saturday night out

I’m going to a small dinner party.  Seven people.  All of whom I know.  It’s a low-key, easy group.  Still, I ponder what to wear.

Almost without exception, going out in winter means wearing black leggings and a cashmere top.  I rarely deviate from this outfit, unless I wear a black skirt or jeans.  But lately I’ve been feeling too big for either of these.  This is also a group of skinny, fit people.

I put on the leggings with a shortish black cashmere cardigan, look in the mirror, and all I see is ass.  It feels as big as Kim K’s.  So I change into a slightly longer sweater.  Not that anyone will notice either way. 

I take a shower and wash my hair, loving my new Speakman showerhead.  In fact, I love it so much I forget for a moment I have no shower door.  I end up with a bathroom that looks like Sandy just came through.  A total mess.

I am the first to arrive.  Andrea and Veej, the hosts, are old friends. Though I  know them well, I'm surprised by their culinary skills.  Andrea makes an amazing chicken marsala while Veej prepares eggplant parmigiana and roasted vegetables.  I’m glad I wore a longer top, as I feel my lower half expanding throughout the night.

I bring a pear tart from Agata, which is good.

But so much better is the apple tart that Silvia actually makes.  

Silvia is originally from Italy and is also comfortable around kitchens.  Not that the Italy heritage necessarily has anything to do with it, but the only other person I know well who is also from Italy is Sal, Alexander’s grandfather, and he too is a master in the kitchen.

But good as the food is, it’s never about the food.  It’s the people that make the night so special.  We all leave close to midnight, stimulated and sated.