Are table manners a lost art? I hope not! I love setting the table for a dinner party, and anticipating the night ahead, where people might sit, and how to make everyone comfortable. Table manners give us a framework for a very intimate social encounter, providing a set of conventions so we can relax and enjoy the companionship of others without worrying about what it is we are supposed to do.
My introduction to formal dining and very proper Emily Post-style etiquette began with my first visit to my college boyfriend’s house. He came from a very well-to-do family, and this stay was certainly eye-opening. A rather crusty older Irish woman greeted me at the door, and took my coat and bag to the guest room. Ilene was the live-in housekeeper Bill had grown up with, and someone not to be trifled with. I did not know anyone who grew up with a live-in housekeeper.
The house on the outside appeared modest, but it was grand inside. The entry foyer had a marble floor with steps down to the living room with arched windows that framed the gardens outside. There was a dining room to the right and sitting room to the left. We came in too late for dinner, so it was not until the next morning when I came down for breakfast that I realized I was in a very different world.
The dining room table was set with a white tablecloth and napkins, the silverware properly arranged alongside beautiful plates. There were bowls of fruit and jam, baskets of bread, and a butter dish. Bill’s father was at the table, reading the paper and drinking coffee. I felt so out of place.
He asked me about school after first ringing (!) for Ilene to bring me coffee. He instructed me to tell Ilene what I would like for breakfast and when she came in, I froze. Do I say I would like an omelet, or would that be too much? Just “some toast, please” or would that be insulting? Fortunately, Bill arrived at the table and asked for eggs over easy and I said “me too, please.”
Our breakfast came to us under covered silver domes, placed before us then ceremoniously removed by Ilene. It was amazing. Juice was poured from a pitcher and more coffee was served from a silver pot. I watched Bill and his father use the smaller plate for their toast and followed suit. As anxious as I was sitting at that table, that was all I had to do: watch and mimic their actions. It wasn’t so hard. During the years we dated, I was introduced to artichokes (a tricky food to eat “properly”) and caviar, as well as unexpectedly delicious cold meatloaf sandwiches Ilene made us when his parents were not home. They were a favorite of Bill’s.
My parents grew up on farms in Europe. Meals were always served family style, my mother never sat down until everyone had their fill, and elbows on the table were a common sight. Cutlery was placed on the table next to your plate, but paper napkins were in a holder for you to grab as needed. You didn’t have to wait for everyone to be served before you started eating, unless it was a special holiday meal. Then you waited until after grace was said. Conversations were boisterous; people constantly talked over one another, usually loudly, and if you wanted to be heard, you needed to acquire the skill of diving in at the slightest indication of a pause. Better yet? Say something totally outrageous. It might grab enough people’s attention, so you could then say what you wanted to say. All of this felt normal growing up.
After I left home, I learned about more about formal table manners through various jobs: a country club waitressing gig in college, working and dining at a five-star hotel in San Francisco after college, and attending formal business dinners when living overseas in Hong Kong. The motivation at first was to simply fit in but as time went on, I came to like the ability to move in those worlds.
Life did not, however, hand me a live-in housekeeper, or a lavish home, not that I was looking for or expecting that. I met a man who enjoyed entertaining as much as I did, and since I also loved to cook, it was a good pairing! We found a circle of friends who also liked to entertain and began a rotation of one fabulous dinner party after another. Along the way, the basic rules of table manners became automatic, allowing me to focus on developing my own dinner party style.
My friend Carol kept a box of mismatched silverplate to use for large parties, and set the table with beautiful woven placemats and linen napkins. Their table for 16 stuck a balance between elegant and up north — a large mounted buck head, sometimes “dressed” for the occasion, presiding over the fireplace mantel in the dining room. The food was always delicious, wine generously poured, and everyone hung out in the kitchen to watch or help with dinner prep. She remains my style maven guru to this day.
During my young adulthood, Martha Stewart was just beginning her career and was a good guide for me. I still have one of her first books, “Entertaining,” given to me early in my marriage. The book is organized around dinner party themes and is full of good recipes and photographs. What stands out most to me though is this statement in the introduction: “The principle behind each dinner is the same: the desire to please someone in a personal way.”
