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Posted by on Nov 19, 2015 in Blog, Personal, Rants and Raves | 1 comment

Rules for Inviting Me to Your Holiday Gathering

 

holiday-dinner

 

I set and maintain the highest standards possible.  I have strict rules for social engagements — including dining out with other people, being served in restaurants, and engaging in casual conversation.

With Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year’s right around the corner, it occurred to me that most of my dedicated readers and followers might not be aware of my rigorous holiday protocols.  

 

Should you invite me to grace your merry occasion make it truly special for you and your guests, that means certain qualifications must be met.  Note that depending on how important you are, and the prospects that you can either help me financially or with my career, some of these conditions may be flexible.  However, the rest of you will be required to meet my demands in full and without question, or risk me blowing you off.  Should you wish for me to attend, adding significantly to the chances of your holiday gathering being successful, listen up and take careful notes.

Here are my ten demands for attending public holiday festivities:

(1)  You will invite me early and give me plenty of notice — I don’t want to hear a bing, glance down at my smartphone, and read a text from someone like Steven McLoughlin announcing at the last second he’s hosting one of his famed rib dinners the day of the party.  He does this to me all the time.  Give me a break!  My social calendar fills up early, like weeks and months in advance.  So, have respect for my busy schedule.  Preferably, I’d like at least two week’s notice.  That said, if your gathering is taking place at a very expensive restaurant and you are paying, this requirement might be waived.

(2)  You will inform me of who else is attending beforehand — Nothing is worse than attending some otherwise jovial function and then getting corralled and hammered over the head by some ass-bagging bore who ruins the evening with tiresome chat.  If I notice one or more of these deadbeats on your invite list, some serious filters are going to have to be installed to get me in the door.  You better invite plenty of buffers to keep bores away from me, or I’m either splitting the scene or not attending, at all.  Worst of all, don’t stick me with one of your family members or an old friend of yours who I don’t know and will never see again, requiring me to punish myself by deep diving for some common conversational topic.  This pretty much puts all strangers off-limits, unless they are really interesting (successful writers, or people who have climbed Mt. Everest, for instance).  Here’s my standard formula:  I don’t want to attend any holiday party with any more than a 6:1 ratio of people I know versus I do not know.  And keep the strangers away from me, unless there are strong connective personalities.  There’s a very good chance that while a stranger is blabbering something to me I have no interest in, I’m actually thinking about what the halftime line will be in the Lions-Bears game.  Speaking of sporting events, you need to let me know if any local bookies are showing up, along with their names, just in case I might want to avoid them (again) this week.

(3)  You will make sure the room is large enough to hold all the guests without overcrowding — Nothing ruins an otherwise perfect evening like hosting a party inside a venue that’s too small.  This applies to homes, restaurants, and other public places where people congregate.  I expect to be comfortable, with plenty of arm and leg space around me.  I do not expect to feel like I’m trapped in a West Virginia coal mine fighting for oxygen.  I don’t like crowds.

(4)  You will set and follow strict quotas on “undesirable” dinner guests — I have zero interest in attending a social event with any jackass who seriously believes President Obama is a Muslim, or anyone who watches “Keeping Up with the Kardashians,” or people who relentlessly check their cell phones in the middle of a conversation (unless they’re checking a score for me).  If these undesirables must be included, please keep them locked outside or confined to a different room, preferably muzzled.  If confronted with inane stupidity, expect me to cause an ugly scene and then bolt for the door.  My standard ratio on imbecile to masses is 1:20 — unless it’s Joe Pane, Joe Conti, Brett Grant, or Lisa Amador (they are grandfathered in as acceptable, but never more than two together in a room).

(5)  You will adhere to my food fetishes and avoid dishes that are off-limits — Here is what I will not eat under any circumstances:  Pork (except Premium Honeybaked Ham — no cheap-ass $8 hams you buy at Safeway soaked in sugar water);  Margarine of any kind (real butter is mandatory, and preferably Kerrygold Irish Butter);  Potato rolls (they’re cheap and taste awful); Sliced bread of any kind (ibid); mushrooms of any variety (I despise them and will get sick in front of your guests); green peas (even thinking about them makes me nauseous); anything out of a can (this includes cranberries — by the way, who fucking likes cranberries, I sure don’t); cheeses (unless they’re made in Europe — preferably Ireland, Holland, or France); fake desserts ( I want pies and cakes that are baked fresh, not store-bought); soft ice cream of any kind (I will not eat it — period and exclamation point).  Note:  This list does not cover my separate liquor requirements (see details below).

