How to Host a Dinner Party (12 page)

THE DOOR

H 
 osting is a performance. That doesn’t mean you’re being a phony, but there is, by necessity, some theatricality to the evening. When the doorbell rings, it’s showtime. By spending the last thirty or even ten minutes with the Early Birds, you should be eased into character, rather than having the curtain suddenly raised while you’re still in makeup.

The average dinner party has a pace, a flow, that we settle into once people have found their places and been served some food and wine. The first fifteen minutes are the most important fifteen minutes of the evening and can make or break the night.

My apartment is on the third floor. This means running down the stairs when I hear the doorbell, slowly making my way back up with my guests, pausing as they remove their shoes on the second-floor landing, then, just as I’ve taken their coats, running back downstairs as the bell rings again.

The Early Birds — the friends you’ve been relaxing with for the last little while — will now become Helping Hands, integral players in the next act. These characters perform three critical roles:

1. 1.
   Just being present. A lot of guests, on arrival, ask, “Are we the first ones here?” Often they ask this with an implied anxiety, as if there were something dreadful to being on time, or the idea of a one-on-one conversation is too much pressure. Just seeing that someone else is already there will put them at ease.
   
2. 2.
   Depending on how many guests you’re expecting and whether or not you have stairs between you and the front door, these fifteen minutes can be a whirlwind. The doors, coats, introductions, and drinks can come so fast that a host starts to feel like Lucy in the chocolate factory, with a conveyor belt of greetings coming at her. The Helping Hands need little prodding. Just a simple, “Could you … ?” and they’re off to get the door. Many guests, once they’re regulars, start doing this without being prompted.
   
3. 3.
   Ask an audience member for improv suggestions and they draw a blank. But once the crowd starts shouting out “Iceland! Pirates! Singles Bingo!” everyone wants in on the action. The same thing goes for conversation. When guests start arriving and find that there is already a couple in the living room arguing away over municipal politics, traffic, whether
   Tron
   has any value beyond nostalgia for eighties nerd children, they’ll be in the mood to talk, too. Conversation can be a highway. You are a merging lane.
   

When the doorbell rings, remember that different people need different amounts of attention. You are always happy to see your close friends, but those you haven’t met before — spouses of friends, partners, associates — need more of the host’s attention. They are in a new environment, with new people. They need to feel welcome and engaged. Take their coats ahead of others. Get them a drink first. If George’s wife is uncomfortable, then George is uncomfortable. Put her at ease. When she is seated, with a glass of wine in her hand, smiling, you will see the ripple of relaxation spread outward.

A LATENESS TIMETABLE

While it is to a host’s advantage to be ready thirty minutes before dinner, a guest should arrive on time, and no more than ten minutes early.

A friend told me he once had guests show up thirty minutes early. He sent them away, and told them to come back in half an hour. He is my hero. The host is not expected to be actually ready half an hour ahead of schedule. It can throw someone totally off of their game to suddenly have to socialize when there are still last-minute tasks to be done.

Lateness is also rude, but it is acceptable, understandable, and forgivable if tardy people take responsibility for their behaviour. If you believe you will arrive late, let your host know as soon as possible. If dinner is for 7:00, calling at 7:15 to say you are going to be late is not only factually inaccurate, but grounds for dismissal. Calling at 6:45 can buy you all the time in the world.

If you’re not certain just how serious the infraction is, consult this handy tardiness timetable:

FIVE TO TEN MINUTES EARLY
= Acceptable

PUNCTUALITY
= Ideal

FIVE MINUTES LATE
= The discrepancy between two watches, not worth mentioning

TEN MINUTES LATE
= A trifle, easily the result of a missed train, slow elevator, or difficulty in finding a parking spot

FIFTEEN MINUTES LATE
= Worth a minor “I’m sorry,” which will be forgotten just as quickly

TWENTY MINUTES
= You should have called ahead to announce your impending lateness; if not, a light apology is needed

TWENTY-FIVE MINUTES
= An apology and explanation are needed

THIRTY MINUTES
= An apology and explanation are needed; expect your host to be upset, though he or she should not show it; try to make up for it later with a gift, or take your friend to lunch

A Chilean guest once told me that none of this counts in her home country, that in Chile it would be rude to show up on time, so if you are in Chile, disregard this.

