Michael’s Bourbon Sour (Slushie)
- 2 ounces of whiskey sour mix (preferably Master of Mixes)
- 1 ounce bourbon
Blend in electric blender with desired amount of ice. Place in a goblet. Finish with a bourbon-soaked cherry and a slice of orange.
It’s been said that my parties will make the South rise again, which is a lovely compliment. I was asked to write about entertaining because I know how to host a great party. Just this year, I was honored to be included on The Saloniere’s list of the 100 Best Party Hosts in America. To be honest, it wasn’t always that way! Let’s go back in time to the 1960s, when I was a newlywed. Lon and I decided to have a dinner party in our new, modern apartment. We invited two or three couples, our best friends at the time. Almost all of us were in school with crazy schedules, so Saturday night was our time to relax and have fun.
I wanted to impress our guests. Since complicated, “gourmet” dishes were very popular, I decided to make beef stroganoff. I had been given a book called If You Can Read, You Can Cook, and I made the mistake of taking the title literally. I knew how to read—I was a graduate student, after all. But I was awfully cocky to think I could pull off a recipe that had so many steps. I definitely cut corners on the rest of the menu. We served sour cream and onion soup dip with chips for hors d’oeuvres (which I still serve today because it’s really good). The house drink was that frat specialty bourbon and Coke. If you wanted to make it really redneck, you could put peanuts in it.
I’m sure that drink has been the downfall of many a hostess, and that night I was having so much fun that I got a little sloppy with the stroganoff recipe. I kept adding ingredients and it ended up very soupy, with pieces of meat floating on the top. One guest not-so-politely called it monkey barf. The noodles, a key part of the stroganoff, stuck together in clumps. Then, to add to the excitement, a dish towel caught fire and I had to stomp it out.
The rest of the evening was a blur. At some point I took all of my clothes off and got into bed. I vaguely remember our guests calling out their goodbyes as they left. They were probably starving and headed for the nearest diner. That was definitely the low point of my entertaining career. After that, I started watching Julia Child and taking it all more seriously.
I became a more experienced hostess, but whenever possible, I found novel ways to stay out of the kitchen. After we moved to Virginia, Lon decided that he wanted to entertain clients at home, in his “castle.” My solution to that problem was to call the local Chinese restaurant, order a banquet of food, and serve it on my best china. Apparently, the sight of chicken chow mein, moo shu pork, and fried rice displayed on Spode or Minton, instead of in a little white box with a wire handle, is irresistible. Our guests couldn’t get enough of it and, for some reason, thought that I was a brilliant hostess.
Thrilled with my ingenuity and success, I did the same thing with Mexican food—I ordered in takeout and plated it as elegantly as Dover sole meunière at La Côte Basque. If our guests were really lucky, they were treated to platters of fried chicken and corn bread, traditional Southern comfort food prepared by our housekeeper, and that’s still one of my favorite meals. Lon, who was an expert on wine, always knew exactly what to pair with my whimsical menus. I think mixing the high and the low amuses people. Trying to be too fancy, formal, or correct can be a bore. You want your guests to relax and have fun.
I’d like to point out that one of the best hosts of all time was a Southerner. The great writer Truman Capote grew up in a small town in Alabama. In 1966, when he was living in New York, he conceived and executed the Black and White Ball, which is considered the most famous party in modern social history. Capote planned his ball the same way he wrote his blockbuster books In Cold Blood and Breakfast at Tiffany’s: he agonized over every detail—the theme (a masked ball), the guest list (the who’s who of all time), the dress code (black and white), the food (his favorites—spaghetti and chicken hash), the décor (minimalist—he said the people were the flowers). He mixed it up, high and low, and his budget—fifteen thousand dollars—was small, even for the time. As a result, we’re still talking about that party today. The first lesson of entertaining is to be creative, to have a personal vision, and to dedicate the requisite time, effort, and resources to bringing that vision to life.
But let’s clarify “resources.” If you throw enough money at an event, you can recreate the Hall of Mirrors at Versailles, but that doesn’t mean your guests will have a good time. I’m shocked by how much people spend, with the sole purpose of impressing their guests. But I’m never impressed by excess: all I can think about is what a waste of money it is. People are more likely to remember your party if you do something genuinely amusing. Creativity and wit always trump wretched excess.
For example, we read about the tens (and sometimes hundreds) of thousands of dollars celebrities spend on their children’s birthday parties. Not long ago, a friend had a party to celebrate his son’s first birthday. It was in a public park, and he brought in a little petting zoo. There were bunnies, chicks, and kittens. The kids loved it. The adults were charmed. And the birthday boy had more fun holding a baby animal than he would have had watching Cirque du Soleil in his back yard.
A Southerner’s door is (almost) always open because we love to entertain at home. That’s our favorite setting. New York is different. When I lived there, we often hosted dinners in restaurants, or bought a table at a charity event. Here, whether the occasion is fancy or casual—a holiday cocktail party or a down-and-dirty crab feast—we’re likely to do it at home, which makes the undertaking more personal.
