I am up at 7:30 and have crossed the frozen floor three times before settling with coffee to work. Sleep was scarce as I spent the hours last night in a lost zone between dreams and anxiety.
There is a dinner party tonight.
Under normal circumstances, I am not a nervous cook [those who know me snort aloud and begin composing their corrections]. But tonight is a bit exceptional.
I am the only person attending this potluck, save for accompanying eaters, who has not or is not currently writing a cookbook.
"Why on earth," you ask, "are they letting her in?"
It's to make them look good, I assume. They must be counting on Kansas to bring the nacho cheese dip, the crock full of weenies, the Triscuits. I will provide the contrast by which their own plates/verrines will dazzle.
In writing this I have almost talked myself into bringing "a modern update on the cocktail weenie" or a deconstructed dip in which seperate piles of Velveeta and Ro*Tel are served in a millefeuille of Tostitos.
Thursday, January 03, 2008
A Potluck Requiring Both
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2 comments:
Toast, that's what you need. Everyone likes toast. Everyone. And ask people to bring their own topping. Problem solved.
In that vein, I brought ritz crackers and cheddar cheese to a christmas party and called it "kitsch". Hold your head up, and you can pull off anything.
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