MEL BUTTLE
“It was the early ’90s; what could be more on trend than semi-dried tomatoes?”
Having people over throws me into a frenzy. I’m a rational, sensible person, but in the hours leading up to guests arriving, I disconnect from reality and lose all common sense.
How many potatoes does an adult eat with their dinner? I couldn’t tell you, it could be four, could be seven.
No time to get caught up in the food – I’ve got to light a candle in every room of the house and line the remotes up neatly on the coffee table, so these people I’ve met once don’t think I’m a slob.
I think my mild panic over guests comes from when I was little and we had an American family over for dinner. My dad had befriended them on a delayed flight from Cairns to Brisbane. Prior to their arrival, I’d never seen my mum in such a state. It was like she saw this as some sort of cultural exchange dinner with foreign diplomats.
What tipped me off that this dinner was a huge deal was the salad. Mum made a salad that had feta, semi-dried tomatoes and avocado in it. Usually, we were lucky to get one of those things in a salad as the prize. This was the big league. It was the early ’90s; what could be more on trend than semi-dried tomatoes? I’ll tell you – it’s a cheese platter to start, flowing Deep Spring orange mineral water and a Sara Lee black forest cake.
Dad prepared the house for the Americans the way all dads do, he mowed the grass, trimmed the bougainvillea and wiped down skirting boards. You never know when a guest might drop something, then, as they bend down to pick it up, they spot a piece of fluff on the skirting board.
Towards the end of the dinner, over coffee and Sara Lee, I remember the conversation turned to television.
The Americans gave us a heads-up about a new TV show that would be coming our way called The Simpsons. I remember thinking, a cartoon for grown ups about an ordinary family, sounds very average, I don’t think that will take off.
With those foundational memories it’s no surprise that these days, the last couple of hours before guests arrive are always chaos for me. I’m a whirlwind throwing things in cupboards and shoving papers into drawers.
When you come to my house, the water jug on the table has sliced lemon in it and I light candles – lots of them. My house looks like a cathedral. Show guests you care by risking a small fire in each room.
It doesn’t matter who’s coming over, the tea towels always get a tidy up. It’s time to give the good tea towels a run and tuck the ones with burn marks away from view. Imagine people knowing that once, while I was trying to save $9 worth of pine nuts from burning, the tea towel caught on fire. Shameful.
Having music on in the background is classier than having the TV on, even though, yes, you may miss key elements of Dr Phil. But what we’re trying to impart here, is that we live in this candlelit, clean, non-burned tea towel elegance all the time.
When I offer our guests a drink I can’t help myself, I list everything in the fridge: “We’ve got tea, coffee, water, beer, wine, lemonade, milk and apple juice.” Why say milk? What adult hears that selection and chooses a glass of milk?
I’m not sure what to do when kids come over, but I think I’ve almost cracked it: They want access to a bowl of chips and the internet password.
Also, kids eat half to one potato, not three. Make a note if you need to.