Since being Southern equals hospitality, I’m always prepared to offer a guest a drink. There are several standing bars on the first floor of my house—in the morning room (where the lady of the house used to meet with staff), the library, and the butler’s pantry—and they come in handy for different kinds of entertaining. The correct way to set up a bar is to have an assortment of glassware, basic kinds of alcohol and mixers, and when we set up for a party, fresh lemons, limes, and doggie swizzle sticks, which are very cute. Michael recommends having tons and tons of ice—his formula is eight ounces for every guest. At parties I serve only white wine, rosé, and champagne—never red, just in case there’s a spiller in the group.
Our working bar is in the butler’s pantry. It’s Michael’s stage, where he makes his famous cocktails, and I must say his performance always gets rave reviews. There’s an ice machine, a small wine cooler, a big wine refrigerator in the adjacent room, an electric corkscrew, other bar hardware and equipment, and a variety of glassware.
Michael likes to have a range of ingredients on hand in case someone wants an unusual drink—we keep onions for Gibsons, cherries for Manhattans, and olives for martinis. Stock two or three kinds of vodka because everyone is so fussy, and a few brands of gin. It’s nice to have rye and several good bourbons—Southerners like Bulleit for a mixed drink and Pappy Van Winkle if you’re serving it straight up. Select your alcohol on the basis of taste, not price. Yes, they should be good quality, but the most expensive brand is not necessarily the best. We always keep a very good dry vermouth, orange bitters, and regular bitters, in case we get a request for a champagne cocktail.
The bar in the library is for after-dinner drinks. When I have parties I fill the decanters with brandy and cognac, and make sure the appropriate glassware, including snifters for brandy and cordial glasses, are on the bar cart. The library has become a hangout for Whitney and his friends, who come in and smoke cigars and drink brandy until the wee hours. Whitney keeps two humidors stocked with Cuban cigars (with distilled water in the bottom to keep them moist.)
I just gave Whitney a beautiful Christmas present—an antique crystal decanter in the shape of cockatoo sitting in a silver cage and surrounded by shot glasses. Actually, it is more of a present for me, but he’s so hard to buy for that I’m pretending it’s for him. I’ll keep it until he gets married. Meanwhile, I’m getting thirsty with all this talk—is it five o’clock yet?
Well this seems like a good time to talk about “taking your medicine.” People think I drink martinis all day long. I wish! I don’t drink that much, but I do enjoy a perfect martini every day at 5 p.m., and I come by my appreciation for the drink honestly.
My parents, who had a great love story, shared a charming tradition when I was growing up. Unlike children today, I did not go to restaurants with my mother and father at night, spread my coloring books on the table, and make annoying noises. I had supper in the kitchen, a bath, homework, and then I was off to bed. Meanwhile, every evening, my parents enjoyed an interlude they regarded as “their time.” Before dinner, they sat together and chatted over a shaker of martinis. I thought it was so adult and cosmopolitan, like something out of a Nick and Nora Charles movie. I remember once woofing down a tiny drop when the glasses came back into the kitchen, and I liked it.
Ed Fleming, my second husband, was related to Ian Fleming, the writer who created James “shaken, not stirred” Bond and who apparently made the best martini in the world. Ed inherited the family talent. What makes a martini perfect? I depend on Michael, who has the magic martini touch, to smash ice with a mallet, in a special Lewis bag, no less, to ensure the perfect consistency. Then he shakes precise proportions of gin, vermouth, and ice, pours it into a glass, and garnishes it with olive or lemon, depending on my mood.
Place gin and vermouth (ratio 1 to 2, or 2 to 3) in a shaker. Fill a shaker with ice. Let sit.
Using the Lewis ice mallet and bag, crush a new batch of ice into splinters and place in a glass almost to the top—add an olive or a twist of lemon. Give the shaker two or three good shakes (if filming, do it with a flourish!) and pour into the glass.
Sip appreciatively.
I prefer Beefeater gin—it’s not the most expensive brand, but I find it to be less biting than other kinds. I’m joking when I refer to my martini as “medicine,” but gin is actually full of botanicals, including juniper, lemon peel, coriander seed, almond, Seville orange peel, orris root, liquorice root, angelica root, and angelica seed. Vodka martini lovers take note: vodka comes from the lowly potato, while gin is elegant and healthy. For vermouth, I prefer Boissiere, which is dry, white, and French.
When Michael goes away on vacation, I’ll abstain. Or if I’m at a restaurant or a bar and the martini is below my standards, I will not drink it. Period. Because I have no interest in an inferior martini. Recently I was interviewing for a second butler. I don’t have a husband right now, so I’ve been filling up the house with butlers, and as far as I’m concerned, you can’t have too many of them. I explained that top-notch martini making was one of my chief requirements for employment. I don’t care if a candidate is a serial killer as long as he can make a great martini. Luckily, Jesse passed the test and I hired him on the spot.