(6)  You will exercise extreme caution when serving me any homemade food — Homemade dishes are a real nerve center for me.  Don’t take offense if I don’t eat your home-cooked food.  It’s just that I just don’t trust your cleanliness or your cooking.  Unless Marieta or my own mother has made it, who I trust implicitly, I have zero interest in trying your family recipes.  Yeah, I’m sure they’re tasty (right, just because you grew up eating the broccoli casserole doesn’t mean it’s any good).  Chances are if I try it, grandma’s secret recipe will end up spit into a napkin.  The rest will sleep on my plate until I can figure out how to get the dish to the sink as quickly as possible without causing a scene.  The more complex an item is, the less chance I will either try it or like it.  Exceptions are grilling steak, baked potatoes (you can’t fuck that up), corn on the cob (it better be fresh and not frozen).  Also, I do not share food.  I demand my own plate.  And the food cannot be touching each other.  A Special Note About Turkey:  Make damn sure the bird is moist.  If it’s dry, I’m bolting.  One, I attended a gathering where the turkey was so dry it tasted like chalk.  Keep the bird moist!   Another Note About Dressing:  Dressing makes me really nervous.  Only serve me cornbread dressing.  Bread-based dressings taste like shit.

(7)  You will screen the wine with me first, in advance — If you are even considering serving any jug wine, or wine out of a box, please dis-invite me, and also lose my phone number immediately.  I’d prefer to just sever the relationship now and save you all the heartache later on.  Italian reds and Merlots are unacceptable.  A general rule is this — anything from the Rhone Valley (France) is a good wine choice.  Anything with 14.2+ percent alcohol is acceptable.  Any wine you have paid for that cost $80+ a bottle or more is acceptable.  As a general guide, any champagne served that’s Pierre Jourdan or higher in quality ($30 a bottle and up) meets my taste test.  Make certain wine is served at the proper temperature, which means chilled.  Wine served at room temperature is a criminal act.

(8)  You will not serve me any domestic beer (unless it’s a microbrew), any beer in a can, or any beer marked with any derivative of the words “light” or “lite” — Don’t even fucking think about putting down a beer in front of me that was made by Coors, for obvious reasons (Republican beer).  Budweiser is also verboten unless it’s a Michelob product (which I’m not sure is even made anymore).  Miller products and other large breweries are also pretty much off-limits.  Moreover, I do not ever drink alcohol at dinner.  So, make certain I have plenty of (unsweetened) iced tea or mineral water close by.  Also, I do not drink cokes or soft drinks of any kind because they are poison.  I also demand a glass size of at least 16 ounces.  I do not like baby glasses where I have to pour refills every 5 minutes.  I’m a grown man, not an infant.  Pick out proper glassware and cutlery accordingly.

(9)  You will seat me in a prime location at the dinner table — If there is a football game being played somewhere and it’s on television, assume that I have acted on it and must therefore see the screen.  I don’t want to crane my neck struggling to see the television.  Ever!  No matter what the score is, or if the game seems “decided.”  My teaser or total might still be in play.  So, plan your seating chart carefully.  The sound must also be turned up unless Phil Simms is calling the game, in which case the sound must be muted.  If there’s a prayer before dinner, don’t expect me to bow my head, but I will remain silent out of respect for others unless my team scores a touchdown and then I’ll probably do at least a fist pump.  During the NFL season, I will not attend any social function on a Sunday of any kind.  The same would apply to college bowl games, but since there’s a meaningless bowl game every day and night of the week for two months, this requirement has now been waived.

(10)  You will allow me to leave without judgment at any time — I realize you’re juggling multiple tasks trying to accommodate the needs of each of your guests, and I don’t wish to seem especially demanding.  I’d even like to make things a lot easier for you.  However, the situation could deteriorate at any time to the point where I am simply fed up, bored, starved, angry, repulsed, or ready to leave that I’m going to head straight for the door, probably without saying goodbye to anyone at the party.  I don’t like all the faux hugging that goes on where it takes everyone half an hour to say goodbye.  Just wave and walk out the door.  See you next time.  That should cut it.

Here and now, given that I require two week’s notice, I’ll be accepting reservations for December 5th, onward.  However, I’m committed to attending multiple wine dinners in the month of December.  Sundays are completely out.  Mondays are out, so long as Monday Night Football is airing.  I attend a movie at least once a week, so that’s out.  I don’t like going out in public on weekends, because it’s too crowded and the service usually sucks, so weekends are out.  There are also four Christmas shows I’m attending with my family.  That pretty much leaves December 18th as my only available opening, from 5:30 to 6:45 pm.

Send your invites to nolandalla@gmail.com

Happy Holidays!

1 Comment

  1. Pork isn’t “ham.” I make a stuffed, rooolled pork loin (brined) with thinly sliced prosciutto, mortadella and Ayrshire bacon, a garlic-salt-butter mash, chard and spinach leaves. It’s to die for … which you might. Come on up. Bonus: no unpleasant guests.

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