That Time I Brought Bagged Salad to a Fancy Dinner Party

Yes, you read the title of this post correctly.

I’ve been dreaming of the day I could have a fancy dinner party with friends, each of us cooking something that we know will turn out spectacular. This is similar to my dreams of a dumpling party, but in this dream we all use nice plates and set the table and whatnot. Well, my chance came and I blew it. Or rather, I won’t take full credit for this failure:  Charlie and I both blew it.

Our neighbor and friend Jon has tried for a while to get us to come over so that he can graciously cook us dinner. He’s a former sous chef and cooks pretty frequently, so we were totally down for the prospect of a fun, fancy meal with some drinks, especially since someone else was taking the lead. We solidified the date – a Saturday night – but then Charlie and I dropped the ball. We made no plans and didn’t even think about what we could bring… well, I take that back. He made plans to go play golf that day and I decided (begrudgingly) to go to the mall and buy some spring wardrobe additions.

All of a sudden, dinnertime had drawn nearer and nearer, and I was just leaving the mall. We had this idea that we’d make a clever signature cocktail for everyone, but there was no time for research at this point. I rejected Charlie’s ideas for complicated bourbon drinks which he so obviously absent-mindedly googled on the golf course (um, the weather was warm, veto), and I picked up the three ingredients for Caipiroskas. Yes, we brought limes, sugar, and vodka. Thanks for the idea, Dad.

I asked Charlie what our contribution to the actual dinner was supposed to be… other than liquor. “Um, Jon said we can bring a salad.”

Now I knew what “salad” meant. At least I knew what Jon probably had in mind to accompany his nice home cooked meal. Some toasted almonds, some goat cheese, maybe some berries, maybe even a homemade vinaigrette. But I was in no mood for this. Wandering the mall on a busy-as-hell Saturday had taken it out of me and I was exasperated. Charlie had not helped me gather ingredients thus far. Hell, he was still playing golf.

So when he suggested, “Just get a bag of Caesar salad from the store,” I did. I knew it wasn’t right, but whatever, I was done with chores for the day. I just wanted to get home, drink a beer, and finish a blog post before we actually had to go to dinner.

So, bag of salad in (Charlie’s) hand and tray of freshly made caipiroskas in the other, we headed to Jon’s apartment where we could smell the scent of delicious meats from down the hall.

The fact that I sent Charlie back to our apartment to get my nice camera tells you just about all you need to know regarding this superb meal. It was an amazing spread and a dinner party I’d gladly attend again… assuming I’d be invited back.

Our hosts were in the midst of cooking and welcomed us happily with an offering of drinks. There was a decanter of red wine that was refilled multiple times throughout the evening, making our cute little attempt at mixology somewhat obsolete.

Aside from the ridiculous red wine braised short ribs (on the bone!) that were accompanied by a veal stock demi glace, Jon had roasted broccoli. My brain at this point screamed: Thank God, they already have something green! Hide the bag of salad for God’s sake!

Then we saw the most beautiful dessert ever:  a pear and brown butter almond tart that Jon’s girlfriend Lauren had delicately assembled and baked.

But by far the most shameful portion of the evening came early on, when we saw that there were three plates appetizers, each of the utmost quality. Charlie then joked that we’d just hang on to the bag of salad and, you know, maybe eat it for a late night snack. [Jokes are such a good coping mechanism for embarrassment.]

Jon and Lauren had created some Fromage Fort, crostinis slathered with cheeses that had been melted together with white wine and garlic. They were too kind: “Oh, we just needed a way to use up the ends of all the leftover cheeses we had.” Suuure, you guys. Also, no, I’d never heard of “fromage fort” before that night, but I loooved it. And honestly, if they had that many butts of leftover cheese, we need to hang out way more often.

And the cheese didn’t stop there. Jon artistically plated a some fried halloumi cheese tossed with almonds, figs, and herbs, and drizzled with some honey. I felt like a jerk making everybody wait as I photographed it. It was fantastic.

Quite possibly the dish that made me feel the dumbest about our lack of contribution to this fancy dinner party, however, was the huge plate of crab cakes made with lump crab meat (and barely any filler, aside from some carefully brunoise’d bell peppers, of course). God, we are such assholes. I’m pretty sure that the salad never left its paper grocery bag.

We carried on, drinking, talking, and laughing, snacking on the wonderful appetizers until it was time to sit at a proper table and eat, something I realized I hadn’t done in someone’s home in a while. There were even cloth napkins, you guys. Charlie and I are big couch eaters; I know, it’s terrible.

Jon glazed and plated the short ribs beautifully, and then we feasted.

At the end of the meal, Lauren deftly removed her tart from its mold and served us each slices with a dollop of whipped cream.

That tart though. Amaretto, pears, almonds, and a shortbread crust, wow. I am the type that is always and forever ordering chocolate and peanut butter combinations at restaurants; maybe creme brûlée if I’m truly struck by it. This experience may make me give the fruit desserts a second look next time… maybe.

We had several more rounds of drinks and one round of Cards Against Humanity before calling it a night. Thanking our hosts profusely, we exited with all of the little grace that we had left… and the vodka. (God, we could’ve at least left them that!) I’m not quite sure what happened to the bag of salad. One day, we’ll make it up to these guys and cook them something fancy too, though I’m not quite sure it’ll ever quite measure up to that evening’s dishes.

You can also check out Lauren’s eloquent account of the evening; she is all too kind regarding our dinner party etiquette… she doesn’t even mention the bagged Caesar.

Have you guys every committed a fancy dinner party faux pas? Or am I the only idiot who would even think of doing something like this?