It is said that the guest list is more important than the menu in determining the success of a dinner party. That is surely true, but how about the behavior of the host or hostess? Even with the most generous intentions, it is entirely possible to ruin your own soiree. For example, it’s hard for people not to notice that you invited them over, then failed to spend any time with them at all. Well, if you fail to start early enough on the dinner preparations, if you choose too many dishes with last-minute steps, this is exactly what happens. Entertaining 101: Interacting with your guests is part of the deal. Do you care more about the spanakopita than them? Don’t answer that, just get out of the kitchen.
The most common of dinner party faux pas is to tell everyone what is wrong with the meal before they’ve even picked up their forks – particularly because you probably feel, under the pressure of the situation, that nothing has come out as you had hoped. If the sesame noodles were better last time you made them, you should conceal rather than publicize this fact. And if they really are too awful to serve, don’t serve them. Shut up and let the guests enjoy their food without having to devote their evening to rebuilding your self-esteem. Be steadfast: Often I will get through the whole event without breaking down and at the very end blurt, “So no one thought the soup was too salty?” Really, what are they going to say?
One of the most memorable meals I ever had was served by an elderly gent who had my mother and me over for plain, microwaved chicken breasts, rawish Minute Rice, sliced white bread, and some violently orange baby carrots, also ã la micro-onde as I recall. It would have ruined it if he’d apologized, and he did not.
Closely related to the Miserable Faultfinder, and often appearing in concert with him, is the Rueful Dreamer. Because really, you saw this great recipe for Thai noodles in the food section of the paper, but you couldn’t get the lemongrass. You might have done your tiramisu, but a simple bowl of berries seemed more seasonal. No, you should not tell people what they almost won, or what they could have been eating – this, too, is essentially another ruse to make yourself seem like a better cook than you are. Most people love spaghetti and meatballs, as long as you don’t start raving about the lobster ravioli you saw on the Food Channel.
Speaking of lobster ravioli, perhaps you have met the Insufferable Überchef. The Überchef can prepare complex dishes from many different cuisines, and he does. He prepares them all, seemingly, at a single meal. And for each of the many first courses and entrées and desserts, as well as for all of the wines carefully selected to go with them, study notes are provided. Guests will be well-fed – but more importantly, they will be thoroughly intimidated. In many cases, the Überchef will also have an Invisible Man problem, since the reduction sauce with the 30-year-old port can’t be prepared in advance. Perhaps he does not realize Joel Robuchon and Charlie Trotter didn’t make it, and since all but other Überchefs are afraid to invite the gratuitous gourmet to their humble boards, this condition is its own punishment.
Please note: Because the host should never be more swoozled than the guests, or at least not dramatically so, do not start drinking more than one hour before the guests arrive. Okay, two on the outside. Once you drop the salad bowl, ladle gumbo all over the tablecloth, and knock over their wine glasses, it will be too late.
Worse even than the Sloppy Drunk is the Divorce-in-Progress. It is a challenge to have people over to dinner when you are in the midst of serious relationship issues, and for some of us, this is a permanent situation. Nevertheless, nobody wants to have dinner with the Bickersons. As hard as it is, you have to avoid carping at each other all night and trying to involve people in your long-running arguments. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been guilty of this, but one night I finally saw the error of my ways. We were guests at the home of a couple we knew slightly. He was the chef of the pair, a bit of an Überchef actually, and was taking his sweet time getting his famous jambalaya on the table. She wasn’t happy about this. Nor did she like the method he used to prepare the rice or the casserole he chose to put in the microwave, and when, in the final moments, the entire Pyrex dish smashed on the floor, my husband and I worried we might soon be called as witnesses at some sort of trial. I can’t even remember what we did eat, so I hope that’s not one of the questions. 
This article appears in December 22 • 2006.