Thursday, June 19, 2008

I Wanted to Eat My Flesh

In honor of Lori's post about awkward meals the other day, I want to make her feel better by sharing a dinner party experience I had.

When we were first married, my husband and I went to a small church in Dartmouth, MA (well, most churches in New England are small). I guess we looked like lost puppies because one Easter, this family took pity on us and invited us over to their house for Easter dinner that evening. The next year, I decided I was going to return the favor by inviting them to our house for Easter dinner. I don't know what possessed me to make lasagne for Easter dinner. Anyway, I thought I was being real clever by making the lasagne the Saturday night before and putting it in the refrigerator. I figured that way, as soon as we returned from church, I would just pop that baby in the oven, and we'd have a nice hot meal in no time. Did I mention that we lived 30 minutes from the church? This might not mean too much to most of you, but for you New Englanders out there, you're thinking, "Why did you attend a church soooo far away?"

So this lovely family follows us home from church, I put the cold lasagne in the oven and we sit at my kitchen table and wait. And wait. And wait. Did I mention that I didn't make any appetizers? When we were nearing the 1 hour mark and the lasagne was still cold, I found a half eaten bag of tortilla chips in my pantry. No dip, no salsa, just plain chips. Finally, about two hours after we got home, and about five hours since anyone had a decent meal, the lasagne was hot. And like a good hostess, I forgot to make a salad or any other side to go with this meal (that was sarcasm). Having barely avoided starvation, we finally ate the lasagne. Suffice to say, it was quite an uncomfortable dinner party for all. But God has a sense of humor. I know this because the family's name was Donner.

1 comment:

Lori said...

LOL, guess it's good to know you weren't always the domestic goddess. Although I *still* have these kinds of stories. The time we moved to this church and a woman came to help me unpack and I never actually offered her the fresh pot of coffee I made right before she arrived, or the time I thought I'd be clever and put "Thankful slips" in the crescent rolls only to discover the paper would half dissolve into the roll, leaving one with a mouth full of paper and bread. Oh, I have many, many stories. I'm telling you, it's pizza from now on! ;-)

And BTW, we were lucky enough to be able to have some of your apparently famous potstickers (that have some other name I can't remember) and I see why you call yourself the Domestic Goddess. They were amazing. YUM.