THE GOOD LIFE Pamela VANDYKE PRICE
Lovely parties ... what do we think of when we think of them? And by parties, I mean occasions when people gather, not specifically for dinner or any setmeal. Just as no woman worth asking is supposed to know when one reaches the age of non-desire (and no man of my acquaintance either, I trust), so none of us can resist the lure of a promising party. Berowne's 'Did I not dance with you in Brabant once?' is one of Shakespeare's most evocatively glamorous remarks and the three old ladies in Vahnouth singing of when 'all the girls were pretty, and all the men were strong' indicate the appreciation value of the 100 per cent happy time.
But is it, ever, founded on food? I don't, now, mean those times when, because Some- one Else was there, you could, as far as any- thing and everyone else was concerned, have had the party on an ice-floe, traffic island or the front parlour of a semi-detached in the suburbs of the potteries. If you've that sort of luck, you don't need the party anyway.
Is the good party founded on drink? Well there must be some, but as far as I'm con- cerned, sophisticated maturity arrived when I not only knew when it was time to stop quaffing but when one should never start on the doubtful mixtures.
Back to what the restaurant correspon- dents call 'ambiance'—something I associate with inadequate lighting and banquettes that make me feel it's a strain to keep my head above the table. And I think that very seldom does a professional eating-place possess the 'something' that can-put the bloom of 'party' on an assembly. This is where the unlikely surroundings, the improvised setting initiates the magic: the Duchess of Richmond's ball, in what, we are told, was really a sort of enlarged conservatory-cum-winter garden, Glyndebourne, parties in colleges, in castles, a party I remember given for some visiting physicians when we had the National Portrait Gallery opened for us and the doctors gave spot diagnoses of the celebrities as they view- ed them, a party when Martini and Rossi took several hundred guests to the opera, after which we walked to New Zealand House, had supper on the ground floor and mezzanine and eventually saw the dawn break over the most beautiful view of Lon- don from the Martini terrace . These were true entertainment and I think it was the cir- cumstances, not just the fare, that made everybody feel at their best and, therefore, truly made the party,
Two sorts of party I've recently been to would not be utterly beyond the resources of any of us, if we really concentrated our efforts. The first was a tasting, given by Tanners of Shrewsbury, one of our remaining independent wine merchants; they have been holding a series of these in aid of the National Trust and in houses which belong to the Trust but which are not always open to the public. I attended the tasting at Atting- ham Park and it was not only exciting to arrive at the colonnaded entrance, gaze at the hall and drawing-room—and the fine selection of wines—but, as most of the people present remarked, the presence of people at ease in the superbly proportioned rooms im- mediately gave life to the place, which was, as are so many great houses, designed for elegant parties. There were a number of wines (for which, I trust, adequate orders were subsequently received), there was a fine selection of cheeses, both local and national, plus different breads. Those of us who wished could be serious with the spittoon, others enjoyed themselves just by drinking. We all had a lovely time, even the lady whose home it had formerly been.
Then Jack Lejeune, of the Temple Bar Club, which is on the site of the second oldest coffee house in London. decided to give a series of dinners with each course accompan- ied by appropriate music. The music is played after some introductory remarks are given, following the courses. I think I would prefer the music to come first, while people are being served, when conversation is rarely serious and close-knit anyway, and I have doubts as to whether music can ever be matched exactly to a dish, though it should, I am sure, be programmed as carefully as the progress of the food and the wines. But the discussiOns we had on the evening I at- tended indicate the value of the idea and its possibilities—anyone with a gramophone could try. After all, some of the most deli- cious music was written as background or 'occasional' stuff and those who have eaten in a city hall with a band playing in the gallery know how much this enhances the enjoyment of an occasion that may not always be gastronomically impeccable. My host also provided the opportunity of our deciding whether we thought an Alsatian wine or a claret the best accompaniment for goose— for me, the red wine won, as it almost invari- ably would do, on account of my personal tastes. but I think a very great Riesling (we had a Gewiirztraminer this evening) could have shaken my opinion.
Although to many of us the food and the wines must be the focal points of a luncheon or dinner, this is not so for some of those whom we invite. For them—and to vary our own entertaining happily—variations on party themes are pleasant. Unless you are of the ilk that plays games. Having avoided these at school, and subsequently refused to interfere with conversation by either playing or goggling at the sort of parlour pastimes that, to me, indicate that we are not even willing, much less ready, to be adults. I merely go home and broach the right kind of bottle. And, possibly, plan how I would like to give a party in the china galleries of the Victoria and Albert Museum, with all the exhibits out of their cases and in use, as ideally they should be. (But I should not volunteer to do the subsequent washing up.)
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