You’re going to love this. There’s a reason why I use the term “dressing drink.” Being a host, or a guest, comes with certain responsibilities. When I’m having company, I know that all of my attention will go to my guests, and I’ll be too busy to sip a cocktail or a glass of wine. So, while I’m upstairs, putting the finishing touches on my toilette, I enjoy a leisurely “dressing drink,” a martini or a bourbon slushie. By the time I put on my lipstick, I feel as if the party has started!
Blend in electric blender with desired amount of ice. Place in a goblet. Finish with a bourbon-soaked cherry and a slice of orange.
As you’ve probably gathered, I’m all in favor of drinking—as long as it’s not carried to extremes—and that can be a matter of personal interpretation. My prescribed dosage is that women should have one drink a day, whether they like it or not, and men can have two, and I got that advice from my doctor at the Mayo Clinic. Whitney has a broader approach. He calls alcohol “chicken soup for the soul,” an observation I keep threatening to needlepoint on a pillow. But let me remind you that after one or two drinks too many, you don’t even taste it, so what’s the point? My rule for determining when a person’s had enough to drink is what my friend at @welovepataltschul calls the test for “The Louboutin Lush.” If you are incapable of walking up stairs in high heels—that applies to men and women—you’ve had too much. And if you take off your heels to feign sobriety, that’s cheating.
Southerners, of course, should get a free pass when it comes to drinking. Yankees don’t understand leisure and the casual cocktail, so I think it is totally different for them. It’s hot down here, and cooling off with a drink is a Southern tradition we’re all doing our part to keep going.
I thoroughly enjoy planning all kinds of gatherings, large and small, with one notable exception. The meal you will never sit down to in my house is brunch. I don’t even like the word, and I don’t like having to function early in the morning. I think it’s uncivilized. The rest of the time, be my guest for dinner, cocktails, and any other excuse I can think of to entertain!
Hosting a dinner party is like trying to write a haiku,[1] or more accurately these days, a tweet. You’re working with a limited amount of time, space, and “characters.” But that’s precisely what I love about an intimate evening in the dining room—it’s edited for maximum impact.
Sitting together at the table for a meal was a ritual in our family. But one of the problems with society today is that we’re always eating on the run. That makes a dinner party a special occasion.
Sometimes I have a reason to entertain—a friend is in town, or I haven’t seen someone in a long time. Other times I just feel like having a dinner party. I usually invite eight to ten people, and I put a lot of thought into assembling a lively group. I think of a few “adults,” people of the same age who know each other, or who might enjoy meeting for the first time. Then I throw in some younger people and a few Southern eccentrics. I like an eclectic mix. Once I’ve determined my guest list, I pick up the phone and call each one, which sounds so retro in our email/e-vite world. Conversing with a human reminds you why you wanted to invite the person in the first place.
Of course, the best-laid guest lists can go awry, or at least unexpectedly. I invited a married couple to come to a dinner party and they accepted. God knows why. It turned out that I was the only person on the planet who didn’t know they were getting a divorce. They sat at my table and snarked and sniped at each other all night, like heavyweight champions. After our initial discomfort, we all settled in to watch the fight. It was great theater! My friends are still talking about it.
I have a philosophy about the dining room, or dining area. It starts with a good table. The Jeffersonian approach calls for the table to be round because it is more democratic. Without a “head” or “foot,” everyone is equal. And it shouldn’t be too large. It may sound counterintuitive, but guests should be crammed together, rubbing elbows, so to speak. People will be more talkative if they are close together—it has something to do with herding. Michael considers table-setting an exact science. He walks around the table measuring the distance from the edge to the plate. He recommends leaving an inch.
I use a diagram in my Leathersmith of London’s hostess book to come up with a seating plan, and when I set the table, I use place cards to indicate where the guests will sit. I have an eclectic collection of placecard holders, including a set of little pigs. And I treasure a collection of antique jockey figurines I purchased at auction from the estate of John Hay Whitney. My rule is to split up couples and individuals with the same profession—no lawyers sitting next to lawyers, or they’ll talk shop all evening. But I don’t subscribe to the precept of alternating boy/girl/boy/girl in a seating arrangement. If I think two people will find each other interesting I don’t care about gender. In fact, I enjoy hosting all-male dinner parties. I often did that when Arthur was alive—we’d have dinner, and then the “boys” would go off to play poker. Now it’s become a tradition on Southern Charm. Whitney, Shep, Thomas, Craig, and sometimes JD, are the core group.
When I decorate a table, I try to think like a set designer. I want it to be beautiful, but I also want to create an atmosphere, so I start with a basic setting and then add the touches that will bring the table—and the dinner—to life. If I am hosting a formal dinner, I use a linen tablecloth. Otherwise, the table is set with linen placemats, with specially cut felt mats underneath to hold them in place. For everyday meals and luncheons, I use rush mats. My linens are custom made in Madeira, Portugal, by Léron Linens. Because I’m so finicky about how my table linens are maintained and stored, they’re always ready.
