(Be a) HOSTESS WITH THE MOSTESS

(Be a) HOSTESS WITH THE MOSTESS

Today, instead of boring you with the gluten-free vegan oatmeal-cranberry cookies I made last night (from Vegan Diner: delicious!) or talking about my first stuffed-and-trussed roast (success!) in… ever?... I’m going to chat with you about cooking for other people. Specifically, hosting friends for dinner. (Dare I call it a dinner party?)

Having friends over for a meal, a party, or just a glass of wine is something I genuinely enjoy. For one, it forces me to clean the house. (I am expert at dim lighting that hides dust.) Two, it can take your friendship to a new place. Those friends who are Spin Class Only Friends, Weekday Coffee Friends, or (always tricky) Primarily Colleagues? Moving those people from one category to Sees My Eclectic Décor and Eats My Roast can be nerve-wracking, but also rewarding. A few thoughts:

A. Cook what you’re comfortable doing with one hand tied behind your back. I did not follow this route this time (see: anxiety-mongering trussed roast, above), but in the past, I’ve had great luck with a simple roasted vegetable ragoût over creamy polenta. People love it: it can easily be vegan or vegetarian, and it’s idiot-proof. (And you can make your polenta in the microwave to great effect!)

B. Worry not about fancy tableware—I’ve served out of mason jars and mismatched glass punch plates—and instead about having plenty of fizzy water and other beverages to go around. Focus on the conversation instead.

C. Mix up the guest list and see what happens. Having just one other couple can be a raucous good time, but your retired neighbors + a fun-seeming professional acquaintance + the owners of the local coffee shop can be a night to remember. The same friends every time will grow tired of your polenta real quick.

D. Imperfect dishes? A disaster or two, even? Laugh about it. As a guest, there are far worse things than food that isn’t bloggable: spending the evening in the company of a humorless superhuman dinner party machine, for one. I’ll go ahead and admit that I got so caught up in a funny story that I burned the tart shell; two full drinks spilled on my fussy table, one of them mine; and the fondue separated very strangely. Did they care? They did not.

 The evening's guests, minus Santa.

Even if your place is too small and you haven’t upgraded your silverware since college days, give it a shot this weekend. Make what you know, invite your best and brightest, and linger over the burned tart. It could be habit-forming.

 - Kristen