Finally released from the horrors of the pollock pantries or rat-infested uni accommodation kitchens, into overpriced Edinburgh flats the dinner party season has begun!
I admit I hadn’t really given the concept a second thought – until I invited friends to supper. One friend accused me of perpetuating a posh Edinburgh culture. That offhand comment really got me thinking (which can I just say is a great exemplar of a dinner party conversation). Why is the dinner party an exclusively upper-middle class activity? You need to be able to provide the space for everyone to sit down meaning a larger flat therefore higher renting prices. You also need to feel comfortable sharing food with others.
But these things alone don’t seem too exclusive. Is it the concept from our parents’ generation of a perfectly polished dinner party with place settings, where Nigella’s chicken is served at just the right temperature and the soufflé is never runny. Or is it all those plays and films that portray the dinner party as a sort of game of snobbish – and comic – pretence.
I propose the scruffier option, a thrown together mix of guests, food and conversation in whatever space is available
Surely the dinner party, like all social activities is a pliable concept which can embrace a crammed kitchen and the sharing of strange snacks as well as a three-course meal. Good company, the vital ingredient of a dinner party is not affected by money or class.
“Scruffy hospitality” is the new term for hospitality without the façade. As journalist Oliver Burkeman describes this is the opposite of an almost fake hospitality, dependent on a checklist of jobs that need to be achieved before a dinner party; clean the kitchen, tidy the living room. Instead, Burkeman’s vision is one of friends hunkered around a coffee table ‘nobody’s pretending it’s anything fancier than spaghetti with tomato sauce’. It is this lack of pretence which makes for the liveliness of the dinner party.
Supper club host and chef Rosie Kellet highlights the importance and intimacy of the dinner parties particularly at the moment; “We are in the midst of multiple crises; a climate crisis a cost of living crisis, a housing crisis and what this ultimately has led to in my opinion is a community crisis, we are all craving community in one way or another,” writes supper club host and chef Rosie Kellet.
I think she’s right, which is why I’m comforted by say an intimate Wednesday evening plan of wine and food with friends rather than the grating Why Not dance floor. I think it’s the title of the dinner party which carries class associations rather than the activity itself. So I propose the scruffier option, a thrown together mix of guests, food and conversation in whatever space is available, one where perhaps the term dinner party isn’t appropriate at all.
The last dinner party?
Finally released from the horrors of the pollock pantries or rat-infested uni accommodation kitchens, into overpriced Edinburgh flats the dinner party season has begun!
I admit I hadn’t really given the concept a second thought – until I invited friends to supper. One friend accused me of perpetuating a posh Edinburgh culture. That offhand comment really got me thinking (which can I just say is a great exemplar of a dinner party conversation). Why is the dinner party an exclusively upper-middle class activity? You need to be able to provide the space for everyone to sit down meaning a larger flat therefore higher renting prices. You also need to feel comfortable sharing food with others.
But these things alone don’t seem too exclusive. Is it the concept from our parents’
generation of a perfectly polished dinner party with place settings, where Nigella’s chicken is served at just the right temperature and the soufflé is never runny. Or is it all those plays and films that portray the dinner party as a sort of game of snobbish – and comic – pretence.
Surely the dinner party, like all social activities is a pliable concept which can embrace a
crammed kitchen and the sharing of strange snacks as well as a three-course meal. Good company, the vital ingredient of a dinner party is not affected by money or class.
“Scruffy hospitality” is the new term for hospitality without the façade. As journalist Oliver Burkeman describes this is the opposite of an almost fake hospitality, dependent on a checklist of jobs that need to be achieved before a dinner party; clean the kitchen, tidy the living room. Instead, Burkeman’s vision is one of friends hunkered around a coffee table ‘nobody’s pretending it’s anything fancier than spaghetti with tomato sauce’. It is this lack of pretence which makes for the liveliness of the dinner party.
Supper club host and chef Rosie Kellet highlights the importance and intimacy of the dinner parties particularly at the moment; “We are in the midst of multiple crises; a climate crisis a cost of living crisis, a housing crisis and what this ultimately has led to in my opinion is a community crisis, we are all craving community in one way or another,” writes supper club host and chef Rosie Kellet.
I think she’s right, which is why I’m comforted by say an intimate Wednesday evening plan of wine and food with friends rather than the grating Why Not dance floor. I think it’s the title of the dinner party which carries class associations rather than the activity itself. So I propose the scruffier option, a thrown together mix of guests, food and conversation in whatever space is available, one where perhaps the term dinner party isn’t appropriate at all.
“Autumnal Dinner Party” via Esther Bull
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