Here’s the best way to store linens: napkins and placemats should be laundered and pressed, and each set (holiday, white lace, floral, etc.) is placed on its own heavy cardboard sheet (which we buy at an art supply store), and labeled. I don’t have to remind you how important it is to have a good labeling machine (my new one, the Dymo LabelWriter 450, is very easy to use because it connects to my computer). When the table is ready to be set, each board is easily retrieved, so it’s like having a well-ordered library of selections. I keep tablecloths (after they have been laundered and pressed) in drawers lined with scented paper.
I’m very fussy about my napkins; I want them to be grand. Vintage linens tend to be more generous in size than modern ones, which are too skinny for me, and the best place to find them is online and at flea markets. My greatest coup was when I came across a quantity of large linen napkins with an embroidered crown in the corner. They had been made for the King of Bavaria. I was so excited when I found them—I bought tons and I use them all the time. They’re real conversation pieces, because they’re unusually large. At my table, with one of these napkins in your lap, you could gut a deer and you wouldn’t get a drop of blood on you.
I know it’s a luxury, but I have several sets of silver and china—some casual, some formal—and I use them depending on the occasion, my mood, the season; there are many variables. Menu is a practical consideration. For example, I won’t serve meat on a dish that has gilt, or an embossed design, because the blade of a knife might scratch it. It’s better to serve soft food on highly decorated china.
The one thing that irritates the hell out of me is chargers—you know, the oversized plate that serves no purpose but to hold a plate? It all started when Salomé asked for the head of John the Baptist on a charger, which is not what you want to think about when you’re dining. I think they are pretentious, totally unnecessary, and silly. You’ll never see one on my table, and I hope I never see one on yours.
I have a varied collection of crystal for different drinks and occasions—Waterford, Baccarat, William Yeoward—and some great antiques, including European glasses with dogs etched on them. The glass I’m passionate about is the old-fashioned champagne coupe, the wide-mouthed champagne glass that used to be popular. Supposedly, its rounded shape was inspired by Marie Antoinette’s breasts, which may or may not have been used to create the mold. They fell out of fashion in the 1970s (the glass, not the breasts) when it was thought that the narrower flute did a better job of preserving the bubbles. I think the coupe is much more elegant and festive than the flute, and honestly, I drink champagne so fast that I never have to worry about preserving the bubbles.
My centerpieces range from formal to whimsical. For a formal dinner, a low floral arrangement is a good choice, but I avoid flowers that give off too strong a scent. I find that a clever assortment of objects can be eye-catching, too. When I hosted a dinner to celebrate the arrival of Thomas’s new baby boy, I called it a “Blue and White” dinner (because the color blue is for boys of all ages). With the help of my friend, Carolyne Roehm, the author of twelve books on décor and entertaining, I gathered blue and white porcelain jars from all over the house and arranged them as my centerpiece. They looked beautiful!
Ask the Expert: Carolyne Roehm
Carolyne and Chauncey.Let’s talk about flowers. What can you do if you don’t have a garden? Where should we buy flowers? What’s the best way to achieve that beautiful, “just-picked” look? And can you tell us your tricks for transforming the lowly carnation or sunflower into a superstar?
Whenever I lecture, I like to say, “There are no bad flowers, only people who have no ability to use them correctly.” In my first book, I campaigned for the return of the carnation and other so-called old-fashioned, or “boring,” flowers. These lovely pariahs have been ostracized, or overlooked, and for no good reason. People assume that I just reach into my big garden of exotic blossoms when I make an arrangement, but the truth is that I use all kinds of flowers—even alstroemeria gladiolas, and marigolds—from everywhere! The grocery store is a big source—also Trader Joe’s, Whole Foods, and I like potted plants from Lowe’s or Walmart. Many wholesale markets will sell to nonprofessionals toward closing time.
If there are no flowers, I create centerpieces with fruit, greens, weeds, piles of shells or nuts, or whatever. If nothing is handy, I pull out a soup tureen, or an object that I love, and place it on my table.
You’re a big believer in movable feasts. Can you talk about how you have liberated the table from the dining room?
I love to entertain where the view is pleasing. If it is summer and my rose garden is in bloom, I set my table there. If it is cold and snowy I set my table next to a favorite fireplace. I no longer have many dining rooms—my rooms do double duty, such as here in Charleston. The library is turned into the dining room, or the greenhouse is transformed into a dining room—the same with my stable. Anything goes. Unless you entertain all the time, the dining room is just an unoccupied, rather lonely, space that you walk through on your way to someplace else.
When you entertain, you have an incredible eye for detail and use the table to tell a story. How can someone learn to create a more expressive setting?
What’s the first step? Study examples of work you like, pull out photos from magazines, or take screenshots of online images, and keep a file. Sources of inspiration are limitless—the season, a new object you have acquired for your table, the selection from your garden or the flower market, the interests of your guests. Have an inquisitive eye and see where it leads you. But if presentation is not important to you, find another way to make your entertaining unique. Maybe you’re a marvelous cook, or you curate the best music!
