Column: cozy, guests!

What could be more fun than an evening with good friends? Everyone relaxed around a nicely set table. Tasty food prepared with love. A good glass of wine. One tells an anecdote, the other a joke. Cheerful laughter. Long after dinner. I always thoroughly enjoy it. I can really look forward to such an evening in good company. But there is an exception to that rule: those evenings with friends when we ourselves are the hosts.

Guests: really welcome!

You might think by now that we don't like guests at our kitchen table. Nothing could be further from the truth. Everyone can join us in this way. It's fun, those unexpected twists and turns in a day. So that's not the problem. It's more about those 'official' evenings with friends. Those evenings that are arranged long in advance. I don't have any problems with that per se. I just keep my own relaxed me. As far as that goes. Because my Italian husband sees that date on the calendar a lot less relaxed.

The menu

It starts long in advance with the question of what we will prepare that evening. appetizer Yes or no? Which appetizers? Are three primos too many? Still only do two then? To serve or not to serve something between the first and second course? Fish or meat for according to? And which vegetable? Do they match the primos? What are we making for dessert? And what do we serve at the coffee?

My proposals are not special enough. He browses cookbooks looking for ideas to make it a really fantastic culinary evening. And then, after gentle urging on my part, finally decides not to experiment with new recipes. After all, you never know.

Groceries

Putting together the menu is one thing. Getting the ingredients at home is another. We make a shopping list. Driving to shops we wouldn't normally enter. Make a second round of the same shops to get the things that were also on the list that we left on the table the first time. And then eventually have enough in the house to feed an entire orphanage. Or at least have an emergency menu in case something goes wrong while cooking.

D-day

And then the time has come: the day has come. The tension starts right after the breakfast to rise already. I am demoted to a kitchen helper, while my sweetheart runs around as if taking a Masterchef Pressure Test. Time goes by faster than expected. And that's why he makes concessions to the menu here and there and we leave the middle course. And that eventual third and second primo as well. I quickly bounce the car to get to the confectionery to get some pastries to go with his coffee, so that he doesn't have to bake that one tasty, but perhaps a bit too laborious cake.

When I return, I do not show that the stress is also starting to hit me. I try to stay relaxed and smile. Because my very own Masterchef looks more and more nervous and I know that every word can now be one too many. And I don't want to show that I'm starting to wonder how we can get the kitchen, which is completely upside down, a little presentable before the guests sit down at the table.

Squealing tires

But in the end, somehow everything works out. I'm so happy with that unwritten rule by which Italian guests are always at least 20 minutes late. That gives us that extra time to set the table nicely, too showering and try to get that relaxed feeling. That comes naturally when the guests arrive and it becomes an evening with lots of cheerfulness, good food and drinks, lots of laughter and long after-dinner drinks.

An evening like a warm bath. That gets even hotter when someone softly asks me with a wink as I leave if it was not that bad this time. Because that's the perk of good friends: they know my Partner as well as me.