Dinner party...

This weekend is the first weekend as a household we’ve embraced our togetherness and we celebrated by having a little dinner party, or DP as I like to call them (because I’m a twat).

Given the obvious limitations (the size of the kitchen table, the fact that Gavin had fecked off to France, the fact that Sam couldn’t come as she had Ben, the fact our oven could barely cook a ready made Yorkshire pudding in 3 hours) we embarked on planning an evening of over indulgence, opulence and sheer fabulousness.

Of course in part we remained true to our goals, but there were a couple of amusing hiccups along the way.

My top three:

1) Ali devises the perfect starter- easy, quick and the only thing she needs to do to ensure it won’t kill Stav (who suffers from extreme cheese allergies) is remove the buffalo mozzarella. In a stroke of genius Ali garnishes all of the starters with a delicate, finely grated, layer of well….parmesan. Brilliant work. Impossible to remove, and impossible to disguise the taste. Thought I’d better fess up as it’s not good form to kill your dinner guests (especially on the first course, at least let them enjoy their last supper).

2) Natalie’s wine shocker. Picking white Bordeaux might, some would think, be a safe addition to any wine list for an evening. The colour of the wine when Matt poured it should have provided a clue. Dark yellow, like the colour of a wee after a very heavy night on the tiles. Matt tasted it and commented that ‘it was a little bit sweet’. Steve tasted it and stayed very quiet. I smelt it, tasted it, and was almost violently sick. Never before had a more putrid, sickly sweet, syrupy monstrosity crossed my lips (not since the days of MD 20/20). Natalie knowing full well she was responsible for the presence of this the ‘dark side’ of wines, stayed very quiet until she was outed. Matt was dispatched to the shop to acquire a less sickly wine and came back with Riesling. Thank god it wasn’t German.

3) Steve’s tanty. Having a temper tantrum in the middle of a dinner party is simply not on. He hadn’t been poisoned, or been forced to drink vile wine (see above) so he really had very little to complain about. Perhaps me accusing him in front of everyone of being ‘in an eggy’ didn’t help to ease matters, but honestly, storming out and sulking in my bedroom was beyond the pale. Funnily enough the mood subsided soon after Match of the Day finished and he was back upstairs scouting for desert and looking shifty. It takes a twat to know a twat, and I can safely say, he was one- albeit briefly. I suppose that’s why we’re so well matched. Knobs together.

Looking at the above you’d be well within your rights to think the evening was a disaster, but that would be far from the truth. In fact, Lindsey’s chicken pie was nothing short of genius, as was Natalie’s gravy and rosemary and garlic potatoes and ham. The Gower’s chocolate based Banoffee creation (made by mother and son combo Sam and Ben) was sublime and was probably appreciated more in the morning when we weren’t all steamingly p*ssed. We sat and discussed matters of pressing importance such as goats face curry and what an utter f*ckwit Lindsey’s ex-boyfriend is (and believe me we could have spent the entire evening on this one). Stav and Natalie sat and did proper shoulder wobbly giggles together. Lindsey spun some old skool classics on her vinyl, sorry, compact disc player whilst we teased her for being an old timer. We went to bed hammered and happy.

DP’s rule.