the offer, ask the Helping Hand before they sit down again and get wrapped up in another conversation.
“In about five minutes, I’m going to need you to help me plate,” you say. Or, “Can I put you in charge of making sure everyone’s water glass is full?” Then, at the moment you need their assistance, tap them lightly on the elbow. They’ll know what to do.
Bring the Helping Hand into the kitchen and give them clear instructions. If you are running around like a headless chicken, it is unlikely that the Helping Hand will understand your directions to “put a bit of lentils on each plate.” Be precise. How much lentils, one spoonful or two? In the centre of the plate or on the side? If they are helping you plate a row of six dishes, do one first to demonstrate exactly how you want it to look.
If you are changing cutlery in between courses, make sure each guest has what he or she needs before being served. You don’t want your well-timed dish to get cold as you fumble for forks.
If you are serving family style, you may expect guests to start digging in as soon as food hits the table. But as you return from the kitchen with each new dish, you’ll see that guests are still waiting patiently, the food untouched. As children, we may have grabbed for sustenance as soon as the food arrived, without waiting for our mothers or fathers to sit down. But our guests will not start eating until the host is seated.
Pay special attention to this, you hosts who are too full of performance anxiety to be seated. I was taught that hot food is meant to be eaten hot. So if your guests appear too socially inhibited to start before you sit down, even after your insistence, you may need to be seated, just to get the ball rolling. In this situation, sometimes I’ll sit down and begin to put food on my plate or eat, just long enough to get others started. It’s like when you have to suck a bit of gas from a car tank before siphoning it into a bottle.
You will likely need to introduce the food, but the table may have an impenetrable dialogue you don’t want to interrupt. Too bad for them. You made this soup. They should hear what it is and eat it before it gets cold. Sometimes people will stop their conversation when they see food, but don’t depend on that.
Here’s a trick. While serving a dish, get in between two people who are talking. I mean physically in between. In the second when they pause, say, “I don’t want to interrupt, so I’ll just tell you that you’re having a smoked eggplant soup.” This probably will interrupt things, but conversations branch in so many directions. It is everyone’s right, but primarily the host’s, to make those digressions.
If you do not introduce a dish but simply start eating, others will eat. When there is a pause, someone will comment on it, hopefully with a flattering sincerity, and ask, “What are we eating?” Some hosts like to make a big event about this, but that can backfire if your dish doesn’t live up to the hype you’ve just given it. Talking too much about a dish before it’s eaten can build undue expectations. Guests will hunker down with nachos as if they were taking an exam, feeling the need to form some clever summation, wasting time on pith when they should be enjoying melted cheese.
It’s pretty embarrassing to clink a fork against a wine- glass, demand the floor, and address everyone as “ladies and gentleman,” only to oversell a roast beef that you’ve burned. I once had a host include salt and pepper in his explanation of his dish. Please err on the side of brevity. Do not list every last ingredient down to the microscopic level. We know that the dish contains both protons and electrons.
If you are serving confit lamb shoulder with a parsnip purée, jus, and whisky-soaked apricots, try introducing it as “lamb, parsnip, and apricot.” This gives your guests the opportunity to discover the depth of flavours and textures on their own, and, if they
“In about five minutes, I’m going to need you to help me plate,” you say. Or, “Can I put you in charge of making sure everyone’s water glass is full?” Then, at the moment you need their assistance, tap them lightly on the elbow. They’ll know what to do.
Bring the Helping Hand into the kitchen and give them clear instructions. If you are running around like a headless chicken, it is unlikely that the Helping Hand will understand your directions to “put a bit of lentils on each plate.” Be precise. How much lentils, one spoonful or two? In the centre of the plate or on the side? If they are helping you plate a row of six dishes, do one first to demonstrate exactly how you want it to look.
If you are changing cutlery in between courses, make sure each guest has what he or she needs before being served. You don’t want your well-timed dish to get cold as you fumble for forks.
If you are serving family style, you may expect guests to start digging in as soon as food hits the table. But as you return from the kitchen with each new dish, you’ll see that guests are still waiting patiently, the food untouched. As children, we may have grabbed for sustenance as soon as the food arrived, without waiting for our mothers or fathers to sit down. But our guests will not start eating until the host is seated.
Pay special attention to this, you hosts who are too full of performance anxiety to be seated. I was taught that hot food is meant to be eaten hot. So if your guests appear too socially inhibited to start before you sit down, even after your insistence, you may need to be seated, just to get the ball rolling. In this situation, sometimes I’ll sit down and begin to put food on my plate or eat, just long enough to get others started. It’s like when you have to suck a bit of gas from a car tank before siphoning it into a bottle.
You will likely need to introduce the food, but the table may have an impenetrable dialogue you don’t want to interrupt. Too bad for them. You made this soup. They should hear what it is and eat it before it gets cold. Sometimes people will stop their conversation when they see food, but don’t depend on that.
Here’s a trick. While serving a dish, get in between two people who are talking. I mean physically in between. In the second when they pause, say, “I don’t want to interrupt, so I’ll just tell you that you’re having a smoked eggplant soup.” This probably will interrupt things, but conversations branch in so many directions. It is everyone’s right, but primarily the host’s, to make those digressions.
If you do not introduce a dish but simply start eating, others will eat. When there is a pause, someone will comment on it, hopefully with a flattering sincerity, and ask, “What are we eating?” Some hosts like to make a big event about this, but that can backfire if your dish doesn’t live up to the hype you’ve just given it. Talking too much about a dish before it’s eaten can build undue expectations. Guests will hunker down with nachos as if they were taking an exam, feeling the need to form some clever summation, wasting time on pith when they should be enjoying melted cheese.
It’s pretty embarrassing to clink a fork against a wine- glass, demand the floor, and address everyone as “ladies and gentleman,” only to oversell a roast beef that you’ve burned. I once had a host include salt and pepper in his explanation of his dish. Please err on the side of brevity. Do not list every last ingredient down to the microscopic level. We know that the dish contains both protons and electrons.
If you are serving confit lamb shoulder with a parsnip purée, jus, and whisky-soaked apricots, try introducing it as “lamb, parsnip, and apricot.” This gives your guests the opportunity to discover the depth of flavours and textures on their own, and, if they
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