2014 Prompt Responses - 4. Prompt 304

The Dinner Party

I stood in front of the freezer, surveying its meager contents. I was surprised that the food wasn’t instantly thawing from the anger radiating from me. “I have the two chicken cutlets I was going to make for dinner, half a box of freezer-burned shrimp, a piece of frozen cod, and three petit cut flank steaks. I’m tempted to just throw it all into a giant pot with some water and call it ‘Pete’s Prizewinning Stew’ or some stupid shit like that.” I slammed the freezer door shut and paced agitatedly around the kitchen. “What the hell was he thinking? I mean… it’s just… I…” I sputtered into the phone.

“Ok. Crisis mode here.” Annie said. “What time are they supposed to arrive?”

I stopped pacing and leaned my back against the counter. “6:30.”

“6:30! That’s less than an hour from now!” Annie shrieked so loud that I had to hold the phone away from my ear.

“No shit, Einstein! Why do you think I’m freaking out! This is a nightmare. I can’t believe he’d do this to me! The extent of my cooking prowess is burning chicken and throwing salad into a bowl!”

“Well, you’re in luck, sweetheart. I was planning a dinner party tonight and they all cancelled. So all I have to do is get my dinner to your house and voila…instant fix for you!”

In my agitated state I missed the dripping sarcasm. “Oh my God, Annie! Why are we still on the phone! Get your ass and your dinner over here now!”

“Oh honey, your sarcasm detector needs a major overhaul. How’s the house look? Have you set the table yet?”

“You’re kidding, right? I called you the minute I hung up on Pete. The table is set for the romantic dinner for two I had planned for tonight. NOT FOR SIX OF HIS STUPID, SNOBBY CO-WORKERS AND UPPITY CUSTOMERS!” I shouted and started hyperventilating into the phone.

“Henry, calm down. We can do this. Why don’t you concentrate on getting the house ready and I’ll concentrate on the food.”

“How are you going to scrounge together something decent in less than an hour? Maybe I can just make spaghetti. Can you pick up a few boxes, some sauce, and meatballs?”

“Sweetie, I can do much better than that! Don’t worry. I got this. Now go get that house together!”

A half hour later I was still seething. I kept replaying the phone conversation I had with Pete just a few minutes prior to my frantic call to Annie. Pete had been put in charge of entertaining some VIP clients and apparently bragged about the “legendary” dinner parties I threw. What he neglected to tell them was that the only thing I knew how to throw was my failed attempts at cooking into the trash bin! I took some comfort in plotting my revenge. As I finished the last place setting, I heard frantic pounding on the door. As I opened the door, a frazzled Annie barged by me with a large box in her hand. “There’s another one in the car!” She yelled over her shoulder.

“What is all this?” I asked as I set the second box down on the counter. Annie was already unloading the first box.

“Mac and cheese, salad, and roast beef.” She told me as she rummaged around in my cupboards. She placed the salad in a bowl and proceeded to scoop the mac and cheese into a baking dish. “Turn the oven to 350 degrees and let this bake for about a half hour or until the cheese gets all brown and bubbly.” She placed the dish in the oven, and then slid in the pan with the roast beef. “A half hour should be fine for this, too. It’s already cooked. It just needs to stay warm. Just don’t burn them!” She reached up and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. “They’ll be here any minute, so I better leave. The place looks great, Henry. Relax…you’ll be fine!” She was out the door before I could say “thank you”.

Ten minutes later I was nervously puttering around the house when Pete walked in with our guests. He gave me a worried look as he hugged me and gave me a quick kiss. “Thank you so much, sweetheart. I really owe you one. I’ll make it up to you later…”he whispered in my ear suggestively.

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Oh, you’ll make it up to me, but if you think you’re getting any anytime soon, think again!”

Pete gave me a chagrined look and then introduced me to everyone. I’d met his co-workers before and they greeted me with their typical arrogant indifference. The only exception was Rob, Pete’s assistant manager. Mrs. VIP looked around our modest home with distain. “What a ‘quaint’ home you have here.”

I smiled broadly, determined to play the consummate host, in spite of the irritation I was feeling toward Pete and his snobby guests. “Why, thank you so much! Pete and I think it’s perfect for just the two of us. We don’t really feel the need for anything too big or ostentatious.”

Mrs. VIP smiled stiffly. “I suppose we all must live within our means.”

Mr. VIP rolled his eyes behind Mrs. VIP’s back. “You have a lovely home.” He smiled at me.

I thanked him as Pete brought everyone their requested drinks and we all sat down in the living room. The conversation flowed easily among the co-workers and VIPs, and as the talk was primarily about business, I went into the kitchen and checked on dinner. It was pretty much ready, so Pete seated our guests at the dining room table. As I brought out the meal, Rob and Mr. VIP made appreciative comments. I was just proud that I didn’t burn anything.

Everyone seemed to enjoy the food and I thanked the heavens for giving me Annie for a best friend. Everything was going much smoother than I anticipated and I could see the look of relief on Pete’s face. I should have known it would be short-lived. Mrs. VIP took a bite of macaroni and cheese and exclaimed “Oh! Is this lobster macaroni and cheese?”

I turned bright red. I had no idea. “Um…”

“This is simply divine! What’s in your recipe? This reminds me of an old family recipe.”

“Um..well… it has cheese, and macaroni, and lobster.” was my eloquent reply.

“Well, of course it does my dear. Don’t be obtuse. What types of cheese and seasonings do you use? I swear it tastes just like my Oma’s.”

I was saved from having to respond when one of our guests mistakenly opened the door to the basement instead of the bathroom and let our dog out. Roscoe had one of the food containers in his mouth and was running all around the kitchen table, happily banging into everyone and creating quite the scene. Pete grabbed the box from Roscoe and set it down as he guided our rambunctious pooch back into our furnished basement.

Mrs. VIP walked over and picked up the box. “Well, no wonder your food tastes just like Oma’s. Apparently it is Oma’s!”

I looked at the side of the box and read “Oma’s Restaurant”. I put my head in my hands and groaned.

Mr. VIP looked at Pete amusedly. “So I’m guessing we could have saved a lot of time, money, and aggravation if we had just gone to our restaurant as we suggested.”

One of Pete’s co-workers snickered. “Nice dinner, Henry. Is this how you cook all the time?”

Pete looked like he wanted the floor to open up beneath him. I wished it would open up beneath both of us. Everyone had turned and was staring at me, waiting for me to respond. I was hard-pressed to come up with a more humiliating moment in my life. I finally settled on the old cliché ‘honesty is the best policy’. “No, Frank. It’s not how I cook all the time. If you wanted me to actually cook we’d be having burnt chicken breasts and salad from a bag.”

Mr. VIP smirked at me. “Well, we’re flattered you chose our restaurant’s food to pass off as your own.”

Everyone looked at me very strangely as I dissolved into a fit of laughter. I was imagining Annie’s face when I told her.