What is the philosophy of a dinner party?

I don’t particularly enjoy planning events. There is usually a requirement, demand and loss of freedom that comes with planning. To have planned something is to do something for yourself at the expense of another’s possible request. It feels profoundly selfish, claustrophobic even. They never cease to be disappointing either. They are a personal, vulnerable request. Yet routinely canceled, moved, shifted around. It’s almost definitely a good idea that people ought not to treat plans as sacred, because failure of a plan then becomes a wound in the ways of unfulfilled promises.

Spontaneous exercises are more my modus operandi. Spontenaiety excuses all sorts of behavior. There is no pressure to perform. Invitations are freely given. There is no denial of others. To fail spontenaiety is to fail a nothing moment - a simple, easily re-established addition to a relationship.

In an effort to be better - I planned a dinner party. Friendsgiving. Not without the duly needed help from my mom, who, to the best of her ability, tried to stay out of the process. I made the colossal mistake of inviting two vegetarians over for dinner. I am, as everyone knows, notoriously allergic to things I don’t like. For starters, a Spinach Pear and Pomegranate salad, tossed with a dressing made of dijon, apple cider vinegar, honey and pepper. Because if I have to eat horse food, it better be prepared with a healthy dose of not leaves. For the main, Koshari - made of lentils, macaroni, and rice with a garlic tomato sauce and a drizzle with Dakka, a garlic, coriander, cumin, and chili powder dressing. Topped with fried onions. Or maybe made with the memories of a holiday in Cairo, transported to January 2011. The third floor of a restaurant where five men tossed ingredients in perfect syncopation, like the ripples of sinewy muscle across the body a racehorse.

Like I said. Horse Food.

Cooking is interesting. My mom says it’s more art than science, and that I have to stop looking at it with the black and white perspective of computers, of philosophy. Bullshit. None of these things are black and white, not even the ones and zeroes. What is the philosophy of a dinner pary?

It is, I think, found in the invitation: An apology and atonement, buried in the forging of a gift, for friends new and old, unsolicited and offered freely.

Presence.

It is a presentation, of personal treasures, of memories of far off locales long since lost.

Vulnerability.

A compromise, found in the fare you care nothing for topped with a dressing, a nectar that sings “These are the ways in which I care about you!”

Amrita.

What is the philosophy of the dinner party?

To give and to recieve in turn good

food

company

conversation

and maybe

love