Mother's Theory Of Entertaining

From my earliest days, I have vivid memories of my parents leaving our house for a party, with a swoosh of perfume and aftershave in their wakes, as they put on their hats and coats (yes, they did), and closed the door, leaving us urchins behind while they had a really good time somewhere else. We were asleep when they returned, and, in retrospect, that was probably just as well.

I also remember the activity in the house when they entertained, and that was often. We children were discouraged from being underfoot, but invariably, when the party had begun and the first round of drinks served, we would be “invited” in to meet the guests…probably about as much fun for them as it was for us.

“Shake the other person’s hand firmly and look them in the eye,” was my mother’s eleventh commandment. My father’s advice was somewhat more self-serving. When we were about to attend an afternoon wedding and reception thereafter, he always said, “Get through the receiving line and then look for the shrimp – there won’t be any dinner here tonight.”

My mother loved to entertain, and my father loved to tell stories. It was a grand combination, and they had wonderful parties….sometimes cocktails and hors d’oeuvres, sometimes a small dinner party, and sometimes something a bit larger. Good food, good drink, and in those days, lots of tobacco smoke throughout. The chatter was fast and loud and never about the Hegelian dialectic or strategies to achieve world peace, and there were jokes, lots and lots of jokes.

Mother believed that one should never have a quantity of chairs equal to the number of guests, except at dinner when she admitted it was a convenience. More importantly, she believed that having the same group time after time became boring, so she was always on the lookout for a new person or couple to help change the rhythm of the evening.

My father insisted that there was always something playing on the phonograph – Bobby Short, Lotte Lenya, the latest Broadway or West End smash hit or anything by Cole Porter.

Having been around those parties – or to be somewhat more accurate – being in bed above those parties, whatever I learned about entertaining was by osmosis.

This holiday season I gave a few parties and attended several, and the cumulative result of those experiences, compressed into a few weeks, was that I thought it was time to reflect and to redefine my notion of a good social gathering. I have peaked out on the “hi how are ya – gee it’s nice to see ya – we gotta get together soon” events” and have recommitted myself to small groups not exceeding six total.

That way, you have a conversation which involves every one, so it’s a real conversation, not the string of party clichés you dig out of the closet regularly. And as host, I don’t have to tear around the kitchen in a rush – in fact, nothing is as intense as it seems to be when you have a real crowd on hand.

We’re starting this revisionist strategy slowly, with a small group on the occasional Sunday afternoon – tea at four, sherry about 5:30, and a bowl of soup and dessert a bit later on. The first attempt went very well – I learned new things from and about people I’d known for years and years – it was both relaxing and energizing. I had a great time, and I think others were pleased by the experience.

On the other hand, I’m not sure my parents would have liked it very much. No, I know they wouldn’t have.

Not their kind of conversation or the preferred kind of music, but more importantly... no shrimp!

Happy entertaining!