Lateness puts hosts in an awkward position. Once a guest is twenty minutes late without calling, you as a host are not happy about it. However, whether friends are unconscionably early or late, do not show your annoyance. You are still a host, and a host must occasionally swallow certain indignities in aid of the guests’ enjoyment. This goes for corked wine, spilled wine, spilled milk, tardy guests, dishes that didn’t turn out how you expected, being asked “When are you going to get married? When are you going to have children?”, broken glasses, muddy shoes, stinky feet, cigarette breath, re-regifted wine, cutoff shorts, a guest who spoils the season finale of a show you haven’t watched yet, etc.

If you don’t like the way a guest behaves, you can always tell the person later, or simply not invite him or her again, but don’t spoil everyone else’s time by having it out at the table. If you call out someone’s bad behaviour in front of others, it will only make everyone uncomfortable. The needs of the many must come before the one or the few.

THE FIRST DRINK

 
 With all due respect to recovering addicts (a good half of my family), alcohol is the grease that keeps the gears of society moving, so get everyone a drink as soon as possible. Yes, there are coats and purses to tuck away and introductions to make. But don’t be ambushed by the detour of putting flowers in a vase. Ask someone else to do that.

The worst thing a host can do at this point is to be too busy to pour drinks. Many times when I have been among the guests at a dinner party, the host has simply left us alone while he or she fiddled with the stove, chopped garlic, or emailed questions about a recipe. Once I arrived at a dinner to find the host insisting that everyone join him in the kitchen while he peeled potatoes. Fine, I said, so long as I get to drink while you do it.

We spent all that time planning and prepping so that when our guests arrive, we can look after their needs, rather than our own.

The easiest thing is to get them a drink without asking if they want one. Try, “What can I get you to drink?” Do not ask, “Can I get you a drink?” Of course you can. Maybe things work differently in the real world, but in Canada, people are so deferential and polite that they’ll pass up the offer of a drink. Balderdash. Everyone wants a drink of some sort.

The usual response from guests is, “What are you drinking?” It’s a good idea to have a bottle of wine already open, as they’ll be less likely to refuse. Let them know you’ve got a red and a white open. There are people who think that opening a bottle is tantamount to rewriting a living will.

THE SHOE DILEMMA

Shoes on or off? This is up to the host. In my home, I ask people to take their shoes off only if it’s raining or snowing, otherwise I like my guests to have the dignity of wearing their shoes, which probably go with their outfit. But I’ve got floors that are easy to sweep and mop. If you’ve got carpeting, that’s a different story. To many North Americans, it would be unthinkable to ask guests to remove their shoes. In Japan it would be inconceivable to enter a house wearing outside shoes. Guests, respect your hosts’ shoe rules.

If guests are expected to remove their shoes, have a place for it. Respect the footwear. Don’t let shoes be piled on top of each other.

If a guest is truly opposed to removing shoes, he or she will bring slippers. Yes, I have had guests do this and it is basically the cutest thing ever. Everyone makes fun of them a bit and then says, “Why didn’t I think of that?” But don’t linger on it. Consider that this person may be a germaphobe or may suffer from an uncontrollable foot odour problem.

If guests bring you cold beer, that probably means they like to drink beer, so offer them one. Too many people think that, as grown-ups, they’re expected to drink wine even if they don’t like it.

Then there are the guests who will ask for a cocktail. It’s usually something basic, a vodka tonic or a rye and ginger. If you’ve got the ingredients, make it. If not, don’t apologize. Just suggest something else. If you’ve got the ingredients but don’t want to make it or are too busy, pretend that you don’t have the ingredients.

In my experience, the type of person who exclusively drinks vodka tonics is likely suffering from a dash of alcoholism and a pinch of OCD, so he or she has probably brought the ingredients. If people ask for water, do not chastise them for being a baby. It could be hot outside. They may have cycled over. They could be nursing a hangover. Whatever the reason, don’t ask. Just get them a glass of water.