Dinner Party

I’ve always enjoyed hosting dinner parties. I enjoy setting the table, cleaning the house, preparing the menu, coming up with a game or some little touch to make it special. I’ve thrown some good ones, including one where I burned off all my eyelashes pulling the second course out of the oven, and another where everyone got so drunk we moved it to the hot tub with borrowed swimsuits. But last night was a first as far as dinner parties go. I didn’t serve alcohol.

It helped that my guests knew that going in. When I offered up a craft, zero-proof drink they were receptive to it, asking about the ingredients: the habanero bitters and the ice cubes made from fresh squeezed Meyer lemons. It was reflective of a conversation one might have about vintage and bouquet. I served it in stemware (because I refuse to give up my stemware) and we had a lovely moment toasting to old and new friends. The whole ritual of “what would you like to drink?” and the acknowledgement of a good time was very much present. Drinkers often wonder what it would be like to not drink alcohol? It’s the same! Except you drink something else.

As the night went on our conversation became animated and boisterous at points. It helped there were two great story tellers in the mix: my husband and an old friend from high school who has been sober for a couple of years. We talked about times past, including some antics from the old days, some embarrassing ones that another dinner guest pointed out “at least we lived through.” She is a psychotherapist who found her calling later in life. Her perspective on community and relation is funny and insightful, and you feel from the moment you meet her she is trustworthy. I love people that radiate that kind of care. Her husband, an old customer of mine from the wine shop, is a retiring airline pilot and he and my ship pilot husband fell right into conversation about professional similarities and differences. It always helps to curate a good mix of people at a dinner party. Consider careers, interests, personalities and think how they might play off of each other. I find that five to eight is a good standard.

After three hours with never a lull, my couple friends decided it was time to head home. There was no worry about who was driving or that they might really “feel it” in the morning. Hugs and thanks were shared with a promise to do it again soon. My high school friend lingered, and we moved the discussion to another room as we got into the meat of why he had decided to stop drinking. The story was alternately funny and bleak, but the upshot was that it was the moment he said “no more.” Abel and I had a different story, but none-the-less had come to the same conclusion that alcohol was serving us no longer. All three of us were in convicted agreement that it was one of the best things we had ever done for ourselves, and that we missed it not one bit. It is such a magnificent thing to grow and change. Complacence and resistance are human riddles, and the joke is on us.

All in all, it was a fabulous dinner party, no less enjoyable because it lacked booze. If anything it was more meaningful and authentic and guess what? I remember the whole night.