What about the people who didn’t inherit their great-grandmother’s china and silver? Where can they shop for affordable table settings and what should they look for?
So many people of great style did not inherit things—and even if they had, chances are they might not choose to use them. I’m a perfect example. My grandmother loved many Victorian-influenced decorative items. While I learned so much from her and we shared so many interests, our styles were not the same. When I was younger and longed for beautiful things (but had no money), there were few places to shop. Today, the availability of stylish, yet affordable, glasses, dinnerware, flatware, and other decorative objects is staggering. You can go to Crate and Barrel, Williams Sonoma Home, Ballard, and even Target. I just bought some serving trays, wrapping paper, and Christmas decorations from Lowe’s!
For those who are color-wheel challenged, what are the two color combinations guaranteed to make a table pop?
My go-to combination would be blue and white, and I love these colors so much that I wrote a book about them. Celadon is also a good choice, because green is a predominant color in nature. Or, if you want to keep it simple, use all white, and make texture the chief design element. I could go on forever on this subject…
Then there was the memorable Southern Charm stag dinner when I decorated the table with plastic alligators arranged in compromising sexual positions. I couldn’t help myself. It was too good!
In addition to placecards, I like to put something playful at each guest’s setting. Sometimes I order specialty chocolate creations from Christophe Artisan Chocolatier here in Charleston. For one dinner party I selected Louboutin high heels for the ladies—and they looked exactly like Louboutins, except they were edible—and chocolate cigars for the men. At my Indian dinner, I ordered chocolate elephants.
On other occasions I use custom-made cookies as placecards, and have the person’s name written in icing. Here’s a great tip: You can find cookie cutters in any shape or size, everything from the state of Texas to a tiara, at cookiecutters.com. Bake them yourself, or, if you’re like me, bring the cookie cutters to your favorite bakery (I use the Sugar Bakery in Charleston), and they can make cookies to your specifications. I often have alligator-shaped cookies wearing appropriately colored ribbons at my parties. And for one of my Southern Charm stag dinners, I decorated the table with what I called “male chauvinist pigs” made out of marzipan, which I found on the internet. These treats double as decoration and dessert.
When I plan a menu, I’ll choose fun food over fancy food every time. You don’t have to serve a standing rib roast or a Cordon Bleu dish to your guests. Give them good old-fashioned comfort food—something like lasagna and salad, or meatloaf, followed by cookies and candy—which they will appreciate much more than a complicated dish that kept someone in the kitchen all day. At my dinner for Thomas I served “Mad Men” comfort food—shrimp cocktail and that old glamour puss cherries jubilee flambé—because it seemed appropriately male. The people, not an extravagant menu or an elaborate décor, make the party.
I always have someone to serve at my dinner parties. But if you are doing it yourself, arrange the food on a sideboard (every dining room should have one) so guests can get up and help themselves. If it is a very casual meal, you can serve “family style,” with platters on the table.
One of the questions I’m asked most frequently is: how do I stay composed and charming when the company is not? As viewers know, some of the dinner parties on Southern Charm turn into trainwrecks, with guests abandoning the food and running for their lives. These situations tend to be extreme. Remember the time Thomas hosted a dinner and managed to insult every single guest before the first course was served? This kind of madness never happens at my house. Everyone knows that they have to clean up nicely and mind their manners at Miss Patricia’s, or else! Nonetheless, dinner parties definitely present some challenges, because guests are unpredictable. The evening could be pleasant, explosive, or a snoozefest. You never know what will happen.
A hostess (or a host) is a ringmaster. At your circus, you have to pay attention to everything, including the conversation at large. Are your guests playing nicely with each other? I find that the two most incendiary topics are politics (especially these days) and religion. Lively discourse is one thing, but never get into an argument socially about these subjects. As much as I admire diversity and respect other people’s opinions, I refuse to get into a fight, because you’re never going to change anyone’s mind at a dinner table.
What can you do to avoid fisticuffs?[2] Say something like, “Now that’s an interesting observation,” and immediately go on to a neutral subject. People can’t force you to engage. A good diversion is to ask a question: “I’ve been meaning to ask you about your…” and fill in the blank. Your trip to the islands. Your new dog. Your son’s wedding. Your French lessons. Anything to head off a violent disagreement. And keep a note of humor in your voice. In the dining room you’re always amused, never angry. That’s the essence of Southern charm.
Too much drama is one problem, but the opposite is no better. So, what do you do about a dinner party with no pulse? You know, the one where the silence is deafening, when all you hear is the sound of the silverware hitting the plate? If your guests are not doing their job by being witty and fascinating, you have to help them along.
I think that obvious opening gambits[3] (“What are the three foods you would bring to a desert island?”) can seem contrived. Since you’ve followed my advice about reading and you’re up to date on current events and popular culture, you should have plenty to say. At one of my last dinner parties I mentioned that Charleston had been voted the number one city in the world, and that inspired a spirited discussion about whether or not it deserved the honor. This is why I suggest reading the National Enquirer. No joke, it is a great source for the latest believe-it-or-not stories.
