How to Host a Dinner Party (5 page)

Guests, yes, you must bring something to a dinner party. The next time it seems too laborious to buy a bottle of wine, remember that in Japan, the cycle of gift-giving is so severe that if you return from a trip to Hokkaido without fake-milk-flavoured cookies for your co-workers, you will never get a promotion.

But you needn’t spend too much. Remember that the gift can be helpful, but it can also be symbolic, a gesture of our gratitude for our host’s efforts. A gift for the host can be anything — wine, flowers, fruit, a book, a card, a friendship bracelet, jam, unscented candles, a jar of Nutella (hint, hint), guajillo chilies, a copy of
Amazing Spider-Man
#50 to replace the one the host gave his niece as a birthday present when he was too broke to afford anything else, herbs from your garden, giant ice cube trays — but you can’t show up empty-handed because you are an adult.

The easiest thing to tell guests is, “just wine.” But if there are any gaps in your inventory, now is the time to fill them. If you want someone to bring dessert, just ask. Low on Riesling? Need cheese? Have a hankering for those almond cookies from your favourite bakery? Just ask, but do it now and be specific or you will get calls at 6:30 on Friday evening from the liquor store or bakery, asking you if you want German or Ontario Riesling, chocolate or cinnamon babka.

Guests, if your host is going all out with the meal, bring lots of wine. The average guest consumes two-thirds of a bottle over the course of dinner, so for a couple to bring one bottle between the two of them is cheap.

CEVICHE

The idea of ceviche — raw fish semi-cured in citrus juice — scares people off ever trying it at home, but let’s do it in baby steps. It will illustrate not only that is there nothing to be afraid of, but that this is a simple, fun, easy dish to put together.

First, go to a fishmonger (or the person in charge of the fish counter at your supermarket) and tell them that you want a piece of something fresh enough to serve as tartare or ceviche. Raise an eyebrow as you tell them, “No skin and no pin bones,” to suggest that you are serious, and that they will hear of it if you are not satisfied. Buy a couple of limes as well.

At home, slice the fish into bite-sized pieces. Squeeze some fresh lime juice over the top and sprinkle with a little salt. Watch as the colour and translucency change.

You have just made ceviche. We are going to get fancier and explore some more exotic variations. But before you get distracted by all that, or before you spend a day studying the process of denaturing (the juice of lemon or lime “cooks” the fish in a chemical process called denaturing, which breaks many of the bonds that hold protein molecules in their shape, changing the flesh from its plush, raw, translucent state to an opaque firmness), it’s better to grasp and demystify the basic essentials of this dish.

That’s all it is: citrus juice on seafood, which has an almost immediate effect. The thinner the fish, the quicker the citrus will permeate and change its flesh. If a piece of fish is the size of a grape, it should happen within a minute.

Once you’ve learned these basics — try this with at least one slice of fish to eliminate any nervousness about serving semi-raw seafood — move on to a traditional ceviche. This varies slightly across the Spanish-speaking countries where the dish is popular, but mostly it is whitefish with lime, chilies, onions, cilantro, and a few wedges of potato, sweet potato, or corn. The ratio of ingredients will change from town to town and from day to day. Often, but not ideally, it is made in large batches and stored in the fridge. Finishing it with olive oil will slow the acid’s effect on the fish, preventing it from getting mushy, but it’s better to make it just before serving, letting the fish’s freshness and flavour shine through.

I like to serve these two versions with warm, but not hot, rice (you don’t want to put the cold fish over hot rice). Some form of starch, which could also just be the traditional potato wedges, is helpful to absorb the spice.

Tuna and Tomato Ceviche

This is a variation I like to do in late summer, when tomatoes are in season.

In a mixing bowl, whisk the gochujang with the olive oil, sesame oil, and lime juice until it is the consistency of salad dressing (you can make this ahead of time). Add the remaining ingredients, reserving a pinch of the oregano and scallions. Mix and season with salt to taste. Sprinkle the remaining oregano and scallions over the top. Serve within a few minutes.

Makes four servings.

Tom Thai’s Ceviche

At his Toronto restaurant, Foxley, Tom Thai serves multiple variations on ceviche, often with Southeast Asian flavours. This particular one calls for sea bream, but you can substitute snapper, fluke, grouper, tuna, or halibut. Grouper and halibut are a bit denser, so if you’re using a fish like that, let it sit in the citrus juice an extra minute or two.

Fill a small pot with olive oil, enough to cover the shallots. As counterintuitive as this may seem, slowly raise the heat with the shallots in the oil until near high. When the shallots have browned, remove them with a slotted spoon. Set them to dry on a paper towel. Sprinkle with salt.

Combine fish, cucumber, mango, onion, chilies, garlic, salt, sugar, and fish sauce in mixing bowl. Squeeze juice of limes over the top and mix. Let sit for one minute. Add herbs and crispy shallots. Mix and season to taste with salt. Serve with rice to cut the heat.

Makes four servings.

Bonus Tip:
Look for limes with a smooth instead of bumpy skin. The bumpy ones tend to have more pulp and less juice.

T
here is nothing inherently wrong with a Moroccan meal. The country has a well-deserved reputation for layered spicing and slow-cooked succulence. But when Jesse invited me for a Moroccan dinner, he neglected to mention that he’d never been to Morocco, cooked Moroccan food, or even eaten Moroccan food. Pastilla is a challenging dish even if you know what you’re doing. If it’s made well, it doesn’t seem odd that a pie of flaky pastry is filled with cinnamon-spiced squab (or chicken) and topped with icing sugar and almonds. The unusual addition of powdered sugar on chicken is probably something you should experience first if you’re trying to approximate it at home.

“I hope this tastes good,” Jesse said as he laid it on the table, “because I have no idea how it’s supposed to taste.” This did not inspire confidence in any of the guests, nor was it warranted. Despite his good intentions, we can all see what Jesse did wrong here.

THE MENU

 
 Most people planning a dinner party make the same mistake of coming up with the concept before they are sure of their own capability. Often these ideas are the impetus of the dinner, inspiration gleaned from TV or magazines. But many hosts suffer from the opposite problem, which is not a lack of ideas, but an abundance of bad ones. Showtime finds them trying to reproduce the salsify wafer garnishes they saw in a cookbook by one of the world’s greatest chefs.