A Writer, a Comedian, and a Chef Walk Into a Dinner Party
Plus, an easy freezer door daiquiri, my favorite movie dinner scenes, and a jazzy soundtrack for your next shindig
I live in a relatively small house. I say ‘relatively’ because everything is relative – it’s not a legitimate tiny house, like the ones with the adult bunk beds and meals made in hot pots on stove tops that look like children’s play kitchens. It’s also not a 1-room studio in Manhattan rented by a 22-year-old marketing coordinator who swears that her peel-and-stick kitchen sink backsplash is all she needed to make her shoebox feel like home.
It’s a normal split-level ranch that we bought 10 years ago as a starter home and are now bursting out of like Alice in Wonderland when she eats the White Rabbit’s cookies. It’s not an insufferable time, though. We love our home and have each found little nooks for alone time when the occasion calls for it. The only downside is the lack of space for entertaining, which is something my husband I both love to do. If we could double the size of our home, our first order of business would be to institute a recurring cadence of dinner parties.
It’s a fading art, the dinner fête. I suspect that the ritual of dinner parties peaked in the 70s, to be gradually replaced by restaurants as the central meeting spot for social, self-described foodies. This hypothesis is not grounded in any research on my part, but rather born out of a single line in one of my favorite films, When Harry Met Sally: “Restaurants are to people in the 80s what theaters were to people in the 60s.” Of course, this boujee sentiment came from a fictional NYC-based magazine writer character crafted by Nora Ephron, so hardly an academic source. That said, Ephron was a prolific observer of the role that food played in the human experience and was a seasoned dinner party host. Her essay, About Having People to Dinner, is prescriptive about the best ways to nail a supper gathering: round tables instead of tables with corners, follow the Rule of Four (always add one more fun little feature like an interesting bread to the menu on top of the big three: meat/fish, starch, and vegetable), and – most importantly – always have a deliberate seating plan.
Yesterday, my daughter gave our family the most delightful conversation prompt. If you could have any three celebrities, dead or alive, over for dinner, who would they be? Similar to the “deserted island albums” prompt, this is an exercise in self-expression as well as practicality. Just like no one should take a James Blunt album to a place of perpetual solitude, one should be mindful of the personality mix at a dinner table, regardless of how hot and talented these people are outside of your dinner party scenario.
My list was comprised of Ms. Ephron, Anthony Bourdain, and Mel Brooks. They meet three key criteria: 1) They are adept at articulating a rich point of view on a wide range of topics, 2) They have a passion for food, and 3) I can arrange them according to Ephron’s seating plan parameters – don’t seat anyone next to the person they came with and strive to seat boy/girl/boy/girl.
If I had these three at my dinner table, I’d lubricate the social gears with a daiquiri (batch recipe in the below “Weekly Pour” segment) and start some lively discourse around soup. I probably would not serve soup while talking about soup – that’s a little too on the nose – but there would certainly be a slow roasted meat of some sort in the oven and therefore the air would be thick with a symphony of delicious smells reminiscent of simmering stock. Hearts and minds would be ripe with desire and a rousing conversation about soup would be a great way to bridge the gap from cocktail hour to the main course. Incidentally, soup is actually the perfect topical intersection point between our three guests – the writer, the comedian, and the chef.
Nora could kick things off by discussing the recipe for sorrel soup in her novel Heartburn, which was adapted into a film by the same name, starring Meryl Streep. Meryl went on to star in Julia & Julia, a film written by Nora Ephron about Julia Child. Well, wouldn’t you know it - Anthony detailed in his book, Kitchen Confidential, that Julia Child’s vichyssoise (cold potato and leek soup) was a catalyst for his passion for cooking.
“Wow, what a fascinating coincidence!” I’d interject knowingly, as a I topped off their daiquiris.
Mel would mention that one of his signature dishes that he used to cook for his late wife Anne Bancroft was a soup – Manhattan clam chowder. Perhaps this would kick up a debate about the ranking order of various types of chowder. Of course, all three of my guests are native New Yorkers so my guess is that there would be a strong alliance with the Manhattan variety.
There’s a chance that the soup conversation would then stall. A good host must be prepared for a momentary lapse in conversational vigor. I would be ready.
“Your other signature dish was an omelette, wasn’t it, Mel?” I’d say before taking a deep drag of my cigarette. Yes, in this scenario, I’m smoking and drinking daiquiris like it’s 1976, before restaurants became to people in the 80s what theater was to people in the 60s.
Yes, he’d exclaim, dazzled by my recollection of this deeply personal fact and not at all creeped out. It was a tomato and onion omelette. “My wife would jump in the air,” he’d explain. “She'd say this is the perfect omelette.” We’d all take another drag of our cigarettes and sit in contemplative silence as John Coltrane gently flowed in from the living room record player. Finally, Anthony would tie it all together in a way that only he could: “You know, the way you make an omelette reveals your character.”
And right at that moment, the oven timer would ding.
Even though we live in a little house without a dining room, we still have parties. Really good parties, if I do say so myself. And one of our tricks to keeping guests happy in bustling quarters is having batch cocktails ready to go. Everyone crowds in our kitchen, leaving the bartender very little room to operate. Cue the freezer door cocktail!
Here’s how you prep your own pre-made freezer door daiquiri so you can chain smoke and wax poetic about soup with Mel Brooks while your meat roasts. First, buy a 750 ml bottle of white rum and pour out 7 oz for consumption at a later time (or now, if that’s how you roll). Add the following to the bottle:
3 ½ oz of fresh squeeze lime juice
2 oz of water
1 ¾ oz agave or simple syrup
Put the cap back on, give it a good shake, and then stash in the freeze
When you’re ready to consume, pour into a cocktail glass and garnish with a lime wedge. This is not a Spring Break 2003 frozen strawberry daiquiri, friends. It’s simple, sophisticated, and effective.
Now I’m thinking about my favorite dinner scenes in movies. Here’s a sampling:
It’s every single person’s worst nightmare – getting invited to a dinner party with a bunch of judgmental couples. Favorite line: “Why are there so many unmarried women in their 30s these days, Bridget?” “Well, I don’t know. I suppose it doesn’t help that underneath our clothes our entire bodies are covered in scales.”
Every family has a Chevy Chase and a Randy Quaid. Not sure which one is worse. But as far as this iconic Christmas dinner scene, I’m giving all the credit to Mr. Quaid’s Cousin Eddie character. Favorite line: “Save the neck for me, Clark.”
This is an extraordinarily depressing romantic comedy from start to finish. You get to spend two hours watching the slow trainwreck of a dying relationship with no real redemption. The bright spots are the supporting characters, especially Justin Long’s gallery receptionist and John Michael Higgins’ overly enthusiastic acapella singing brother, who has my favorite part in a particularly painful family dinner moment. Favorite line: “It’s really a brotherhood. A musical team. A symphony of guys. A guy symphony.”
Now that you’ve been inspired to host a shindig of your own, you need a soundtrack. My favorite choice is the Cocktail Jazz playlist on Spotify.
All of the tracks serve as a seamless backdrop to your conversations versus competing with them, which is super important for creating a sustainable lounge environment.
Cheers!