When you are at a seated dinner, speak to the guest on your right while eating the first course, and turn to the guest on your left for the second course. This custom is called “turning the table.” It is an excellent habit that prevents anyone from being left out of the conversation.
Everyone enjoys talking about food, books, travel, local events, and discoveries of some sort. But in my decades of socializing, I’ve found that the foolproof way to spark a conversation is to let a person talk about himself, which never takes much coaxing. It works at dinner parties just as well as it works on dates. I remember being seated next to a famous nuclear physicist at a dinner and wondering, What the heck will I talk to this man about? As soon as I asked him to explain black holes, Foucault’s pendulum, and anything else I could think of that related to his profession, we were off to the races. He never stopped talking, and he told his wife later that I was the best conversationalist.
We’ve all experienced that terribly awkward moment when a guest breaks something—that can stop any conversation dead in its tracks. Even if it’s a precious antique, I clean it up and never make a fuss. I don’t want the person to feel uncomfortable. And repel any offers to replace it—it was an accident. We love our things, but they’re just things, after all.
Dinner parties have a life of their own. If my guests are having fun, we linger at the table, then move to the drawing room or the library for an after-dinner drink and more spirited conversation.
I’ve said it before, but device etiquette bears repeating. The rule used to be “Don’t put your elbows on the table.” Today, people (well, impolite people) have two iPhones on the table and maybe an iPad on the seat next to them. It has gotten out of control. I have asked guests to put away their cell phones, because there is nothing ruder than to sit with someone who is cutting their steak and checking their tweets. I think it is unacceptable behavior. Social media is an addiction, and a lot of people who would ordinarily be very courteous can be thoughtless and disrespectful because their perception of what is appropriate has gotten blurred. Phones should be put away and turned off.
When I was a young adult, a cocktail party was the place to be. Cocktail parties were sophisticated, glamorous, and populated by Beautiful People behaving outrageously. Wasn’t Breakfast at Tiffany’s a documentary? One of the best suggestions I can give to my younger readers is to bring back the cocktail party. To be clear, a cocktail party is something you host in your home during an appointed time frame—let’s say 6–8 p.m. Guests are invited for drinks and conversation, with a few nibbles thrown in to offset too much drunken abandon (a little is fine). Here’s why I think the cocktail party should be revived:
Obviously, the size of your guest list depends on how much space you have. I usually invite forty or fifty people for big cocktail parties, more if we’re outside. The best time slot for cocktails is from 6–8 p.m., when the evening is young and people are fresh and bright. As for the dress code…if the party takes place during the holidays, people enjoy dressing up in festive “cocktail attire.” At other times, “business attire” is fine.
I want to make sure that everyone is well fed, so I put out plenty of food, savory and sweet. My menu is usually the same, with a few variations. I serve assorted tea sandwiches, deviled eggs, a big bowl of shrimp on ice, ham on biscuits, cheese straws, celery stuffed with pimento cheese (a Southern favorite), and a beautiful cheese platter. I know what I like and I know exactly how it should be prepared and served, even if I rely on a caterer to do it for me. You may choose to make your own food (I’ve included several recipes), but if you have any intention of enjoying your own party, consider hiring a waiter and a bartender—the one extravagance that is absolutely worth it.
I’ve known Katie Lee, culinary personality, Food Network and Cooking Channel star, and the author of The Endless Summer Cookbook and The Comfort Table, for thirteen years. She learned true Southern cooking from her Grandma Dora while growing up in rural West Virginia, and she really knows how to host a party!
Ask the Expert: Katie Lee
On the piazza with the lovely Katie Lee.You grew up in the South; what dishes, or “comfort foods,” are most vivid in your memory?
Some of my earliest memories are from my grandma’s kitchen. I loved making biscuits with her when I was a little girl. She would pull a stool over to the counter, and I would climb up and pat out the dough. I just loved them. She made the best sausage gravy and would ladle it over the biscuits. Whenever I want to feel close to her, or if I’m homesick, I’ll just make a big batch of her biscuits.
In your experience, what recipe—especially something Southern—is a showstopper with guests?
Everyone loves deviled eggs at a cocktail party. My friends have come to expect them, and if I don’t make any, I will hear about it. I like to use different garnishes, depending on the occasion. If we are having a more formal evening, I will spoon a little caviar on top, or if it is a casual Sunday evening, a small piece of bacon. People always go nuts for fried chicken, too. You can never go wrong with fried chicken.
Southern food sometimes has a reputation for being unhealthy—is there a way to update the old favorites so they don’t break the calorie bank?
I look back and wonder how we weren’t all as big as a house with the food we used to eat. It is easy to make a few adjustments, though, to make Southern food not quite as fattening. If I want the crunch of fried food without all of the fat, I will bread chicken or fish with crushed cornflakes, then bake. It isn’t exactly the same, but it does the trick. I am not a fan of low-fat mayonnaise, so for mayonnaise-based salads, I use half regular mayo and half Greek yogurt. Instead of a ham hock in my collard greens, I use garlic and a little soy sauce. Buy a gravy separator; it’s an easy way to skim off some of the fat and not lose any flavor.
