Luckybeans: How to entertain guests

The other night we had guests coming over for coffee and this put dad in a bind. Could he pull off the feat of serving coffee and some sort of cake thing, whilst also making conversation? Probably not. So he employed the assistance of the 11 and 8 year olds.

For a fee (one piece each, with a third slice as a peace offering for their little brother) they agreed to bake a strawberry short cake. The deal was struck and Dad went to work that morning. Not one to leave things to chance, (this is a responsible Dad, after all) he returned home at lunch to feed his children and inspect their progress. There was the little cake, beautifully decorated with some oozy melted strawberries from the freezer (they remarkably didn't smell of fish at all). The cake was only missing three pieces, as agreed. Going well.

But Dad was aware that (for some reason?) it is frowned upon to serve company a half eaten cake. AND Dad recognized the cake was small. AND it got smaller still after Dad had a piece for lunch, which in turn prompted the kids to confess to a 'misunderstanding' over the quantities of the soda powder stuff they were supposed to put in. All of this prompted Dad to make an executive decision: a second cake needed baking. So he issued his orders and went back to work and the kids obeyed and baked all afternoon. What good kids!

That evening they all helped lay out the tea cups and arrange the cake plates. Dad reflected and decided he was correct to estimate that a half cake would not be enough, so they laid out all of the one-and-a-half cakes. It looked very lovely, not quite as lovely as mom could have fixed it mind you, but lovely enough for these guests. And the guests arrived and saw the cakes and ooh'd and ahhh'd and all commented on precisely how lovely they looked. And the 11 and 8 year old stood to the side in their crisp white pinafores with their hands clasped behind their backs and beamed all round.

Which was the cue for Dad to use his magic phrase: 'Yes, the kids made the cakes.'

Actually Dad doesn't get credit for the genius of this magic phrase. Dad has heard mom use it many a time, mostly on himself. 'Welcome home from work, honey. We are having kelp salad for dinner. The kids made it.'

You can serve absolutely anything on God's green earth if you first explain to your guests that the kids made it. Somehow this doesn't paint you as an irresponsible host, it rockets you into the category of Super Parent. Does this make sense to anyone? And once you have used the magic phrase there is no need to go into any further detail, like explaining which cake has powder soda and which doesn't. It is called staking out the moral high ground.

A picture of loveliness, don't you think?

Now for the serving and eating part. You must of course keep careful track of which cake is which, or the big social experiment is all for naught. Sit back and quietly watch your guests serve themselves and note who has taken a slice from the correct one, and who is about to eat the wrong one. At this point, you need to swing your attention on the wrong-caked individual and earnestly engage them in a serious conversation, so that you can keep your eyes fixed on them intently as they take their first bite.

This is called the 'friend gauge.' There are only three possible responses to that first bite, and you will instantly know who your guest is according to which response they choose.

The first response is to swallow serenely and without comment. This person is not your friend. They are certainly a person of true character and are to be deeply admired, but they are much too uptight and polite to really be fun to visit with. Perhaps in a few years they will relax a bit but right now: too formal.

The second response is to spit out and laugh. Adore this person forever. They are straight and true and are probably already plotting a wonderful revenge on you. Just avoid invitations to their house for at least 6 months.

The third response is the spit out and swear. They are no longer your friend - show them the door immediately. But be careful to remember what they say so you can blog to your absent spouse about it afterwards. That part is the silver lining.

Of course it is possible that your tea guest is another single man. Extremely improbable, because single men don't come over for tea - they just don't. But it is possible. And if he is a single man, then none of the above 3 apply. Whatever he is doing, he is not tasting what he is eating. He is just putting things in his mouth, as my Auntie Joan likes to complain, and thinking 'mmmmmm! free cake!'

Anyway, our guests fell into the first category. Sigh. A bit of an anticlimax, actually. They chewed and chewed (and chewed) but didn't utter a peep.

But then Dad noticed a funny thing: when everyone left there was only one cake that had been entirely eaten, and it was the wrong one. Dad had carefully taken his piece from the correct powder-soda-proportioned-cake on the left yet there the rest of the cake remained, still partly there. Yet the incorrectly proportioned cake had been dramatically devoured. Was it possible that so many people ate bad cake - had second pieces even - and didn't notice? Or had he confused the two, eaten bad cake himself and fail to notice? Is that possible? Could there ever be a way to tell?

There is a way to tell. Silently leave the remaining cake out on the counter with the kids home from school and see how long it lasts. They will vote with their palates.

I did this and the kids did vote. The last slice is still there, growing mould. But the fruit flies seem to love it.

Comments

there would definitely be spitting involved if we came around. just because we now know it would cause instant adoration.

Posted by: montague | 21 April 2009 at 10:56

of course you'll have to freeze a piece for Mum -- who was just here with Gramma, April and Lukas on a bright, beautiful, breezy day -- just make sure it doesn't absorb any fishy attributes!

Posted by: Dad - Grampa Kurt | 21 April 2009 at 11:58