Problems
Dining out
Mary Killen
Q. I can never think of anything to say at dinner parties. Would it be better if I refused all such invitations?
B.E., Devon A. You have a choice of three tactics. Either develop a loud, ricocheting laugh with which to meet all conversational attempts, an outrageously flirtatious eye- flickering manner, or learn to exude a sul- try secretiveness. This last device has served to endow some of our leading cyphers with the reputation of being people of power and mystery. Any or all of these methods can be used as an effective alter- native to verbal expression.
Q. As a newly elected MP I am unsure of the tactics by which I can establish that a journalist who has suggested lunch or din- ner will be paying for it. It seems crude to ask in advance, 'Is it on you?' but naturally I would not want to pay myself if the jour- nalist can get it on expenses. I also wish to avoid having to make any pretence of want- ing to pay myself.
Name withheld, London SWI A. When you accept the invitation propose that the meeting takes place in a rowdy pub in somewhere like Trafalgar Square. The moment the journalist suggests a more prestigious venue his goose is cooked. Then, in the restaurant, when the waiter is poised to take your order, say musingly, `Well I'd like x and y,' before swivelling towards your companion and asking anx- iously, 'Is that all right?'
Q. I do enjoy giving dinner to people but I am quite old now and would like them all to go home at 11.30 at the very latest. As I apparently enjoy the reputation of being a cult figure, I find that people, especially the young, do tend to stay on. How can I encourage them to leave early?
Name withheld, Avon.
A. Call in an electrician to set a timer onto your lighting source so that a total blackout can be staged for 11.30 each night. As you are plunged into darkness you can cry, 'Oh damn and the trouble is I've no idea how to turn them on again. I told the man to set the thing for 11.30 — it's to outwit the burglars when I'm away, you know — but when I'm here I'm always in bed by 10.30 at the latest, so I have no idea how to switch the lights on again.' You will find that your guests soon beat a reluctant but hasty retreat.
Q. My daughter and son-in-law with their two boys are shortly leaving for their bien- nial visit to their relations in England. The reunion is always a happy one except in one vital aspect. Their hosts are extremely frugal eaters — serving orange juice in medicine glasses and dinner on the small- est of plates — who do not understand the healthy appetites of their visitors. At times the Australians have been reduced to visit- ing the local Indian takeaway on the pre- text of going for a walk, but this manoeuvre rarely works as their hosts are keen walkers and likely to join them. What can my daughter do to solve her very real prob- lem?
Concerned Australian mother, North Adelaide A. Why does she not announce that a catering friend from down under has asked her to investigate rival English producers of delicious dishes during her stay and has given her a budget to do so? This will give her an excuse to supplement the meagre fare on offer with dishes such as Lidgate pies at every meal, thus ensuring they are of sufficient bulk to satiate their Australian appetites.
Q. What course of action would you advise when you have planned a dinner party but everything has gone horribly wrong, it is too late to start again and you just know your guests will hold it against you if you serve horrible food?
A.C., Kensington, London W8 A. Why not simulate an oven fire by burn- ing some paper in the kitchen just before your guests' arrival? Gasping and flapping your hands, you can explain that the oven has exploded — completely ruining the slow cooking pork roast stuffed with fennel and garlic from the River Café Cookbook Number 2. Since this dish is supposed to stay in the oven for 24 hours, such an out- come would not be surprising. Consequent- ly you have just had to send out for Indian takeaways. So impressed will your guests be by your bravery and the mini drama of the occasion that a stimulating ambience will instantly be set in motion and they will tuck into their takeaways in a mood of benevo- lence.
Q. I am shortly giving a dinner party for a number of friends. Among the guests will be a particular couple of whom I am very fond. The last time they came the husband blew his nose on a linen table napkin, which I thought was disgusting. I could hardly reprimand him in front of the other guests, so I wonder what you would suggest should he repeat the crime on this occa- sion?
Name and address witheld A. Make sure he cannot commit such an atrocity again by having your table napkins starched to cardboard texture. If you achieve a sufficient level of stiffness your guest, on attempting to repeat this utterly unforgivable crime, will run the risk of doing himself and his nose a serious injury.
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