The idea for this column came with a notion that many people don’t entertain as often as they use to, family dinners are less frequent given our busy lives, and the focus on manners may be lost. At this time of year, we have a trifecta of holidays that center upon meals shared with family and friends, giving us an opportunity to practice the art of the table.
You can easily learn the tenets of basic table etiquette from several sources. The Emily Post Institute has easy-to-follow instructions online, broken down into short videos. The cookbook, “Joy of Cooking,” has wonderful sketches showing you where to put silverware, glassware, napkins and plates, along with guidelines for service.
Let’s circle back to the phase from Martha’s: “the principle is … the desire to please someone in a personal way.” I used to be terribly nervous before giving a dinner party, fretting over the menu, the perfect table, even what to wear. That “desire to please” was there but my focus on perfection missed the point. People are not looking for perfection. They are looking for connection, celebration, relaxation, and entertainment. Both hosts and guests can help ensure these goals are met.
As hosts, greet guests warmly, and introduce strangers to one another. Offer drinks. Give anyone asking to help a job to do. Quietly discourage those who bring a cellphone to the table. When it is time, gather everyone to the table and ask that they wait to begin eating. Pick someone to share a thought before the meal begins (we typically hold hands at this moment.) Be sure to bring everyone into the conversation. Give enough time between courses to make the meal a leisurely one. As a guest, share a good story or ask questions to get to know someone better.
And relax. You’ve got this.
Congee
Since it is just post-Thanksgiving, my first recipe is a reset from all the richness of the past few days. It’s an ultimate Chinese comfort food. You can use turkey broth and add some shredded turkey meat to the topping.
Serves 3 – 4
3/4 C. medium grain (sushi) rice
2 qt. chicken broth
1/2 C. water
2-inch piece fresh ginger, peeled, plus more for topping
2-3 scallions, one whole piece for the soup, two sliced thinly for topping
Salt to taste
Soy sauce
Sesame oil
Chili nut paste (optional)
Leftover chicken or turkey, shredded
Rinse rice well in a sieve, giving rice a good stir to help it break up while cooking. Place rice in a medium pot with the broth and water (you can use all water if you’d like or less broth and more water for a milder flavored congee) and the nob of ginger and scallion. Bring to a boil, stirring occasionally to be sure rice isn’t sticking to the bottom. Lower heat and partially cover pot, and let simmer, again stirring occasionally, until liquid is most absorbed and rice becomes a porridge consistency, about 1 ½ hours. Season to taste with salt.
Remove the ginger and scallion, and serve congee in deep bowls, topped with a drizzle of soy sauce, sesame oil and sprinkle of sliced scallions and fresh ginger. Some also like the heat of a chili oil too.
— Rose Hollander and Lydia Kwa
Cranberry Nut Tart
A great dessert for a dinner party this time of year. Easy, festive, surprisingly delicious. Can be made a few days in advance as it keeps well.
Serves 8 – 10
Nut Crust (makes two 9-inch crusts)
10 oz. finely chopped walnuts
8 oz. (2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened
1/3 C. sugar
3 C. all-purpose flour
1 egg, beaten
1 t. vanilla extract
Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Mix together all the ingredients until well blended. Divide dough between two tart pans with low sides, pressing the dough evenly into place. Chill for 30 minutes, then bake 15 – 20 minutes until golden brown. Cool before filling.
Filling for one tart, may be doubled:
1 envelope unflavored gelatin
1/4 C. cold water
3 C. fresh cranberries
1 C. sugar
1/2 C. red currant jelly (you can also use red raspberry jelly without seeds)
Place gelatin in cold water to soften. Combine cranberries, sugar and jelly in a saucepan and cook for ten minutes over low heat. Cool slightly and stir in gelatin. Cool thoroughly, then pour into tart crust. Chill. Serve with whipped cream.
— Rose Hollander, adapted from “Entertaining” by Martha Stewart