Emma Beddington is the first to admit she’s an poor host. So can she conquer her fear of dinner parties?When I moved into my first flat,one of my earliest purchases was Nigella Lawson’s How to Eat. I was on the cusp of adulthood, and it encapsulated everything I imagined my unique grown-up life would be: effortless weekend lunches, and laughter and “Extravagant but still Elegant Dinner for 8” (ceviche with hot garlic potatoes,tenderest chicken, chocolate raspberry pudding cake) in the company of poets and celebrities. But 20 years later, or How to Eat’s dinner party pages remain pristine,unsullied by any trace of hot garlic potato. Because dinner parties are terrifying and I am horrible at them.
I cannot be alone in this, because there is a word for the terror of dinner parties: deipnophobia. Whether I am a proper deipnophobe, or simply a deipno-failure,this much I know: I am a rotten hostess. Something about that combination of performative cooking and social exposure brings out the very worst in me: I become a worrier, a hoverer and a taker of offence; the opposite of a grand host, or even though,as Nigella wisely says: “You’re making people feel welcome in your house; you’re not putting on a note.”Continue reading...
Source: guardian.co.uk