Hostess

Abundance and diversity of edibles, drinkables and talkables. My mother had talked about the food: how much there was,  how many different kinds, and how tasty. Our ride hammered home the same point. When we got to the modest suburban home, it was clear neither had exaggerated.

The long table in the center of the house displayed a lavish array of stuffed pastries, beef, coq au vin, meatballs, pasta, scalloped potatoes, smoked herring, sushi, a variety of cheeses, relishes, garnishes, on and on and on. People were there to chow down, so a  line was slowly moving counter-clockwise around the table snagging a few of these, a little of that, a smidge of something else, and, oh, that look's good, and, well, I looove those.

On another table, cheesecakes, cream cakes, rich chocolate cakes, and pastries of different kinds, all yummy (as I can attest).  Add to this champagne and huge assortment of other beverages.

Gradually, as more and more people showed up and attended to the laden table for their first, second or even third rounds, the trays and plates, regularly replenished, finally began to thin out and we could see the platter beneath the plenty. At the beginning there had seem too much, but by the end of the evening, most was gone, and our hostess supplied containers to us to take away what was left.

The house was packed with every color and kind of people from all over the town, not one-percenters, just folks, casually dressed and primed to talk between mouthfuls, especially about politics. People were wedged in the sofas, doubled up on the chairs, huddled around tight-packed card tables, gesturing with their forks, only lowering their voices to take bites.

All this is the work of one woman who every year invites what seems to be half the town to show up once a year at her house and eat the food she'd been preparing for weeks ahead of time. Her husband seemed a bit overwhelmed by this annual project, as are others; indeed, a painting of our hostess smiling and serving hangs in the living room.

Thank you for inviting me (or rather my mother), but please, why do you do it and why so single-handedly? Was it political, because there was a clear preponderance of one party represented? Was it social, because just about every ethnic group was represented? Was it because of the season, though there the little creche was amusing more than devotional? Was it to show off your fine cooking skills (your pastries, with so many shapes and forms and fillings, were delicious)?  Was it your love of parties, though you had little enough time to talk? Was it because something that started small has became an institution, and people would be disappointed if you stopped--which you didn't do anytime in the evening?

I, on the other hand, only filling and emptying plate after plate, chatted about school policy with one person, the Canadian job market with another, party nominating processes with a third. There was an general enthusiasm that animated the crowd, not too loud but not sedate. We left a few hours later stuffed, talked out and happy (and a little in awe), thanks to you, who made us welcome.