Dinner on the Terrace?

It’s hard to plan a good dinner party in the age of Facebook.

We’re all so carefully casual about our plans. Cell phones have taught us everything can be last minute—a quick text directs your friend to “meet us here” or “I’m running late.” Facebook has taught us that every occasion is best RSVPed to with a “Maybe Attending.”

So I plan not a real dinner party—“just a few people over for wine and food” and get a few positives and a handful of “Maybe Attendings” in return.

Then there’s the menu. Hard to plan without a certain guest list, but the main problem here, for me, at least, is overstimulation. I’m surrounded by food porn—glowing from the TV, a click away on the internet, making me drool from the glossy pages of cookbooks, which I’ve started checking out of the library (even memoirs are trending towards food porn these days). I don’t know where to begin. Simple, tried-and-true recipe or something new, complicated, dazzling (as long as it turns out, that is)? Exotic or plain (really depends on the crowd)? Indian, Cajun, Italian (depressingly, I have a friend who doesn’t like cheese), Tapas, French, Asian, Moroccan, Noveau-American?

Tonight, I’m thinking something light, summer fare. Maybe an array of appetizers (starting with bruschetta, of course) followed by a light, citrusy spinach salad with chicken. Washed down by a couple liters of wine.

Then again, there’s that lamb dish I’ve been longing to try. I’ve never cooked lamb before.

Why I Throw Parties

I suppose a more appropriate title may be: 'Why Throw Parties?'

What makes a successful party? I know no way to measure it. I just know that, no matter how amazing the party, I always feel something lacking at the end. I always worry other people aren't truly enjoying themselves. I always worry I'm not truly enjoying myself.

Parties are stressful. The set up and clean up time is far longer than any good times the party may or may not produce. It's like one of those dreaded holidays- New Year's, St. Patrick's Day, Valentine's Day, one of those holidays where the pressure to have fun is almost overwhelming- except you yourself have created it and welcomed it into your own home with welcome arms. Why would you do that?

And yet, if you asked me, I would say I quite like throwing parties. Why? Why do this to myself? Is it the masochistic streak? Am I using these parties as a creative outlet (for, surely, my parties are often a work of art)?

I don't know.

They're a toss up. They might be crap, they might be the best thing ever. Maybe it's the thrill of being the possible architecht of so many good times. Maybe it's just showing off: look at my pretty home, taste my excellent food, and (in my case) check out my amazing costume.

Don't know.

On a slightly related note, I'm starting to have a slight Dan Rydell complex, and I don't know where that came from. Don't know from whence that came.

Obligatory (It's Been Too Long Since I) Post(ed)

Hullo, blog. Long time no see.

I came back from Spring Break on Monday and was absolutely thrilled to see the city on the horizon. I'm missing home (which happens every time I come back to NYC), but I also feel like I'm back home. It took seven months.

I'm trying to watch LOST right now, but my roommates keep talking. We're trying to plan the theme for our next party. We're thinking Puritans. Ankles will be sexy, and we'll sit around quietly judging each other.

And of course, whenever I think of Puritans, I think of how my friends and I once used a copy of The Scarlet Letter as a massive insult. Well, we tried.

And that is all for this blog.