while the grown-ups ate things like salads that came out of bright copper molds shaped like fish. I was so glad those jiggly fish bits never came out on a regular supper night because, honestly, who looked at fish, cream sauce, olives, and gelatin and thought, “That would be tasty!”
Recently, our family had dinner with some friends, and it was so different from the dinner parties of days gone by. We started with the menu from our favorite splurge restaurant in Boston, a Chinese place that has the best seafood.
We all picked some favorite dishes, cleared a space on the kitchen counter, and used whatever plates were in the dishwasher. We drank out of mismatched mason jars and coffee mugs and used a few plastic forks. We laughed like fools and stayed up way too late, and it was fabulous. It should be noted that my friend is a stellar cook and could have made a gourmet meal with one eye closed, but it was a last-minute idea, so takeout was our choice.
Throwing a dinner party doesn’t require the work it did 50 years ago. It’s perfectly acceptable to go rogue and have all finger foods or even (gasp!) takeout. Paper plates are fine, please; I saw an idea that involved throwing seasoned ground beef into a bag of Fritos and calling it a “walking taco.” Charcuterie boards are all the rage now, but I’ve been doing those for years; I just called them “snackies.” I’d throw bits of cheese, ham, fruit, baby carrots, hummus, and some crackers on a platter when I didn’t feel like cooking.
What’s on your table doesn’t matter nearly as much as who is sitting at it, so either order some pizza or subs or whip up a favorite dish and catch up with friends. Bonus points if you can make a classic Manhattan in the right glass.
Brenda Kelley Kim has lived in Marblehead for 50 years, and is an author, freelance writer, and mother of three. Her column appears weekly.