Cooking is not my thing. Apparently that doesn’t really matter; when those to whom I must submit deem it my responsibility to contribute food to a given event, I am expected to do it. Without complaining or disputing.
Last Friday was MOPS and it was my table’s turn to bring breakfast. Because it was what was needed most, I was asked to contribute a hot dish. I’ll spare you the details of why that is decidedly outside of my comfort zone and the grumbling – to myself – which ensued. Except the tail end of the grumbling. It went something like this:
Maybe I should just never agree again to participate in anything that requires me to contribute food.
What’s the matter with these people who think just because you don’t have to do something very often, it’s no big deal?
If I ruin this, what can I pick up really fast on the way there?
There’s going to be food in heaven and – hallelujah! – I don’t have to make it!
Oh yeah. Jesus is preparing a place for me.
- A perfect place, one where I will never feel lonely or left out.
- He’s doing all the work. When we work to prepare a place for others here, we are continuing His work.
- The Mary/Martha
connection: while I agree that Martha often gets a bad rap, I’d like to suggest that preparing for guests ahead of time and then enjoying them, like Mary was, is a better model than today’s popular “everybody in the kitchen together”.
Let the conversation begin.
- What makes you feel welcome? (Me, I’m partial to invitations. These “anybody can come” events that nobody ever knows about unless they are in the “in” crowd, what’s up with that?)
- What do you do to prepare a place for others?
- Why do we call people who open the door for you and hand you a program “ushers”?
I love to cook and entertain. But I agree that having everyone in the kitchen together doesn’t usually work. I had a friend who was such an expert hostess (I try to emulate her, falling far short most times). She had an “open” kitchen, and her guests would mill around the kitchen island, the living room, wherever. Sometimes she would ask each of us to bring one particular thing, like a blood orange or a sprig of rosemary. Then somehow, with seemingly little effort, dinner would appear. She (and her husband) were so comfortable in the kitchen that nobody even noticed they were making dinner. I loved that.
I feel most welcome when someone makes a particular point of asking me to an event. It doesn’t have to be in writing, but the sense of “I’d really love it if YOU came” needs to be there. Also, knowing what is expected and a general sense of what will happen helps. Also knowing and enjoying the company of the other guests.
To prepare a place for others, I first try to be comfortable in my own place. Then I think about what would make them most comfortable, without making me uncomfortable. If I know someone will want to help, I try to think up a task for them in advance so I am not flustered when they ask. I also try to do as many tasks in advance as possible, so I can mingle with my guests while still putting out a fabulous meal (in the case of dinner guests). For overnight guests, I try to make them feel special, yet relaxed. Again my friend, the hostess, was so great at this. She would put a novel or two that she thought I might enjoy on the bedstand of her guest room. So thoughtful!
Ushers in a previous time (and at some more formal events) actually “usher” you to your seat.
Lovely post, Rebecca. What a good thing to consider in one’s own grumbling … the hope of heaven!
Well, 2 stories. In my 20’s I lived in the same city as distant cousins, also young. We often got together. It was a steamy, muggy day in the grimy city and the fellow I was with and I were sweaty, wrinkled, undoubtedly grimy and were just about to catch a commuter train out. Coming from the air conditioned inbound train were my cousins, fresh and energetic, both in suits, she in a sparkling white pantsuit. Seeing each other we stopped to catch up and we asked them where they were off to. Oh, their anniversary, so a dinner in the city. And without a breath’s pause, invited, urged and insisted we join them. We looked away from them down at our own disheveled selves and regretted. Oh no, it was not any problem, please do come with them. In the end we didn’t, mainly because it was an anniversary and obviously meant to be romantic but I never forgot how natural it was to them on this and any other occasion to be totally inclusive and to focus on what mattered – similar to what Beth just said above. This one encounter stood out so dramatically for me that I adopted their attitude as my own.
The other is my father’s idea, horribly embarrassing to a teenager, that friendship didn’t involve invitations. 🙂 He believed and lived by the principle that any friend of his was welcome in his home at any time and he expected to be treated the same. Therefore he would never call before
going off to visit a friend. One of the ways I adopt this is that I encourage anyone who finds themselves in my house to honestly act at home. I’m happy if someone checks the fridge and grabs something. I guess I have a crash pad mentality. On the few occasions when he did issue invitations for dinner he loved to have a family with 3 strapping boys because my father was a cook and baker and at last he had someone who “knew how to eat”, i.e. hungrily.
adding to the “I’d really love it if YOU’d be there” thing that Beth mentioned, even a minute of “real connection” from the party/event host – and an introduction to someone interesting if I am alone.
We had my in-laws over yesterday – first time since we’ve “settled in” – and it was just for 45 min or so prior to D’s SSprogram. I changed the tablecloth, swept the floors – removed clutter and put out a snack. Nothing fancy – but just a sign that I remembered they were coming and they weren’t “interrupting our routine”
We designed our house so there’s no separation from kitchen to dining to living – the big kitchen island is a buffet or a bar to eat at or whatever you need it to be. Our family gatherings are always kitchen focused and I hate the idea of being removed from our guests by a door…
Oh, here’s my father’s (who had a restaurant) chicken recipe that practically makes itself and which I brought to a community potluck and I had the firehouse cook ask for the recipe:
Roughly slice several large Spanish type onions in “rings.”
Cover the bottom of a roasting pan with them.
Take chicken pieces and plop them in on top.
Take about 3/4 cup Heinz ketchup and mix with equal amount water.
Pour this over the chicken and rub it some with your hands so it gets loosely coated.
(optional but good) roughly slice mushrooms and peel and quarter potatoes. Add to pan, placeing them around.
Sprinkle paprika over all this like you would generously dust with confectioners sugar.
Bake at 350. If you see it browning too much too fast, cover with tin foil.
While this goes on, make up a pot of rice, cooked half way. My father just threw it in with everything else but for me it doesn’t come out soft enough.
Add the rice when it’s half done and mix so it will absorb some “gravy.”
Oh I forgot, maybe half a head of garlic pieces
I feel welcome when the host or hostess looks me in the eye upon arrival and says they are glad I have come. It doesn’t matter if it is for a major event or a “drive by friending”. When I go to someones home and they are in the kitchen or running around doing this and that I feel like I am interupting their life not being welcomed into it (can you tell my love language is quality time?). I really appreciate it when I am told up front what will be served or how so that I know how to prepare myself or my kids, aka do we eat ahead or just snack.
Vildy – I’m so glad you shared that recipe, not only because it reminded me that I needed to start the rice for this evening’s dinner!
Amy – that’s exactly the response I expect from you if I show up at your home, without an invitation, a week from today! 😉