Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Forced casual: The Hostess learns to suck it up
Okay. Okay. I do not adapt well to a lack of formality. Do not ask me why, I think I get it from my Dad. He never approached the kitchen in the morning at any hour without having showered, shaved, and dressed in pressed clothing. Never. And that was just for starters.
When I go away, say, to ski and the cupboards are bare of all serving items I deem necessary on a desert island even for serving heathens, maybe I have a little break with my perfectly resolute state of internal calm (huh.).
Over New Year's 2010, I was pleased (forced) to accept that roasting pans would be used as serving vessels, plates as platters, and any number of other things would occur on the tabletop which I try to tolerate mention of when I receive letters about "letting go" of my "rules" here at the Hostess.
So, here you go, I did what I could to let go, while still preparing all the food, and did not once wish it was a bit different.
Altogether, a fabulous holiday with a ton of people I adore, 14" of powder, one new two-year-old skier, one car that did not make it out of the valley in the blizzard, and love, tons of love.