There was a time when I thought being a good host meant making everything perfect.
The table had to be beautiful. The food had to come out at exactly the right time. The house needed to be spotless. Candles lit. Music just right. Towels folded. Glasses sparkling.
And somewhere in the middle of all of that, I occasionally forgot the most important part:
The people.
As we move into November and the beginning of the holiday season, I have been thinking a lot about what actually makes someone feel welcome in our home.
It isn’t perfection.
It’s warmth.
It’s walking into a house and immediately feeling like you can exhale.
It’s someone saying, “Put your bag there. Come sit down. What can I get you?”
It’s knowing you don’t have to be careful around the furniture.
It’s a second helping being offered before you even have to ask.
It’s staying at the table long after dinner is technically over.
And maybe that is the kind of entertaining I’m most interested in now.
A Beautiful Home Should Still Feel Like a Home
I love a beautiful room. Anyone who knows me knows that.
I will always rearrange a table, fluff a pillow, move a lamp three inches and decide that yes, somehow, it absolutely made a difference.
But a beautiful home should never make people nervous.
The best compliment someone can give me isn’t, “Your house looks perfect.”
It’s:
“I feel so comfortable here.”
That matters more.
Especially as I get older, I find myself caring less about creating something impressive and more about creating something memorable.
There is a difference.
Make One Thing Special
You do not need twelve special things.
Pick one.
Maybe it’s the flowers.
Maybe it’s a fabulous dessert from a bakery you love.
Maybe it’s just the beautiful chocolate turkey I get each year from Paris!
Maybe it’s beautiful cocktail napkins.
Maybe you make your grandmother’s recipe.
Maybe you pull out the good china on an ordinary Saturday night.
Maybe you put everyone’s name on a little card at the table.
One thoughtful detail almost always feels more special than a room full of things you exhausted yourself trying to accomplish.
Stop Apologizing for Your House
This one may be for me as much as anyone else.
We have a tendency to welcome people into our homes and immediately begin pointing out what is wrong.
“Excuse the mess.”
“I haven’t finished this room.”
“I need to replace that.”
“Don’t look at the kitchen.”
Why do we do this?
Your friends did not come over to conduct a home inspection.
They came to see you.
Light the candles. Pour the wine. Put some music on.
Nobody cares that the baseboard needs paint.
Serve Food You Actually Enjoy Making
Nothing makes a dinner party more stressful than deciding that tonight is the night you are going to attempt a complicated recipe involving fourteen ingredients you have never purchased before.
I have learned this lesson.
More than once.
There is nothing wrong with serving the dish you know how to make beautifully.
In fact, I think there is something wonderful about becoming known for something.
The soup everyone asks about.
The roast chicken.
The pasta.
The salad dressing.
The cake.
Your house doesn’t need a new menu every time someone walks through the door.
Traditions are often born from repetition.
Let People Help You
This may be the hardest one for those of us who like things done a certain way.
When someone asks, “What can I do?” give them something to do.
Open the wine.
Carry these plates.
Put ice in the glasses.
Light the candles.
Bring that bowl to the table.
People actually enjoy being part of things.
Some of my favorite memories are not sitting elegantly at a finished dinner table.
They are standing around a kitchen island with people I love, somebody chopping something, somebody telling a story, somebody laughing so hard they have to put their glass down.
That is the good stuff.
Sit Down
This sounds ridiculous, but hosts forget to do it.
Sit.
Eat.
Talk.
Stay at the table.
The dishes will still be there in an hour.
One thing I have become increasingly aware of is how quickly a season passes.
A dinner passes.
A visit passes.
A year passes.
I don’t want to spend the entire evening cleaning the kitchen while everyone I invited is laughing in the other room.
I want to be in the room.
People Remember How Your Home Felt
They probably will not remember exactly what you served.
They may not remember the centerpiece.
They certainly will not remember whether your napkins were perfectly pressed.
But they will remember whether they felt included.
Whether you listened to them.
Whether you laughed.
Whether someone kept refilling their coffee.
Whether they stayed later than they meant to because nobody wanted the night to end.
That is hospitality.
Not performance.
This Holiday Season, I’m Choosing More of That
November can very quickly turn into a list.
Decorate this.
Order that.
Buy this.
Cook that.
Schedule this.
Wrap that.
And suddenly we are rushing through the very season we were supposedly trying to enjoy.
So this year, I am reminding myself that the goal is not to create a perfect holiday.
The goal is to create a life where people feel loved when they walk through the door.
The candles can be crooked.
The dinner can be late.
Someone can bring store-bought dessert.
And the kitchen can absolutely be a mess.
If the people around the table are happy to be there, I think we got it right.
That is the kind of house I want to have.
And increasingly, it is the kind of life I want to have, too.
Table Talk
What is the one thing someone does when they host you that instantly makes you feel at home?
I have a feeling the answers won’t have much to do with the table setting.
Laura