Food presentation can be so important when entertaining—do you have any quick tricks for making food look really appetizing?
I am a big fan of serving classic comfort foods on my best china. People love simple foods and you can easily make them look really special. Meatloaf takes on a new life when served on a formal plate at a table that is perfectly set. Take the time to set your table the night before your dinner party, light candles, make a beautiful centerpiece, and the food will shine.
Young singles keep asking me for romance advice. What menu is guaranteed to win a heart? And does it involve chocolate cake?
A homemade meal is definitely the way to anyone’s heart. In my personal experience, men love red meat. I think it is primal. Make him a big ribeye and he will do anything you want. Sear it in an iron skillet, baste it with butter, herbs, and garlic, then finish it in the oven. They also go nuts for warm chocolate chip cookies. Make the dough in advance, then bake them just before serving. The house will smell incredible, and nothing beats a warm chocolate chip cookie.
For a cocktail party, I have a large floral arrangement in the living room. But I tend to do something less traditional on the table in the butler’s pantry. For example, I have an amazing Buddha that attracts a lot of attention. And we found a huge statue of Jack Daniel down south—I put him out when we do a cocktail party because I think he’s amusing—at least he is to me.
When I’m confident that everything is ready, I enjoy the momentary quiet before my guests arrive. This is my time to put on my caftan, apply my makeup (which I call my “war paint”), sip my dressing drink, and do a final walk-through. I look at the way the food is laid out—some will be passed, some will be in the dining room, and the messiest food will stay in the butler’s pantry—I don’t want people eating barbecued chicken in the drawing room. Finally, I check the candles and rearrange the pillows.
At this point, the worst thing a guest can do is to arrive early. Michael will let them in, but they can just sit and stew until the official hour. At the other end of the rudeness spectrum are the people who turn up at 8 p.m., just when the party is supposed to be ending. Your time is important, but your host/hostess’s time is important too, especially when they have gone to the trouble to entertain you.
Once the party begins, I dedicate myself to greetings, making introductions, rescuing wallflowers, and discreetly watching to see that glasses are refilled and hors d’oeuvres are circulating. Keep your pets away from the food if they’re anything like Jaws, one of our beloved family dogs and a legend in his own time.
Jaws came to us when a friend of Whitney’s offered us a puppy from his basset hound’s litter. How could we refuse? He was adorable. But he never stopped teething and chewing on everything! It was 1975, and we had just seen the movie Jaws and noticed the similarities between the shark and our new dog, hence the name. We marveled at the way our Jaws could eat anything and everything: paper towel rolls, mail, a block of cheese from a cheese tray…
At one memorable party, Jaws yanked a Smithfield ham from a serving table and dragged it behind a Chinese decorative screen. We could hear him chewing on it, but no one had the nerve to get close enough to take it away because he was growling while he was eating. The ham was so salty that, eventually, poor Jaws had to come out for water. When he did, we grabbed the remains. He drank constantly for a week—even from the toilet bowl.
But that’s not the worst thing Jaws did at a cocktail party. Another night when I was hosting a party in honor of a famous senator, he got into one of the guest rooms, ransacked a suitcase, and swallowed a diaphragm.[4] Then he came downstairs, made a lot of choking noises, and threw up the diaphragm in front of everybody, including the woman who owned it. There was a deadly silence. I reached for a napkin, deftly picked up the mess, and whisked it—and Jaws—out of the room. I guess it was a form of entertainment, because we talked about it for years to come.
After two hours of high-speed socializing, I’m ready to call it a night. I expect everyone to leave at the designated time, but if they don’t, I have several foolproof ways of dealing with pesky stragglers. First, I turn off the music. Then I walk around the room with a candle snuffer in hand, gradually extinguishing the candles. The picture lights are next—I turn them off one by one. Finally, I start picking up the glasses—even the ones that people are still drinking. Once the room is dark and the alcohol has stopped flowing, most guests get the message (how observant!) and say goodnight. But there’s always someone who foolishly believes you want the party to go on all night. That’s when I say, “Do you need me to call you an Uber?” Or, “Can I walk you to your car?”
One of the benefits of living in the South is being able to entertain outside. I think that people today spend far too much time hunched over their smartphones and their iPads. They’re so wrapped up in their work that it’s important for them to be outdoors on occasion. One of my favorite things to do is to have a lawn party in the late afternoon, around 5:30 p.m. I have two small lawns here, so I set up badminton on one lawn and croquet on the other. And when I call people to invite them, I tell them that it’s going to be really casual and to bring a bathing suit.
Now I’m going to share my best party tip of all time: rent a margarita machine. There’s something about a frozen margarita that says “fiesta!” It’s always a hit: when people are drinking margaritas, can a conga line be far behind? I usually get one from a party rental company, and I hire someone to accompany it and make the drinks, because the proportions can be tricky.
