it is not always the food that makes a perfect dinner party
Steven’s Viewz
How to Give a Bad Dinner Party
In the ’70s and ’80s, dinner parties were a regular thing. With shows like Come Dine with Me and the rising costs of eating out, dinner parties are making a huge comeback. Though some still entertain at venues such as restaurants, there’s nothing more intimate and fun than having a group of friends—or interesting people—over to your home for a private dinner party. But as much as a good host can make it a terrific night to remember, the wrong recipe for an evening can lead to a dinner party your guests will talk about for weeks—for all the wrong reasons.
When you’re hosting for wine connoisseurs or food gourmets, the conversation may revolve around cuisine and drink. But believe it or not, the best dinner parties don’t always centre on either. Of course, putting on a good show that doesn’t have you locked away in the kitchen all night is still a good idea.
In fact, one of the most amusing dinner parties I attended began with a call from a hostess who, not being known for her culinary skills and usually opting to dine out, invited me over to see her new kitchen. The day after the invite, she phoned:
“Darling, would you do your marvellous chicken fajitas on Friday?”
Asking was she planning a potluck (when everyone brings a course), Fajitas , don’t travel well. There was a pause before she added, “Oh, I thought you could cook?”
I replied, “No, it’s your turn,” and hung up!
I arrived at her stunning Hampstead home on the Friday. The table was beautifully set, and the new oven was lit—I was suitably impressed. The hostess had that pleased-with-herself look written all over her face; in fairness, this wasn’t her forte. Wine flowed, and nibbles were served, but an hour and a half later, no food had appeared. Looking at the oven, the chicken was still as raw as it had been on the Waitrose shelf.
“My love, is the oven actually working?” I gently enquired.
An hour later, we were still no further along. The hostess declared the new oven faulty and called for Chinese. We laughed and put the world to rights until two-thirty in the morning—it was just an amazing night.
It was topped off by a call on Tuesday: the repairman said the oven wasn’t broken—she’d simply forgotten to turn it on. I couldn’t help but ask when she was auditioning for Come Dine with Me. how she was going to cook ?
She replied, “Darling, you’re coming over and doing it for me!”
However, for your standard dinner party—especially if you’re not ordering in—don’t cook something that keeps you in the kitchen half the night or that hasn’t been tried and tested. Your guests have come to see you, not watch you stress. Pre-cooking as much as possible is always wise.
Also, always check what your guests eat. At one dinner I attended, they served an enormous piece of goat’s cheese as a starter. Honestly, I’d rather suck someone’s feet than eat that. I used the trick of eating without chewing, washing it down with water. Every time I looked at the plate, it seemed no smaller. Eventually, the host noticed, and I had to admit defeat. They looked less than impressed.
It’s smart to have eggs or a vegan option on standby—just in case a guest hasn’t disclosed their dietary needs.
What really makes a dinner party memorable is the company. Years ago, a socialite who was an expert at entertaining shared some tips with me. Never bring the same type of people together. Lady X would be far more intrigued sitting next to an up-and-coming artist than another socialite. Invite those who can sing for their supper—interesting, amusing guests who can tell a good story or keep up with the latest in books, style, or theatre.
Bring five actors together (unless they’re in the same production) and you risk them trying to outdo each other.
Being a good host is more than just checking glasses and topping up wine. It’s about ensuring your guests are enjoying themselves and actually get to speak. We’ve all been to that dinner where the narcissist dominates the conversation—and even when they pause, they jump back in to reclaim the spotlight. As host, it’s your role to steer the conversation so quieter guests also get a chance. Ask about books, films, theatre—whatever might draw them out.
And please, don’t try to be controversial. Sure, a lively debate can be great—if you know your guests well—but don’t go looking for drama. It could end your night on a sour note.
Avoid topics like age, weight, salaries, and politics. One evening, a guest at a dinner I hosted turned to another and said, “You know, when we get to our age it all needs a little lift—but I love my forties.”
The guest was livid: “I’m 32!” she cried, getting up and leaving the table.
Let the conversation flow. Unless you’re lucky enough to have a Stephen Fry at your table, make sure everyone has a voice. And never, ever be the Machiavellian host who opens the night with, “So, who voted for Brexit?!”
One of the worst dinner parties I’ve attended had all the wrong ingredients. We were eating out, so the food was decent—for some. There were quite a few of us, and things started badly: someone I love had reprimanded another guest for being late, which was rich coming from them. Pot, kettle, black, I thought. They’ve never been on time in their life. When I pointed that out, offence was taken—and they were still seething as we arrived.
Our host, Mark—though lovely and amusing—wanted to talk about one topic: a certain lady we’ll call Alice. He and Alice were once close, but no longer, which made her a target. Now, I love gossip as much as the next person, but I prefer it light, witty, and name-free. I’m known for knowing the gossip—but those who know me also know I rarely name names. I’m educated enough to entertain without tearing someone down.
But this monologue about Alice’s every fault dragged on and on. It felt like the only thing missing was Alice’s corpse—she was being verbally hacked to pieces. One hour later, Mark was still talking about Alice, with brief interruptions for “Let’s get another round in,” and one guest returning their starter three times. Some guests had begun looking at their phones. One even mouthed “Come sit with me!”
I suggested that, since we’d established Alice was a c—, perhaps we could move on.
That was met with, “Mark is talking—sssh!”
I would have left, but I was staying with one of the guests. Just when I thought the evening couldn’t get worse, a very late guest arrived—the cuckoo, who had seemingly replaced Alice in Mark’s affections. She briefly talked about another of my least favourite subjects—dieting—before the topic swerved straight back to Alice, in which the cuckoo revelled.
The toxic energy was palpable. Our host, smart as he was, was no Oscar Wilde, and only seemed aware of his own voice. Thank God I smoke—those breaks saved me. I even got a text from another guest: “Help!” They were bored stiff.
The cherry on top? Mark wasn’t even hosting. We were all going Dutch. After over two hours of his monologue, one of the guests even drove home drunk.
Here’s my final tip: If you’re hosting drinkers, be responsible. Make sure they have somewhere to stay, book a cab, or use a company that will drive their car home for them. As you pour that last tequila shot, you do not want to hear that someone was in an accident on the way home.
Happy dining,
Steven
2Shades Magazine 