Fancy Time



We were on the plane home from Miami, where we had enjoyed several nice dinners out, some fancy-ish, others just plain enjoyable, when Jeff turns to me and says,"We should have a fancy dinner at home some night where the kids have to dress up and use their manners. We could use all the fancy dishes and a white tablecloth and have courses and lemon water!"

Lemon water?

Fancy dishes?

Um, hang on, a sec, I thought, this sounds fun to him who never cooks save for the odd plate of waffles, but to me it sounds like work! And even without the tablecloth and lemon water, meal time is already too much work for me! And aren't they supposed to use their manners ALL the time?  I think I smiled politely and made some sort of "Mm Hmm" noise and went back to reading My Life as a an Experiment, trying not to think about how badly I had to go to the bathroom.

Two days later I come home from running errands to have the precusor to this beautiful piece of art sitting on my desk. It was at this point that I new I was stuck.

Now let me say right here that this is one of the reasons why I love my husband. While I believe that I come up with some pretty smashing ideas on a regular basis, I seldom get them any farther then from my brain to maybe out of my mouth.  On a good day, I will go to the store to buy supplies. On a REALLY good day, I will actually purchase something from the store, though it will have nothing to do with the original idea and then it will sit at home waiting for divine providence to either do something with it or my next trip to Goodwill.

But not my husband.

He says it.

He does it.

Amen.

The farthest I got to nixing the idea in the bud was putting it off by one day. He wanted to do it on Friday, I got it pushed back to Saturday. But he had the kids all excited. They were informed that this was going to be a "special dinner" for which they would have to dress up. We left it at that, because in reality, our kids do not have the clothes to really "dress up".  Clean is good. A collar, they were told, was a necessity. Shoes were optional.

My next issue was the tablecloth. I don't have a white tablecloth. I don't even have a white sheet. My first inclination was to head to the store, but knowing what my track record is, I decided it was better to make due with what I had. Jeff conceded. So lavender and green it was.  I did pick up some flowers to match when I had to go to the grocery store to find dessert. I couldn't bring myself to dirty up the kitchen for brownies. I started to get a little excited about the whole idea when I started realizing I would actually get to use some of the things I have had around for years, because I like them, but have never actually used!  The sushi plates (for bread)! The clear glass bottles (for lemon water)! The fish plates (for salad plates)! My pickle jar...okay, I use the pickle jar a lot, but it had never been this pretty.

The kids, admittedly, got into it. Showers were taken, ties were dug out of underwear/sock drawers, hair was gelled....

 The one snaffu we hit was when the grill wouldn't stay lit to cook the carne asada. Jeff wouldn't take a shower until after the meat was cooked because he didn't want to smell like bbq during the dinner, and it was FREEZING outside, so while he battled the elements and his own hygiene issues, I tried to keep the kids out of the kitchen and from resorting to their usual wrestling/teasing matches that break out when they are bored.
And as usual, when stress kicks in, my immediate thought turns to wine...but as I wasn't about to break the motif of the evening (what kind of hostess stands in the living room berating her customers while quaffing from the wine bottle? Although....I'm sure it isn't unheard of....) Instead I introduced the idea of  "cocktail hour" to the kids.  Each was given a small glass of Martinelli's and allowed to sit in the living room and "visit".

Amazingly, Lydia's natural abilities really carried this one off.

Soon dinner was ready though and I got to play Maitre d', bringing them into the "restaurant", seating them and offering their choice of beverage (lemon water or.....uh lemon water?). Of course, they all chose more Martinellis.

We started with the bread and dipping oil. This totally made me laugh because each child's survival mode kicked in. (How many pieces do I get. How many should we leave for mom. If I put her share on her plate, can feel free to eat the rest? There is an uneven number! Someone's gonna get more than me!)

I think we were pretty successful in putting fears to rest by quickly placing the salad course before them. CROUTONS!! They magically make everything better.

Perusing the menu. No, no choices guys. It is prix fixe.

The Host for the evening's festivities and Brain Child behind it all.

The major rules that were set before we started included the following:
1. There would be no talk of killing or other violence at the table.
2. No interrupting or flying hands, food, or utensils.

3. You must USE your knife AND napkin appropriately.

4. You must try everything, and short of it making you vomit, you can leave that which is uneatable on your plate, making no reference to it for the entire meal unless asked directly. At which point, you must STILL be polite in your answer. *this was a BIG one as the salad had herbs in it :-)



May I just say. The evening was a success. The food was pronounced not only eatable but "awesome", the wierd salad stuff not withstanding. No one complained that they only got one serving (just like in a restaurant). Manners were pretty much impeccable and dessert rocked!

I have to admit, when I saw these in the store, THAT is the moment I started to get into the whole excitement of the evening. Especially because it meant I got to use my doll-sized plates!

The Host and Maitre d' of Gable Avenue Grill. Look for our Zagat rating!

A nod to our sponsor and emergency back up. Which we didn't even really need, just enjoyed.

Of course, the success of the dinner immediately veered into talk and plans of weekly, quickly paired down to monthly, repeats of the same. Perhaps with new foods thrown in for variety (see, I told you! WORK!) to which I agreed tentatively but my favorite idea was actually saving up our money and going somewhere.  Admittedly, before this experiment, the thought of subjecting other diners who were paying more than $5 for their dinner with fries, to my brood and their habits was a bit depressing (okay, can we just say that a cold sweat would develop and an immediate need for that glass of wine). But I think now, with pleasure, I could do it. The problem being. Where to go around here? The one requirement that almost everyone had was that there be tablecloths (and lemon water!). So if any one knows of such a place in our neck of the woods that we won't have to wait for our next tax return to try out...