Eating With Friends
notes on throwing a small dinner party
In general, I don’t identify with the term “fancy” as it relates to a specific type I have in mind. To wit, I don’t wear much makeup, I don’t get my hair highlighted, I use a curling iron twice a year, and a blow-dryer even less often. I wear and re-wear the same outfits ad nauseum, have basically ousted any shoes that aren’t comfortable from my closet, and don’t know a single thing about wine. I don’t get manicures, I don’t like designer handbags, I have no use for trendy things like Stanley cups and Lulu Lemon leggings. I could care less about late nights out and mini dresses and being the “It Girl” and though I’m well-liked by most people, I’m not the high-school understanding of “popular.” I drive an old car. I use an outdated model iPhone and nothing about a “bottomless mimosa brunch” excites me. I don’t get facials, extensions, false eyelashes, micro-needling, or blow-outs. I don’t go to hot yoga, I don’t cold-plunge, I don’t know the first thing about applying contour.
But not being a fancy girl in no way means I’m not a bougie one. I like colored taper candles and snacks from Trader Joe’s. I want clean-ingredient cosmetics, and the rare piece of clothing I do buy is increasingly sustainably-made and eco-conscious ($$$). I stop by a non-alcoholic shop for bottled drinks that are priced with the best of the booze. I prefer low-waste companies. I like listening to jazz, and deep-cuts of little-known artists. I like reading physical books because I think a person looks six times more interesting while reading a book than reading a Kindle. I prefer coffees made by a barista, and have a different favorite coffee shop depending on what I’m drinking (Kobros for cappuccinos, always). I like to window shop at a blend of antique stores, the artsy dregs of Pinterest, and Anthropologie. When peonies are in season I will buy a bunch just to watch them slowly unfurl into strawberry milk pom-poms. I avoid Walmart (because of the vibes) and Amazon (because of the ethics). I like to buy fresh salmon instead of frozen, and wince when it isn’t wild-caught. I like to hang out in places that “remind me of Europe,” a place to which I’ve been. I drink filtered water, wear Blundstones and Birkenstocks, and am holding out on buying a bicycle till I can afford a vintage-looking model.
I love being a woman and I fully own up to the small vices of my preference and taste. The ways I’m a fancy girl fall into one main category: I find places where normal life can be made a little extra beautiful, a little more exciting, and I spend time there. Life is inherently beautiful and exciting, but yellow candles in a blue holder will remind me of the fact, and I revel in this. So it’s no surprise to me that throwing the occasional dinner party is a delightful high point in my year.
I’m all about real hospitality, and the fact that it really doesn’t have to look anything at all like a dinner party. Hospitality can be making space for a friend at your pizza + laundry-folding party. It can be showing up with a crockpot to a neighbor’s doorstep and offering condolences. It can be sitting with a depressed friend and making sure they drink that whole glass of water. It can be sitting with the new person at church. Real hospitality doesn’t rely on showmanship, literal party tricks, or how good the food tastes.
But real hospitality can have those things if they delight you! There’s no law that says fake hospitality is fancy dinners and real hospitality is the simpler stuff. Both? Either? If the heart is to serve and bless your guests, I don’t think you can go wrong.
And as the bougie girl I am, the fancy bits delight me. I love the ceremony of laying a table with a cloth, dishes, flowers, candles. This could be because in our current configuration, Andrew and I eat side by side in the living room on folding TV tables. There’s no ceremony to our dinners. There’s little elegance.
So I enjoy rearranging my living room, borrowing a folding table, dragging chairs from the kitchen, and moving the record player to make room for a dish of salty snacks to pick at while guests arrive. I enjoy scattering vases of flowers everyplace, and thinking of where you’d potentially want to set your glass down, then having a coaster already placed there. I like leaving a couple tasks undone and begging help from my friends: will you portion the chicken? Will you slice these lemons? I love turning on a pre-made playlist and hoping for the best, pouring drinks and watching my friends lift fizzing coupe glasses. I love tossing a salad by hand and arranging it on a platter with pieces of carefully sliced winter citrus. I love the way the taper candles burn from tall wands to glowing stubs over the course of an evening, the flames sparking lights in a glass held aloft. I love how conversation blossoms between former strangers from that very first handshake to the breathless laughter by the time dessert comes around.
The thing is, it isn’t about the fanciness. It’s about the enchantment you (as a host) have an opportunity to spin: a safe, beautiful, set apart, sacred place to be together. The good industry of spinning a web of food, ambiance, space, and selected guests is an important task. I want everyone who sits at our table to forget that time exists, or that life can be harsh. I want to refresh souls as well as bodies. I want those who come in to feel welcomed, and those who leave to feel sustained. And yes, while reality is always present with us, I also want dinner parties to be a bit of magical escapism. A time where, for a moment, we have a reprieve from sadness, worry, or complexities beyond this meal. Maybe that’s the Enneagram Seven in me, but I think it’s also a gift of those like me: we feast in the presence of every reason not to, and we don’t stop to question the act. Time is our most precious commodity, and so I’m honored by the amount of time these friends offer up to come to a dinner. I’m so thankful for the four or six or eight people who have elbowed space into their lives to gather. It’s holy to me.
In 2024 I hope for many opportunities to host! If you are looking for reasons, ways, or inspiration for how to have a do-able dinner party, I thought I’d recap some of the things we talked through on Instagram this weekend as I prepared for this first party of the year. My hope is that sharing this information will help give you the confidence to know that you absolutely can have people over, no matter your space, budget, or otherwise.
Dinner Party Common Sense:
Worry: But I am an introvert.
