Dinner parties are having a revival, they were never gone but a storm of circumstances is propulsing them under the spotlight. A conjecture of the economic crisis and a desire to party, a craving for the past.
This revival, as usual, has to do with the current financial climate: restaurants are too expensive or closing, a lack of third places to meet, and trends. Anyone lucky enough to have a dining room or even just a kitchen table and no roommates, or roommates you are friendly with, can host. The menu does not need to be elaborate or even expensive, a potluck will do. The essential is togetherness, a spirit of fun and carelessness, sharing food and laughs and drinks until late into the night.
I mentioned it in my party girl article (see below), parties are so back and even though the UK has allegedly moved out of recession, the struggle to drink and eat out is still very much there. Money may be in the way of traditional out-out nights, but it will not impeach me to party.
I remember when my parents had guests over, the preparation that went into that one evening. Nagging us to clean every corner of the house, the eternal wondering of why the guests would be going to our bedrooms, the delicious and warming cooking scent, the living room coffee table filling up with tasty aperitives. My dad, emerging from the basement with some bottles of wine, sourced at the producers (always a Bourgogne or Beaujolais). The whole family dressed in our best clothes, popping open a bottle of sparkling apple juice, poured into flutes - our treat. There were dimmed lights, candles and the excitement knotted in shyness at the sound of the bell: they’re here.
I was always disappointed when we had to go to bed. The secret life of adults going on with the sound of laughs and glass clinkings travelling through the ceilings and into my bedroom. When I was finally old enough to stay up late and participate in the conversations, the toasts and the tastings, learning wines and food, I was thrilled and I wanted to impress. I always wanted to be an adult, I wanted to be interesting, I wanted to participate in the joyful gathering. I could not wait to, one day, be the host of my own dinner party.
/the last-minute dinner party/
It’s 5 pm on a Wednesday, it’s all very last minute as the forecast went from cloudy to sunny in the blink of an eye. I’ve had the menu in my head for weeks, waiting for a clearing and it’s perfect timing. I love last-minute plans, the ones you don’t overthink and jump right in, transforming the routine into an unknown evening. A tightly unscheduled trip to the supermarket, to the Italian deli down the street, to the wine merchant and of course I’ll try this one too, running late but it’s an exciting race. Start the fire, dress the garden table - some wildflowers will do.
In the kitchen, it’s all about transferring from one plastic packaging into tiny porcelain bowls. The glasses are mismatched and the cutlery has not shone in a long time but it’s the food that matters right? Oh and the company. In a delusional time capsule, I will attempt to make an untried recipe for a rhubarb pie. The bitterness flirting with the sugar of the meringue, it has to work - an ode to my mum who was always in charge of dessert. In any case, there's still tiramisu. My dad passed me his orange and timut pepper sauce recipe ‘so easy’ he said on the phone. Parties run in the family. I pick some edible flowers, spicy nasturtium, to balance the sweet orange and the smokiness of the barbecued shellfish.
At 7, the doorbell resonates through the house. I run down the stairs to welcome the guests. Out in the garden, the sun is still shining and the sky is slowly colouring from blue to tangerine. Here’s a coupe of limonata, a cocktail mixing prosecco and limoncello, I guarantee it’s refreshing. The night starts as we clink.
Now I want to host a dinner party. The trouble is convincing people to come over, everyone is always so “busy”
If you could host a perfect dinner party anywhere, where would it be, why ?
And how many people would you invite ?