“You’re SO much like your mother!” I know what you’re thinking. Ugh. Right?
Those six little words are rarely a compliment for 20-something women, or maybe any women, for that matter. But most of the time, being compared to my mom is a compliment of the highest order. Most of the time.
I’ve definitely inherited her generally laid-back, but feisty-as-necessary personality, and I got all her naughty sense of humor (Maggy’s such a prude). I split her love of food with my sister, but unfortunately, I lost the genetic battle for Mom’s go-get-‘em attitude. Maggy is an uber-doer, I’m more of an I’ll-get-‘em-eventually kind of girl.
Maggy and I also split the over-functioning party hostess gene, too. Mom’s been throwing massive dinner parties with frightening regularity for years—she basically catered Mags’ wedding for God’s sake, and looked devastatingly gorgeous doing it I might add.
I’ve watched her fry 40 pieces of chicken for one of my school events with (almost) no complaints—when I’d told her about it at approximately 8 o’clock the night before. She’s gotten up at 5 to make fresh scones for church parties, and baked dozens of gingerbread houses for charity. Mom’s been working to rein herself in recently, and trying to teach us to do the same. But old habits die hard, as they say.
So, when the question of my friend Erika’s bachelorette party came up, of course I said “Oh, let’s just have it at my place!” Well, the pre-party, at least. And, of course, I ended up feverishly cutting vegetables, making hors d’ oeuvres, mashing up guacamole, and putting out nibbles, ice, and drinks as people were arriving—no make-up on, hair in a messy ponytail, still clad in yoga pants and a wife beater. Nice, Sharon.
But, things went great. People mostly hung out around the kitchen island (I don’t even know why we have tables in our house, they mostly collect mail…and dust), and I ended up straightening my hair in the family room with a captive audience. Bottom line: everyone got fed and watered (so to speak) and it was a great time. Plus, let’s be serious, when people start ripping shots you can be sure they don’t give a crap about the crudités anymore.
Despite the fact that I know things will be ok, I have a hard time remembering that before a party. Whenever I am freaking out about preparing food for people, or freaking out while preparing food in front of people, I remind myself of one particular anecdote that reminds me to CHILL out—and I usually end up telling it to the people seated around the islands awaiting food.
One summer when we were kids—I was maybe 4 and Maggy was 6—Mom was getting ready for a dinner party. I’d be willing to bet that it was 90 degrees, 50% humidity, and we were tugging on her apron in our un-air-conditioned kitchen taking turns whining out something like: “Mooooooommmmm, can we help?!”
God bless her, she didn’t yell at us, or say no, or send us off to watch TV. She handed us a big bowl, a couple wooden spoons, and told us to grab ingredients out of the cupboard and go make something…elsewhere.
Bear-hugging all manner of jars and canisters, we toddled out to the driveway (seemed as good a place as any) to create. As far as my memory is concerned, those cookies only had two ingredients: shredded coconut and rainbow sprinkles. Surely we put something else in there, but I have no idea what it was. I don’t even remember if we baked them.
When with hyper-extended little arms we proudly presented Mom with our coconut sprinkle cookies—bits of grass, gravel, and rainbow-colored toppings be damned—she served them at her party. I don’t think I’ve ever felt that important, before or since.
They were a hit! No one seems to remember if they were accidentally delicious, decently edible, or ended up tucked in the bathroom trash can in cocktail napkins. But, everyone had a great time telling us that they were good and laying those “mmmmmm” noises on real thick.
Next time I throw a party, I’ll probably still be in my yoga pants when people arrive, but I’ll try not to worry about it. After all, who cares? Perhaps I can rustle up a recipe for coconut-sprinkle cookies, and call them psychedelic macaroons—my friends would probably love them. If not, I’ll just say a toddler made them.
Sharon, we have pictures of that driveway baking extravaganza. I am wearing a psychedelic tiger t-shirt and black stretch pants (another “Thank God we dress ourselves now” moment), you are wearing something white or light pink, probably a dress, but of course your headband is falling onto your forehead, as it always was back then. I am going to dig that picture out when I get home, maybe frame it. That experience marks the beginning of our love of cooking together. But I digress.
Everyone always says to me things like, “Wow, your mom is a cookbook author, you are so lucky” or “Your family must eat so well” or “You must have learned so much from her over the years.” Yes to all of the above. But I think we can both say, without hesitation, that the best lesson we ever learned from mom wasn’t how to cook (which I feel is an individual journey), but how to be a laid-back cook and host. I remember reading the Introduction to Perfect Recipes for Having People Over and thinking: “My God, my mother’s a genius!” Why do people put themselves through such torture when there’s an easier way? Forget profiteroles, tomatoes cut into roses or making your own short crust pastry. Being at ease and putting your guests at ease is the most important lesson for a cook to learn. Because let’s face it, much like my psychedelic tiger t-shirt and black stretch pants, the 80s are over. Fussy French cooking is out; simple, well-cooked food is in. I think we can all feel grateful for that (although I do love Fondue and that boneless Coq-au-Vin recipe you modernized and simplified, mom.) But if the food has evolved, so too should the method of serving it.
I’m in my fourth year or marriage now and I love having people over to our house. It doesn’t usually stress me out. When our friends arrive they generally head straight to the kitchen (because I’m still there). In fact, most people never see the rest of our house. I’m always doing a few last minute things, Andy’s sitting on the counter or setting the table, but I think this scenario puts people at ease. It’s casual, it’s easy, it’s fun. We’ve got good music going, a good drink in our hand and good company. And if you don’t know people particularly well or have new friends over, there’s nothing worse than sitting around a coffee table staring at each other! When I go to other people’s house, I love nothing more than “getting stuck in” as the Brits say.
In this and all respects, thank goodness I am like my mother. I just hope our next house has an island to congregate around. I do miss that island.
Well, aw shucks. This post is a little like accidentally overhearing compliments. Do I agree? Do I demure? I think I’ll just refresh your memory about the cookies.
Sharon, the key ingredient in those cookies was melted semi-sweet chocolate which helped bind all that yummy coconut and pretty sprinkles. I was a kid during the no-bake cookie era, so I knew if I sent you out in the driveway with a bowl of melted chocolate, you and Maggy could hardly go wrong. I was so confident you two would deliver, I even handed you a baking sheet to spoon the cookies onto.
It was the early 90’s and crazy time for our family. I was working at Restaurant Business Magazine in Manhattan (a 2 1/2 hour roundtrip commute each day). David was totally engrossed in his new job.
That memorable night I was having people over. David was out of town, and I had to play host and hostess. Fact is, I really needed you two to make dessert. It’s pretty cool that my moment of desperation resulted in such a confidence builder for you two (especially since I apparently caused such serious mental and emotional damage in the fashion department).
That period in my life has always made me sympathetic to working people trying to make family dinner. I support their doing whatever they have to. By including the kids in the process, you just never know what might happen!
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These are going to be mixed up in kitchen TODAY! I need these now!
Thanks,
Rae
at what point are the almonds added? these look beautiful.
What and where are the sprinkles?
Sharon, I made your fabulous cookies last night. Everyone LOVED them! Luke’s girlfriend couldn’t believe they were homemade — and they were so easy to make. But next time I might change it up a bit just for kicks — maybe try mixing them up in my driveway! Loved your story –
good article as usual!