I have a nephew who likes to have special dinner parties. Not only is he an exceptional cook, but he also likes to create a theme around his gatherings. He’s invested in a round dining table that comfortably seats eight people making the occasions intimate and interesting. He brings out his finest china and creates food worthy of a five star chef. He would literally be able to write a book on how to entertain and probably should consider doing such a thing. 

For quite some time I have felt quite special each time he has invited us to his beautifully appointed home for one of his “fancies.” I felt that I should reciprocate but was never quite brave enough to ask an entertainer of his caliber to enjoy my more humble fare. Then one day I blurted out that I wanted him to come to my home for dinner for a change. I suppose he sensed that he needed to seize the invitation before I lost my courage and found excuses for cancelling. He quickly suggested that we meet only five days later if I was available. Even though I was a bit stunned, I heartily agreed and immediately began to worry that I had bitten off more than I might be able to chew. 

I spent the following day attempting to decide what to cook. I wanted something that I might prepare early in the day and then just pop out of the oven shortly after my nephew’s arrival. I found a fabulous recipe for a roast that would slow cook for hours along with vegetables. The only last minute cooking would involve preparing gravy. That sounded just right because I wanted to focus on my guests rather than be skittering about in the kitchen like a mad woman attempting to do multiple tasks at the same time. 

I cleaned my home from top to bottom so that it looked well kept and purposeful, if not worthy of a decorating magazine. My friend, Pat, had taught me that people feel more comfortable eating if the dust is gone, the floors are swept, and the kitchen looks pristine. I made sure that the garbage can was emptied and the disposal was not harboring some old remains that left a strange odor in the air. Step one in my planning was rather easily secured.

I decided to set a pretty table with a cloth, candles and chargers under my dishes. I took out my best water glasses and wine stems and used my white linen napkins that had been dutifully washed and ironed. The effect was lovely so step two seemed to be a success as well.

Meanwhile my entree was slowly filling the air with a delightful bouquet of spices. The timing of every aspect was under my control so I was even able to don makeup and a nice outfit to make me appear to be a composed and confident hostess. Still, I knew that the test of my efforts would come in the final execution of the tasting once we sat down together to eat. 

When I told my daughters who was coming to dinner they wished me luck and mentioned that I was brave to host such a gifted entertainer like my nephew. They mentioned that it would be like inviting Emeril to dinner. Then the eldest assured me that I was a good cook in my own right and that all would go well. 

The doorbell rang and there stood my nephew and his spouse. There were hugs all around and comments about how lovely my home was looking. We all sat for a time in the great room sipping on wine and then I excused myself to make the final preparations while they enjoyed a conversation with my husband and father-in-law. 

Everything was looking good so I announced that dinner was ready. We took our places around the table and the gayety continued as we filled our plates and began tasting my efforts at cooking. To my delight everything seemed perfect and the compliments began to flow. I felt less and less nervous as the clock ticked. When my guests went back for second helpings I knew that I had succeeded. Nobody was just being polite. They actually liked what I had made. 

We never left the table that evening. The conversations went on and on and everyone was having a very good time. Even the dessert which was store bought apple strudel seemed to be a hit. Best of all there was a high level of comfort that filled the air. My father-in-law who generally excuses himself to go to bed no later than nine at night, stayed through the extended evening. 

We said our goodbyes after eleven and expressed our wish to enjoy such an evening again. We already have a date on the calendar for later this month. I felt good as I tossed the plates and utensils and cookware into the dishwasher and wiped down the countertops. I may not be a five star level hostess but I had put together a very successful party. It finally occurred to me that all of it was more about the people who were there than any skills I might possess or lack. Gathering at a table is one of the most intimate activities that we humans do. It is the stuff of memories and love.