Why I don't give dinner parties anymore
Once again guest poster John Lindner has come up with a subject I wish I had thought of first. Times have really changed. My solution? I don't give dinner parties anymore. Here's John. EL
Do you host dinner parties? If so, have you ever, while planning the menu, stressed over whether your guests have food phobias, allergies, religious affliations (vegan, vegetarian, pescatarian, white-meat only) or other assorted intolerances? How do you plan? Do you call them?
"Hey, any objection to roasted cute things? Tortured geese? Seared Flipper?" ...
I was recently reminded on this very blog that I ought not to spill alcohol into the recipe without checking. But what if you don't know? I have a vague recollection of almost killing a guy with a cookie because it never occurred to me to warn him that it contained nuts.
"Nuts? Nuts can kill you?"
Checking for allergies and even preferences for red meat, chicken or fish isn't difficult. But what about the "moral" questions? I know my type is going the way of chest hair, but even I am considering never touching another forkful of chicken unless I know for absolute certain the little clucker wasn't raised in a lunch-pail sized cage.Does that make me an undesirable dinner guest? (Frankly, if it smelled good enough, I'd eat it and live with the guilt.) How would I convey that to my host?
"Hey, you didn't buy this squab from an avian torture chamber, didja?"
The last time I cooked for guests whose preferences and affiliations were unknown to me, I asked them what they couldn't/didn't eat. They said they could/would eat anything. Is it always that easy?
What does "I'll eat anything" mean coming from a vegan? Have you ever not invited someone because of their vast spectrum of danger foods? Are hosting dinner parties getting more complicated? And how'm I supposed to know if the tuna was caught in a frickin' dolphin-safe net?
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