Solution: Having people in your own space is actually a really great way to maneuver through a social occasion! I think even introverts want to be known and loved, and having people in your own home is a beautiful way to moderate that process. You hate large groups? Invite three people over to share dinner with you. A table of four is manageable and hardly qualifies as a party: perfect for those with quieter social desires.
Worry: I don’t have the energy/skill to cook.
Solution: I remember reading the brilliant advice in a Kate Spade dinner party cookbook (of all things) that you should always feel free to have your menu be Chinese takeout on pretty dishes. Not only does this sound delicious (Judy’s takeout in particular for all you locals), but achievable nearly anywhere in the continental US. Chinese takeout, pizza, Indian food, etc. Anything can be a dinner party when you plate it right.
Worry: I have a small house.
Solution: Much like the Room of Requirement in Harry Potter, homes seem to open up to fit who they need to. I like to factor in the amount of people I have seats for. If a there’s a place to sit (couch or chair), I can reasonably assume that we can figure out the table situation for that many people. In my thousand square foot house (half of which is upstairs and therefore not factored in), that figure is about eight adults, max. At a milling-around party, or a party with added children, we could fit a tight dozen?
Worry: I don’t have a big table.
Solution: Neither do I! I often put out an APB on social media, asking to borrow a folding table from someone. Someone always comes through, but in the event they don’t, I’ve also been known to host 4-6 people on a hybrid couch/floor/coffee table plan. Significantly less comfortable once you’re age 30+, but doable if you’re flexible or young.
Worry: My dishes/cups/napkins don’t match.
Solution: Embrace the hodge-podge. It’s more charming than you realize to show up and see lived-in looking tableware. Very few people have space or desire to keep a formal place setting for twelve these days. When I have a mismatched number of guests and tableware, I like to make an even split and scatter the styles throughout the table. Alternate plate colors, or glass shapes. Play into the mismatch with the flowers or candles you choose. In fact, I’ve grown to love the organic look of a set table that is playfully unscripted.
Worry: I am on a tight budget.
Solution: Make something you’d fix for your family, but a slightly elevated version of that thing. I’ve found that the bit about dinner parties that we love best is not so much what we are eating as how. I am also on a budget, and I chose to make soup, a chicken, and a salad for this party. The snacks were nearly all made from things I already had on hand (nuts, coconut crisps, dried figs, etc.). If you can only splurge in one area, I’d recommend a couple bundles of fresh herbs to jazz up your usual recipe, one nice hunk of cheese as an appetizer, or fresh flowers for the room/table.
Worry: Who do I invite?
Solution: The self-propelled energy of the right mix of people is something I really love. Without adhering too strictly to it, I try to make sure each party is composed of people who know at least one other person besides me, but who don’t already know every single guest. This keeps it from feeling claustrophobic and cliquish, and also serves to form new friendships among the group! I think new friends are like moving water: they keep things in a social group from getting stagnant.
Worry: What if people are offended they weren’t invited?
Solution: I like to remind myself (and others) that this is not the only event I will ever host. A dinner party is not meant to bring together every single human you know and love. That would be something else entirely - a rave, maybe? I see dinner parties as being a way to scoop up one small handful of the people I care about at a time and create a golden memory together. My dinner parties are also not a popularity contest - the mix of people is seldom repeated in the exact same way, and any netted group of friends is set free after our evening to mix back into the koi pond which is my social life. I don’t invite people based off favorite rankings, but out of a sense of who I can connect with whom, the people I haven’t seen in ages, those who are moving away soon, etc.
Worry: I don’t have enough time to host a dinner.
Solution: Make a list of everything that needs doing and scatter it through the days leading up to the party! I like washing special dishes/linens, deep cleaning, and doing flowers two days in advance, and prepping as much food as possible one day in advance. Then all that remains for the day-of is reconfiguring furniture, setting the table, and doing the last-minute cleaning like the bathroom and vacuuming, along with the final cook on the food. If you’re hosting with a partner or friend, this is made even easier by splitting the workload. Andrew helped make French onion soup but was otherwise out of pocket for this particular party.
Thank you to the friends who have, over the years, entrusted me with their evenings. I look forward to gathering with so many more of you through the coming months. If you’d be interested in some form of dinner party club, let’s talk! We could agree on recipes and cook together. It could be fun. For now, here’s the menu from last night’s Midwinter Dinner and its theme of “Light Breaking Through The Dark.”
Appetizers:
olives
coconut crisps
dried figs
mixed nuts
Dinner:
French onion soup from Mastering The Art of French Cooking by Julia Child
Gougeres (cheese puffs) from A Boat, A Whale, And A Walrus by Renee Erickson
A spatch-cocked roast chicken (freestyled)
A winter salad with citrus, endive, fennel, almonds (freestyled)
Dessert:
I enjoyed this so much! Thanks for all the tips. :) I appreciate how you encourage people to make hosting doable for them and then to just do it! My sister and I recently threw a small dinner party that we decided to host six days in advance of the dinner. :D It was a blast, and we definitely want to have more dinner parties. I learned that I should do more prep ahead of time, ;) but everything worked out okay. I also loved your tip about leaving tasks for the guests. I think that facilitates a more open and connected atmosphere from the get-go.
A fun food note: we roasted a whole cauliflower (our first time trying!) because we both stumbled across the recipe separately and thought it would be great to try sometime. A dinner party seemed the perfect time to try it, and then we ended up building the rest of our meal around that side dish. :D https://www.sandravalvassori.com/whole-roasted-cauliflower/
Thank you for showing us how to make dinner parties more accessible! My problem is often overthinking it instead of just inviting. Like the bread and fishes- there’s always enough.