A buddy of mine called me around 5:30 on a Friday afternoon. "I’m making dinner later for some folks from the office; come by at 10, and bring a bottle of wine." You didn’t have to tell me twice. the hour came, I showed up at my buddy’s door with a bottle of red. Three other friends from the office were there, and Thai food waited on the table. What commenced was several hours of eating, drinking, talking, laughing, arguing and contemplating. And as 7am rolled around and the sun came up, my buddy decided to make breakfast–an English fry-up–for everyone. And finally at 9:30am, I staggered home, past the market stalls and the people beginning their Saturday, as I ended my Friday.
Thus is the condensed version of the best dinner party I’ve been to. Spontaneous, joyful, boozy–and not a damn two-page contract in sight. Eating should be a joy, not a binding legal agreement. But, anything to get buzz, I guess.