A Chinese girl could not ask for a more perfect number of guests. It was four boys, four girls, and four courses, and everything about the evening spoke of balance and comfort and of friends whose separate ways never strayed that far. On a lark, I decided to throw a holiday dinner party, and I never would have expected such a perfectly warm reception.
It was a convergence of Type A personalities. So there was exactly one bottle of pinot noir, one of cabernet, one of Grey Goose, and one of Martinelli's. I instructed everybody to bring a gift to exchange, but something that was totally selfish -- a token that told of their own personality, an item that had affected them in 2004. And strangely enough, that little piece found its way to exactly the right person in one of those times when mathematical probabilities and serendipity meet.
I fretted a little bit about the warm chocolate souffle. But Chris had actually worked under Jean-Georges Vongerichten's employ so he came equipped with the most helpful tips. Reyna brought extra chairs and lots of unstifled laughter. Jon brought the world's best vodka. Tina came in fantastic cowboy boots she hunted down in Montana. Jose could never keep a straight face. Jean-Daniel remarked on the extraordinary Dozerbear. And Stella, simply Stella, brought the house down at Boardwalk 11 with those Godsent pipes.
It was one of those seamless nights where the minutes melted away. Where you never watch the clock because you are too wrapped up in the velvety cosiness of happy company. The party moved to a local bar (not dive, said Jose, because otherwise he would have felt more comfortable) and although amateur karaoke wailing threatened to dim the energy, private conversations provided another kind of pleasant vibe. One such friend did not tire of making racially charged statements, but at night's end all we could do was look at each other and burst out laughing. Plus, what's worse? That friend's persistently racial observations, or another friend commenting of a heavyset singer's cowhide skirt, "How many cows did they have to kill to make that for her?" It's a gift indeed to have friends so well-bred that are the first to clear the table and load the dishwasher, but turn around with this sort of wicked and delicious humor.
"You really know how to take care of your friends." I've heard nothing finer.
posted by Lucy Sloan @ 1:29 PM
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