Please say the 'perfect little dinner party' isn't passe
By ROBYN E. BLUMNER
Published July 27, 2003
I'm not sure when it happened. Was it when I turned 30 or before then? But at some point I went from enjoying parties with lots of people, where layered Mexican bean dip was considered fancy fare, to preferring the low-key intimacy of a quiet dinner party.
You might think this is a lead-in to talking about dinner-party-doyenne Martha Stewart's insider trading scandal, in which she's suspected of lining her pockets - no sewing required - to the detriment of other ImClone shareholders. But no, Martha only makes a cameo here because I believe she has contributed to the downturn in dinner parties. She has made entertaining intimidating, with her calligraphied place cards and from-the-garden pumpkin canapes. I remember watching one of her holiday specials where she built, not a gingerbread house mind you, but a gingerbread mansion with window panes made of clear, melted sugar, and I think it was wired to code.
But she can't be the entire reason for the collapse of the dinner party circuit. What happened to the days when parents had a standing appointment with a babysitter for Saturday night? When the weekend promised 10 guests - the limits of the table and silver service - an evening of verbal jousting, lubricated by cocktail shakers of Manhattans and Harvey Wallbangers (remember Galiano?) in a keeping-up-with-the-Jones' living room? Those days are seemingly gone.
Back in 1979 Miss Manners bemoaned the demise of the "perfect little dinner party," or the PLDP as she called it. Miss Manners blamed two possible causes: kitchen machines and sex. As to kitchen machines, she said "they have created impossibly high expectations in the food department." I guess "The Martha Syndrome" existed even before the real Martha had singed her first creme brule.
As for sex, Miss Manners complained the shagalicious mores of the '70s had complicated the "symmetry and predictability" of the dinner party guest list. According to Miss Manners, dinner parties have an essential boy-girl layout which can only be accommodated if the guests arrive in mixed pairs. And there was no reason to expect that the people invited to dinner two weeks out would still be a couple by the time the evening rolled around.
Today, gender balance in the guest list isn't as important. Men and women are far more casual about mixing in business and social settings, and a lopsided count is not much of a problem. No, the challenge for hosts these days is finding the right mix of interests and personalities. Pulling people together for an evening is an act of orchestration. Whom you choose depends on the sounds you want to create. Do you combine your Howard Dean-supporter friends with the one who is a Fox News junkie? It depends: Do you want Krakatoa or Kumbaya?
But this certainly doesn't explain why so few are willing to dip their toes into PLDP waters?
What I find most intriguing is the way we have designed our homes for entertaining and then don't. It seems every high-end kitchen now comes equipped with six-burner stoves, subzero refrigerators and two convection ovens - professional-style appliances that can cook meals for 20. Yet, today's answer to "what's for dinner?" is takeout. Home designers have virtually eliminated the formal living room, replacing it with the great room, combining the kitchen, den and dining area. This allows those preparing the meal to have access to guests without everyone crowding into a small kitchen. It is the perfect design answer to the classic dilemma for PLDP hosts, which has always been how to get the food and drinks out while still enjoying the company.
We are now better prepared to feed a crowd than we have been since the days when our cooking was done in an 30-pound stew-pot over an open fire pit, yet we still don't bother. Instead we meet our friends at restaurants - if at all - letting someone else worry about the food and cleanup. It is an understandable impulse. We are busy and entertaining is expensive. But what have we lost by giving up the personal touch? What happened to sampling others' favorite family recipes or enjoying another's creative efforts in pulling together an evening or being engaged by friends of friends? We may be more connected than ever by cell phone and e-mail, but do we know each other better?
Well, I'm fighting the trend by throwing a few PLDPs of my own. Don't expect gingerbread mansions or haute cuisine - I don't have the big stove or fridge. But the conversation will be unpredictable and lively, the food homespun and the cocktail shaker never quiet. In other words, a perfect evening.
