My First Dinner Party… Let’s Just Call It a Learning Experience

More than twenty years ago during my freshmen year, my high school had a nationally ranked football team and our games were atop the social calendar for our insulated private school set.  I watched the last game of the year from the sidelines with about .001% chance of playing but just being there was a big deal to my freshman pride.  I may have even bragged about it to Karen from my church youth group.  Not because I liked Karen in a check box yes___ no____ kind of way, but because I hoped she would bring her best friend Sloan. 

Karen came; Sloan was in tow and they had seats next to my buddy Jamal who rapidly began crushing on Karen.  The game ended with a victory for our team and a predictably clean uniform for me.  It took me twenty minutes or so to find them afterwards and Sloan’s father had already arrived to collect the two girls from the dangerous grounds of a football game at an all boys high school.  No matter, the groundwork was set.

In the smooth and nuanced manner of 9th grade courtship, it only took another seven weeks for us to arrange a date.  Friday night dinner party at my place – fine, my folk’s place if you want to be snippy – was the plan Jamal and I hatched over lunch one day.  It was the perfect invitation for 14 year old girls who couldn’t “date” but were allowed to go to parties.  Invitations were sent, menu was planned and my mother had agreed to be mostly scarce that evening.


When the snow started falling Thursday night, I was overjoyed at the prospect of having a snow day to do my shopping, set the table, and make bbq shrimp spring rolls, chicken teriyaki, and mini chocolate cupcakes.  School was cancelled as expected and I gleefully trudged through the snow to the grocery store – still oblivious to the obviously pending cancellation.  Jamal – equally oblivious/optimistic – trekked to my place on public transportation in time enough to help me make dinner.

First course was to hit the table at 7:30.  Karen who was spending the night at Sloan’s called at 7:15 to indicate that they were on their way.  As there were almost nine inches of snow on the ground, apparently optimism wasn’t limited to the bi-chromosomal.  At 7:25, I dropped the spring rolls in the fryer knowing that our dates were going to walk through the door at any second.  Adhering to my plan I started the stir-fry going in the wok at 7:35 at the same time Karen called again saying that they were leaving right now.  I made some minor cooking adjustments because Sloan lives less than two miles away surely they would be walking through the door any second.

While Sloan and her father negotiated about the wisdom of driving on partly cleared streets for the next hour, I kept trying to slow cook, and re-hydrate dishes that were rapidly drying out.  Eventually the charms of the daughter defeated the resolve of the father and Karen and Sloan finally made it to dinner over an hour late and with a strict 11:00 pick-up time. 

Without the benefit of a microwave (I’m not that old, but my mother was that old-fashioned,) I dropped the spring rolls in oil enough times that when we finally ate them so much grease ran down our hands that we ruined an extra set of Mom’s good cloth napkins.  Not yet understanding the sodium content of teriyaki sauce and trying to prevent the chicken from drying, I kept re-saucing.  The second course tasted like a spoonful of salt with every bite.  The four of us – determined to have our adult moment – made our way through the first two courses while making conversation about anything other than the grease fountain or salt mountain I had just served.


That night I learned my first lessons in culinary timing, a lesson about sauces, and the lesson of the magical powers of chocolate over women.  Thank god we made it to the cupcakes because after the sweets Jamal and I both made it to second base.


11 Responses to My First Dinner Party… Let’s Just Call It a Learning Experience

  1. brookem says:

    that’s quite impressive though, for serious. the cooking i mean. i guess and the boob handling as well. nice work.

    but oh gawd, the food was bad.

  2. Sara says:

    “don’t fry until your guest arrive” should come printed on any good frying oil. Live and learn… and please share the recipe for your bbq shrimp spring rolls.

    I haven’t made that dish in years – I will either recreate with the few brain cells that haven’t been compromised and send you an email, or I will make this dish this weekend and post pictures and a recipe next week.

  3. Fearless says:

    Never underestimate the power of one single, perfect cupcake.

    Never I think it had something to do with the fact that they were mini (two bites for the dainty) and chocolate.

  4. kathleen says:

    nowhere to go but up.

    My second dinner party was so much better, but I didn’t really hit my dinner party stride until second year of university. It took me that long to discover that for multiple guests tried and true trumped the experiment. Since then, I have a gained a greater understanding of my skills and flavors such to understand the distinction between a dish that is being cooked for the first time and an experiment.

  5. Liebchen says:

    I’m pretty impressed that you were making a menu like that in 9th grade. I’m pretty sure that all the guys I knew still thought that McDonald’s was gourmet at that point. (Maybe Arby’s or Wendy’s, you know, to really class it up.)

    If you ever were to meet my mother for more than ten minutes, she would tell a story of me starting to cook circa age 4. Entertaining through food is just in my DNA.

  6. f.B says:

    boobs, even if oily boobs, is quite the accomplishment, sir. well done.

    though wait: if your hands were oily… was it a dead give away when they got home and had fingerprints in special places on their sweaters?

    There were napkins and hand washing prior to the over the sweater feel-up action.

  7. Vittoria says:

    is it wrong that something that greasy sounds amazingly good?

    my first dinner party was in 8th grade and the boy made chicken that had marinated in lemon juice and garlic salt. i was so impressed. still am, kind of.

    Is it wrong, no – just part of your considerable charms… and whatever happened to the 8th grade boy with the kitchen skills?

  8. carrie m says:

    the last time a date cooked for me, he overcooked over-frozen steak and served asparagus…from a can. I’d rather go to your 15 year old dinner party! Oh, and the aforementioned date definitely didn’t get to second base.

    Seriously?!?! Did you at least get a good blog post from the train wreck of a meal?

  9. LiLu says:

    The second course tasted like a spoonful of salt with every bite.

    I just got moist.

    You have issues, my dear, big, scary, lovable, endearing, make me cackle aloud issues.

  10. Vittoria says:

    well, last i checked he’s a half a foot shorter than me. shortly after the chicken, he moved to tennessee and we have not spoken much since. le sigh.

    But doesn’t food transcend height, or is that a question only a sub six footer would ask?

  11. Vittoria says:

    it does, but not when he lives that far away. also, i’m 5’6, so, it’s not like he’s 5’5. no offense to the 5’0 men in the world, but that’s shorter than my gynmast cousin.

    I have long said that I don’t take people out of my dating pool for genetic factors over which one has no control; but even I give you a pass for not wanting to date a five foot nothing guy.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: