Let this be a little known fact-Sometimes you don’t appreciate what others do until they are no longer there to do it. Case in point: Dinner Parties.
In Corvallis, it seems like we were always having a dinner party of some sort. Shannon would throw together a Mexican fiesta authenticated with real grasshoppers and mole smuggled across the border. Or perhaps a birthday feed of homemade lasagna or a Greek food surprise 21st. Sometimes we would cook a roommate meal of something special just because we loved hanging out together-and eating good food. As Kaci and Anneke and Shannon know, I was often visibly less than excited for some of these dinner parties. It’s not that I don’t love social gatherings or eating. It’s just that filling a small college house with people and feeding them several courses on a regular basis seems to sound remotely similar to work.
So when I first had a discussion with Ollie about American food we discussed the things he most enjoyed when in Arizona: pancakes. Before arriving in Ireland it never occured to me they don’t eat pancakes. It is such a staple at home. On any given weekend we pull out the pancake mix and maple syrup and go to town. It soon became apparent that Ollie would love to experience some American pancakes again and I would love to cook them. Further discussions on the horticulture field-trip bus led to the beginnings of a class pancake party.
A trip to Tesco revealed to me we would be having authentic homemade pancakes because finding pancake mix would be a feat in and of itself. This really was no problem because at this point I was exceptionally happy to be able to make something homemade for others-and making pancakes is remarkably similar to baking. What I had a hard time deciphering was ingredient proportions. Now- my class is made up of eight boys and one girl other than myself. I know these eight boys can eat a lot so I planned accordingly.
I also found that student housing is exceptionally ho-hum not just in America but in Dublin as well. A “student stove” means it doesn’t work well. And it’s not expected to. So much for calling Dick-the-landlord and begging him (again) to come fix it. They don’t even try. Pancake making was an experience with just the right amount of skill needed to crisp the pancakes perfectly while not burning them and allowing the middle to cook. It was a work in progress. I think I got it right by the time the last ones were done.
Further comments led me to the acknowledgement that pancakes are seen as a dessert. This became apparent when everyone had already eaten dinner and only wanted one (or perhaps two) pancakes. Why else would Americans pour copious amounts of sugary-sweet syrup over already sweet bready dough? Because they want to eat a light dessert- duh! Hmmmm…I had some explaining (ahem…demonstrating) to do.
This entire experience became a brilliant educational opportunity. I learned that a large house of college boys in Ireland live remarkably similar to their counterparts in America-clean and unkempt and in need of their mother. And that once again we Americans are living up to our standard of sweet dessert-y dishes as main courses. Most of all I learned that spending time with others-for others-in the kitchen is something that simply cannot be missed. Thankfully, my friends at home gave me the foundation to enjoy the dinner-party-pastime. After finally hosting one of my own and being able to fully appreciate the results, I realise this group-gathering technique will surely be utilised more often.
