Pink of Perfection

Many people hear the word “entertaining” and seize up with panic. Monthly articles in high-maintenance food and shelter magazine articles have encouraged many of us to think that entertaining is an opportunity for a host to flex her culinary muscles and impress her guests. Throwing a party has become synonymous for many with fussing over canapés, making awkward introductions all night long, and being left with a kitchen overflowing with dishes.

A couple of months ago, geared up from the pre-holiday fervor of stress and perfection, I got the idea into my head to throw a properly French dinner party. This involved, unfortunately, spending too much money, and attempting too many recipes I had never tried before. The night before the party, I was up until 2 AM simmering boeuf bourguignon and wanting to call the whole thing off. When my guests (who at this point I seemed to have forgotten were my dear friends) arrived, I was trying desperately to whip up some gougères, sweating entirely too much for a December evening, and feeling downright resentful. I was a mess and the evening was, to put it mildly, not my finest hour.

I had unwittingly broken all my own rules for having company, which until that moment I didn’t realize were my rules: Keep things simple, unpretentious, and comfortably within your budget. Throw the party you would want to go to. Remember that you’ve invited people you love — treat your guests dearly. Relax, smile, and most importantly, have fun.

To me, being the hostess means you can surround yourself with the people of your own choosing (no dreading if so-and-so will be there), you eat and drink what you like, and you can wear terribly impractical shoes. Entertaining should be fun, after all, since what’s motivated the endeavor is wanting to be with people we love. And without getting totally high-minded about it, entertaining can be a great act of generosity: you create for those nearest and dearest to you an evening of community and pleasure.

I made amends with my friends (and myself) by throwing a cocktail party. There were no cheese puffs. There were however, cookies, brownies, lots of chips and salsa, and a spinach artichoke dip that feels fantastically low-brow to make and vanishes faster than Houdini. I had not stayed up late the previous evening putting together party favors, but I had mixed up plenty of strong, fruity sangria. And I had finished what minor preparations there were a few minutes before people arrived. Which meant I had ten minutes to myself to relax, shake my hips to some bossa nova, and have a drink. Which is, come to think of it, my last and most important rule.

Sangria for a Party
makes 10 cups

1 bottle acceptable red wine
2 1/4 cup orange juice
1 cup triple sec
1 cup apricot brandy
1 cup sprite

Pour ingredients into a big pitcher. Drop in some seasonal fruit (I floated a few thin slices of orange on top). Serve over ice.

Spinach Artichoke Dip
Makes about 4 cups

1 14 ounce can quartered artichoke hearts, chopped
1 10 ounce box frozen spinach, defrosted
3/4 cup sour cream
1/2 cup mayonnaise
1/2 cup grated parmesan cheese
1 garlic clove, minced
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice

Squeeze the excess water out of the spinach by placing on a few layers of paper towels (or a dish towel) and wringing. Stir together artichoke hearts, spinach, mayonnaise, garlic, lemon juice and most of the cheese in a ceramic baking dish. Sprinkle the remaining cheese over the top. Bake in a 350 degree F oven for 30-40 minutes, until bubblingly hot and cheese on top is melted. Serve with crackers, celery sticks, or tortilla chips.