Second-best tip of all time: serve “poptails.” I bought a book called Poptails: Sixty Boozy Treats Served on a Stick, by Erin Nichols, and discovered an absolutely brilliant thing: adult popsicles, or “poptails,” including cosmopolitans, mint juleps, and dirty martinis. You mix the ingredients and pour them into special popsicle molds, so the alcohol freezes. They’re refreshing, but with a kick.
In addition to serving margaritas and poptails, I fill a great big decorative clamshell with ice and stock it with bottles of beer, white wine, and rosé. I think that covers the party’s alcohol component nicely. As for the menu, classic finger food never goes out of style. While people swim and play croquet, tea sandwiches are passed. There are two Southern classics that are my absolute favorites: white bread with homemade pimento cheese, and white bread with heirloom tomatoes, butter, salt, and pepper.
I always enjoy a good lawn party, but the South can get unbearably hot during the summer. Nobody ever, ever, entertains outdoors in August in the South. Remember my adage, “One cannot drink cheap wine in the heat.” Not that I would serve cheap wine, but in August you should take a vacation or you should stay inside and read a book.
Even the most experienced hostesses have their brushes with disaster, especially if weather is a factor. Let me tell you about the party I almost didn’t have. I’m always on the lookout for a fun theme if a party is going to be filmed for the show, because it makes it more visual. One day when Michael and I were out driving, we passed a hot-pink house on the beach. It was called Flamingo Manor, and it had statues of flamingos in the front. My first thought was to rent it for a party—I love flamingos and the color pink.
Whitney and I invited about two hundred people, many from out of the area. I came across some darling inflatable flamingos and ordered ten, not realizing that there were twelve in a package. When we put them in the pool it looked like a pink Jurassic Park (or as if Thomas Ravenel had been there). Of course, I had a stunning pink caftan at the ready. It’s important for a hostess to look good and to feel comfortable, and a caftan takes care of both. I arranged for a caterer, a pink bar, a photographer, and a fortune teller. I think guests enjoy hearing predictions about the future, as long as they’re lighthearted and optimistic.
The menu was my usual assortment of party favorites: tea sandwiches, ham biscuits, deviled eggs, sliced filet, and a fanciful dessert table with pink meringues and a pale pink cake. The pièce de résistance, I decided, would be an old-fashioned champagne tower. You don’t see them much anymore, except at weddings. But I think they’re beautiful and people are always fascinated by the way they work.
When you stack levels of champagne glasses—coupe, not flute—in precise configurations, and slowly pour champagne into the top glass, it magically flows into the glasses underneath. Get out your ruler and follow the directions below. You can tell your intellectual guests that this is a living illustration of trickle-down economics at its best.
If the idea of constructing a real champagne tower seems daunting to you, there is a way to cheat. Fill the glasses with pink champagne and stack them on Plexiglas trays—they’ll look pretty standing there even if they don’t do tricks.
After all of my careful party planning, everything seemed to be perfect. But in reality there is no such thing as perfection. The one thing you can count on is something going wrong. In this case, on the very Saturday of my party, Charleston was struck by a major hurricane—meteorologists predicted the worst rain in a thousand years. That says it all. The city flooded and much of it ended up under water. I don’t know who had it worse, the out-of-town guests who were stuck en route because of the storm or the ones who managed to get here and were stranded.
The food had been delivered, so we had enough cocktail sandwiches and hors d’oeuvres to feed two hundred people. At first it seemed festive to indulge in so much party food, but after eating it for five days we couldn’t look at finger foods or pink confections anymore.
Did we lose heart? Not at all. We bounced right back after the storm. I ordered the exact same food for the following weekend, and rounded up as many of the guests as possible (some of the out-of-towners couldn’t make it). The biggest problem was that Flamingo Manor was unusable after the storm. At the last minute, I had to use my own backyard. We put the flock of inflated flamingos into the pool and started construction on the champagne tower.
The most important thing is not to get upset—be resilient. Even if the party is not exactly what you imagined, even if your best-laid plans are undermined, if you move ahead and have a good time, your guests will too. And my guests thoroughly enjoyed the Flamingo Party: The Sequel as much as they would have enjoyed the original.
Cameran showed up wearing a hot-pink dress and a flamingo on her head, and she’s the only one who could pull off that look. Shep was especially dapper in a shocking pink tuxedo shirt, but what was really shocking was his pink flamingo Speedo, which he unveiled when he stripped down to his skivvies and jumped into the pool. Then Cameran fell into the bushes. Some of the Charmers can get pretty wild, and that’s what keeps life interesting. And the fortune teller, bless her heart, told me I was rich.
[1] Haiku: a traditional Japanese haiku is a three-line poem written in a five/seven/five syllable count.
[2] Fisticuffs: a fight with the fists.
[3] Gambit: a remark intended to start a conversation.
[4] Diaphragm: a small rubber contraceptive dome.
