A few weeks ago, the snow and cold of our winter days drove me in desperation and self preservation to issue an email cry of help to some of our friends, in the guise of a games night invitation. It was to be a potluck dinner, my favorite kind of meal planning! I am one of those people who really loves the idea of cooking. I love to browse through the aisles of stores like Stokes, or any other store that carries items pertaining to the kitchen or entertaining. I am fascinated by kitchen gadgetry! I often think to myself, now if I had that handy little gadget, I'm sure I could turn my plain ordinary "hit or miss" fare into a culinary masterpiece. Perhaps then I could meet the stringent ambiguous standards within my mind.
My mother is a fabulous cook, as was my late mother-in-law. Mom would come home from a day that began at 5:00 a.m. in the morning, returning from work at around 6:30 pm (three hours of commuting a day!), and somehow throw together a meal that always tasted exceptional, and looked exquisite. My mother-in-law had one of those ovens we fondly remembered as the magical oven. The food that came from within its depths never seemed to end! Commuting home to Princeton from New York everyday, there were days our car would display a mind of its own, and before we knew it, we would find ourselves in the driveway of my in-laws home. This by the way, was well before I married my husband, our families having been close family friends for years. My mother-in-law always seemed to have enough food not only to feed her husband and three sons, but whoever dropped by their home on the whim of a car! Both my mom and my mother-in-law entertained guests almost every weekend of my growing up years, or so it seemed. I always thought I would inherit my mothers cooking abilities, thinking it a part of my genetic makeup. My mother after all, didn't know how to cook until she was married, and most of her initial cooking lessons were taught to her by bachelor friends of theirs in Nigeria. I never had an interest in cooking growing up, and just assumed that I would pick it up naturally when needed. What a surprise it was to find out that this was not the case! My mother was an organized, quick and creative cook. She still is. Watching her cook was something to behold! I on the other hand, must have meticulous directions in order to prepare a dish. And by meticulous, I mean meticulous! Nothing is to be left to chance or heaven forbid, guessing! Cooking for me, is a stressful time, somewhat akin to labor pains. And my family regardless of gender, feel that same pain when we entertain, because I'm not a believer in suffering alone!
I love people. I love having people over. But when it comes to planning and executing a menu, I become a totally different personality, a sort of Dr, Jekyll / Mr. Hyde transformation takes place, if you will. My family would prefer to be anywhere else but home, and if they had their druthers, would time their arrival home at the same time as our guests! I guess I really don't blame them. For a people person who would love to have friends over more often, this stumbling block is the wall I need to get over every time I consider inviting someone over. My husband takes on the mantle of errand guy, and my children become child laborers. I try to be prepared for these events, but often find myself in a chaotic whirl minutes before our guests arrival. Of those friends who have had the rare privilege of eating at our home, some have even found themselves arriving to help cook the dinner they were invited to partake of! Now, for friends of ours who might be reading this (for lack of anything better to do apparently!), I want to assure you that as soon as you enter the door, the stress of cooking and preparing falls away. So, please don't take any serious note of this bizarre personality trait of mine. You are still required to answer "Yes, we'd love to," when I invite you over!
I must say that, over the years, I have relaxed a bit. I now have the local pizza stores phone number ready to go if things don't appear to be going well, and I've learned to look forward to the evening ahead to help get myself through the in between time. I even experiment with new dishes when having friends over. Especially good friends. I've slowly come to realize that it doesn't matter if I am not the greatest cook, or set the most beautiful table. What matters is the getting together. The fellowship of friendship. And on that note, let me get back to the dinner that began this lengthy discourse.
My mother is a fabulous cook, as was my late mother-in-law. Mom would come home from a day that began at 5:00 a.m. in the morning, returning from work at around 6:30 pm (three hours of commuting a day!), and somehow throw together a meal that always tasted exceptional, and looked exquisite. My mother-in-law had one of those ovens we fondly remembered as the magical oven. The food that came from within its depths never seemed to end! Commuting home to Princeton from New York everyday, there were days our car would display a mind of its own, and before we knew it, we would find ourselves in the driveway of my in-laws home. This by the way, was well before I married my husband, our families having been close family friends for years. My mother-in-law always seemed to have enough food not only to feed her husband and three sons, but whoever dropped by their home on the whim of a car! Both my mom and my mother-in-law entertained guests almost every weekend of my growing up years, or so it seemed. I always thought I would inherit my mothers cooking abilities, thinking it a part of my genetic makeup. My mother after all, didn't know how to cook until she was married, and most of her initial cooking lessons were taught to her by bachelor friends of theirs in Nigeria. I never had an interest in cooking growing up, and just assumed that I would pick it up naturally when needed. What a surprise it was to find out that this was not the case! My mother was an organized, quick and creative cook. She still is. Watching her cook was something to behold! I on the other hand, must have meticulous directions in order to prepare a dish. And by meticulous, I mean meticulous! Nothing is to be left to chance or heaven forbid, guessing! Cooking for me, is a stressful time, somewhat akin to labor pains. And my family regardless of gender, feel that same pain when we entertain, because I'm not a believer in suffering alone!
I love people. I love having people over. But when it comes to planning and executing a menu, I become a totally different personality, a sort of Dr, Jekyll / Mr. Hyde transformation takes place, if you will. My family would prefer to be anywhere else but home, and if they had their druthers, would time their arrival home at the same time as our guests! I guess I really don't blame them. For a people person who would love to have friends over more often, this stumbling block is the wall I need to get over every time I consider inviting someone over. My husband takes on the mantle of errand guy, and my children become child laborers. I try to be prepared for these events, but often find myself in a chaotic whirl minutes before our guests arrival. Of those friends who have had the rare privilege of eating at our home, some have even found themselves arriving to help cook the dinner they were invited to partake of! Now, for friends of ours who might be reading this (for lack of anything better to do apparently!), I want to assure you that as soon as you enter the door, the stress of cooking and preparing falls away. So, please don't take any serious note of this bizarre personality trait of mine. You are still required to answer "Yes, we'd love to," when I invite you over!
I must say that, over the years, I have relaxed a bit. I now have the local pizza stores phone number ready to go if things don't appear to be going well, and I've learned to look forward to the evening ahead to help get myself through the in between time. I even experiment with new dishes when having friends over. Especially good friends. I've slowly come to realize that it doesn't matter if I am not the greatest cook, or set the most beautiful table. What matters is the getting together. The fellowship of friendship. And on that note, let me get back to the dinner that began this lengthy discourse.
Our friends arrived, and over lasagna, salad and a lovely variety of desserts, we conversed. We laughed and told stories, and through them got to know each other better. We enjoyed each other. It was a warm and convivial time. Our fireplace wasn't lit, but it was that type of warmth that was felt in relationship. It was good to get together, to spend some time, and to break the winter chill with the warmth of camaraderie, and even though we never did get to play those games, that's okay, maybe next time!
True friendship is like basking in the suns warm embrace
It's golden reaches, comforting a soul with grace.
Rippling laughter cuts through loneliness' pain
Conversation and humor a powerful refrain;
(An unfinished "Ode To Friendship" by Jeenu)
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