I went to an all-girls boarding school. You might imagine crisp, plaid uniforms; books balanced on top of heads; and single-file lines around every corner, but it wasn’t like that at all. It was at Miss Porter’s, in AP Physics, that I learned how to fly a paper airplane. It was there that I discovered my favorite book, The Great Gatsby, and proceeded to read it over and over in my free time. I played sports all three seasons, spent a majority of my time muddy, and none of my clothes were ironed. It was there that I learned what a party really was.
At the time I didn’t know how to cook very well, nor did we have ovens to cook in, but I began reading about food. I ripped out magazine articles to study why ingredients worked together, and why cooking times and temperatures could make or break a recipe. I found that without an oven I still could not be stopped, and thus my love for semi-homemade, no-bake desserts came to be. I learned that if I wanted to throw parties for a living and fill a table with beautiful food, I could. I learned how to learn, why a work ethic and education were important, and that allowed me to study and pursue a career in something I was passionate about. It may have been confusing to my American History and French teachers, but fast-forward a few years, and I was formally trained in the culinary arts.
Back then, and still today, it wasn’t about the color coordinating, or the décor hanging high, the picture-perfect moments we share on social media. It’s about the people who surround the table, like those girls from Miss Porter’s. It was, and still is, about the company and conversation, and the good food (no matter if some was store-bought). I’ve used my experience and excitement for food and entertaining to create each one of the 103 no-bake desserts in a unique way. Why 103? When you come to our house for dinner or dessert, we want you to know you can always bring a friend, or two, or three . . . and for those who have been to our home, you know firsthand that guests tend to multiply as the food continues to come out of the oven and cocktails are poured. One hundred recipes felt too rigid, so finite, and so by adding the extra three it became more welcoming—a reminder that there is always more room at the table.
As the ice cream became a melty mess on a hot weekend at home in June, more guests arrived, making the last-minute sticky situation a fun one. Strawberries were buy-one-get-one-free, and you better believe the Chocolate Mousse (page 173) I make now is far less temperamental than the recipe I learned in culinary school in France. When I melted chocolate to make Rainbow Mint Bark (page 60), I had a lot of pretzels and with a little extra white chocolate, a few got covered until smothered by sticky fingers and excited friends. Those vanilla cookies, that I did not bake, were turned into Vanilla Cookie Sandwiches (page 109), and the Almond Brittle (page 76) is probably the most sophisticated item on the menu—that, and the prosecco. On the flip side, the Mint Chocolate Chip Cups (page 200) are made with store-bought pudding, so although elegant, they remain easy. A perfect party isn’t perfect. That’s what makes it a party. In the end, you won’t remember the little things that didn’t go quite as smoothly as you hoped. But you will remember that it was a great party, and that is what is important.