I love to cook for people and have been hosting meals at my house since I first got married and invited an Italian to my two-room apartment for manicotti and homemade Italian bread. I know. Ballsy, right?
The thing is, I’ve always had an overabundance of confidence when it comes to cooking. My mom was a fabulous cook and if she had had any money, any money at all, she could have ruled the world with her 3-D peach cookies. As it was, she counted pennies and clipped coupons and still managed to make Cheese Souffle, Fondue and recipes with French words in them for family dinners. My sister’s boyfriend once said, “I love having dinner over here. You always have something exotic. Like creamed tuna on toast.”
So taking her as my role model, I unabashedly started inviting people to our humble abode shortly after getting married. I faked my way through the Italian dinner for the Italians, grilled shrimp kebabs for the person who’s allergic to shellfish, accidentally octupling the cayenne pepper in Jambalaya (I don’t think Krissan ne has stopped sweating to this day), and forgetting to put the ham in ham and bean soup.
About 15 years ago, I started keeping track of what foods I served to which guests. I have my standbys and I wanted to be sure I didn’t repeat the same meals. But also I wanted to keep track of our friends’ allergies, likes and dislikes. I’ve asked our friend Chris which nut he’s allergic to so many times. I’m sure it’s walnuts. Or pecans. Every time I start to write it down, I forget which one.
So I started a small card file box. Every time we had company, I filled out a card with what we had to eat. At the bottom I asterixed little notes on what I had learned about that particular person’s preferences. The theory is, when someone comes back to my house for dinner, I am sure to not give them whatever I served the first time, and also avoid any need for an epi-pen. Also avoid? This conversation: “I TOLD you about the peanut allergy! Like, three times the last time I was here!” “Oh, right! I was too busy trying to remember your kids’ names and where they go to college.”
I was leafing through the file box the other day and thought some of the notes were blog-worthy. Some of these notes were the result of my phone call a couple days before the dinner, when I would ask, “Is there anything you guys don’t like or don’t eat or are allergic to?” And some are the result of the looks on people’s faces when they caught sight or smell of what I was making.
Here are a few answers to the question, “What don’t you eat?”
“Black licorice, root beer and sea cucumbers (slugs that live on the ocean floor).”
“Chicken on the bone.”
“Anything with a bone.”
“Fish, unless you can guarantee that it won’t have bones in it.”
These last three people are sure to be at my house for dinner with the guy who will eat only bones.
“Beef, pork, chicken, fish, other seafood.” Are you a vegetarian? “No, I just don’t eat those things.”
“Haggis.” Two different people have mentioned this one.
“Only Tostitos for tortilla chips. Can’t eat anything hard and crunchy.”
“Cilantro, cucumbers, raw oysters.”
“No chocolate, no caffeine. Low fat. Cereal. No cukes, no radishes.”
“ATKINS!!!!” Exclamation marks and all caps are mine. Indicative of the frustration of hosting a dieter.
“Likes strong coffee. No asparagus. Liked the pork.”
“Allergic to walnuts. (Or pecans.) Avoid all nuts.”
“No fish, no seafood except shrimp.”
“Serious shellfish allergy, especially shrimp.”
“Husband has shellfish allergy, except shrimp. Loves shrimp.”
“Pizza, zucchini.”
“Water drinkers. No coffee.”
“No ham, pork, or seafood.” Fortunately, I majored in chicken.
“No cheese. No ice cream after 8 p.m.”
“Olives. ”
“Cauliflower.”
“Baked fruit, hot fruit.” Blurted out, “Oh, yuck! I hate hot fruit” when I served poached pears in brandy sauce for dessert. For free.
“No red peppers.” I think this was one of the many I-like-them-but-they-don’t-like-me revelations.
“Light on onions, light on garlic.” “Loved the rice.” “No mayo, no fish.”
“No onions ALLERGIC.” “No eggplant.” “No BBQ chicken.” “No curry.”
“Scotch.”
“No cake.” “No mushrooms on pizza.” No ca– No cake? Who are you?
“Nothing spicy.”
“No chicken on the bone.” “He likes daiquiris and pound cake.” This one sounds like lyrics to a country song.
If you have a food preference file box, I hope my card says, “OMG, this woman ate us out of house and home. Chardonnay. No veal. Loved the haggis.”
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If you liked this, you’ll like:
Let’s Have a Party! Oh Yes, Let’s Do – My party planning committee of one is doing just fine.
http://dianelaneyfitzpatrick.com/lets-have-a-party-oh-yes-lets-do/
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Read more of Diane’s Just Humor Me columns here. Sign up for our weekly e-newsletter to get new blog post notifications. And if you like her blog, you’ll love her book, Home Sweet Homes: How Bundt Cakes, Bubble Wrap, and My Accent Helped Me Survive Nine Moves.
