Perfect

Planning a dinner party can be stressful.

There’s pressure to have the house clean, the table set just so, and the food…! Planning the menu, and preparing the food so that it’s everything you want it to be, can be daunting. Dinner preparations take thought, organization, some creativity, and usually a little bit of ballet.

Today there are beautiful and extremely helpful cookbooks available to all, providing guidance for food preparation and menu coordination. I know. I own a few—and occasionally I use them. There are books that help plan an entire meal, by suggesting the coordination of dishes that will go well together. Some books show you foods that can be prepared two, maybe three, or even four days in advance. (I find this particularly helpful, because I’m more of a “ballerina” than a “choreographer.”) And many books give advice on what wines pair nicely with specific dishes. So with all these helpful guides, it’s possible for almost anyone to plan menus for special occasions and achieve successful results.

My mom has always been a wonderful cook. I grew up surrounded by neighbors, friends, and family who constantly raved about her cooking. (One of her secrets? You didn’t hear it from me: eggs, butter, and cream. Use obscene amounts.) I’m familiar with all of her cookbooks, and I don’t think any of them help with planning entire menus. (She’s an excellent choreographer.) I remember huge family dinners, involving three or four different main dishes, which by today’s busy standards, would take far too long to prepare. The average family dinner was large, and meals for special occasions translated into a table laden with fantastic possibilities. I suppose at the time I didn’t think much of it. Good food was always available. I never witnessed a failed recipe or a dish that didn’t “turn out.” Order take-out because dinner was ruined? I didn’t even know that was an option.

When we had guests, they would praise my mom’s abilities, coming back for second and third helpings. “I don’t know how you do it,” they might say, “this German chocolate cake is amazing!” To this, she would always respond with her patient disclaimer, “Well, it’s not as good as it could be…” The reasons she felt she hadn’t achieved perfection on any given item would vary: not enough salt, ran out of cinnamon, baked a little too long, didn’t bake long enough. The reasons were endless, and none of them made sense or mattered to her guests. But she always explained why “it wasn’t as good as it could be.” In spite of these disclaimers, she consistently pulled off the most extravagant meals. I didn’t really help with any of these preparations, so what did I know? She made it look simple and I thought it was.

It wasn’t until I moved out and began cooking for myself that I began to understand the work and preparation involved in meal planning. And with this knowledge came the desire to help out in my mom’s kitchen whenever she was hosting a special family meal. It was here I slowly started to understand that everything my mom did may have appeared effortless, but there were a lot of smoke and mirrors involved in producing this illusion. Smoke and mirrors were also used to distract guests from realizing that during the preparation of a meal my mom was stressed, short-tempered, and well, bitchy. Perhaps, even more than being a choreographer, she was a great magician. And everyone loves a magician—until you see behind the smoke and mirrors. And especially when you see a short-tempered bitch! It really takes the fun right out of the magic act. Another thing it tends to do is take the “yum” right out of the food.

I guess to my mom, the planning was everything. Everything had to be perfect—perfectly timed, perfectly browned, perfectly presented, perfectly placed, perfectly lit—perfect. But in the end, it was never “as good as it could be…”

I have a childhood friend named Candace, with whom I am still in contact.