Free Born Round: A Story of Family, Food and a Ferocious Appetite by Frank Bruni

potatoes) because, again, diners have very particular preferences within a given genre, even if the genre is as tangential as tubers. You must find yet more room on the buffet, because you’re also setting down a basket of napkin-swaddled warm biscuits and of course the gargantuan platter of carved turkey, with the dark meat clustered in one section and the white in another. Put out the sliced baked ham as well. Though no one’s bound to eat the ham during the main meal, it’s going to be necessary for the sandwiches later on, so you might as well make it available now, too, just in case. Worry. Are there enough yams? Has Dad fallen behind on the carving? Amid all the worrying and arranging, use the turkey drippings to make gravy. Gravy is the final, last-minute flourish.
     
    12:50 P.M.— Ring a bell. It’s the only way to summon and speed sixteen to twenty vigorously chewing, loudly chatting Brunis to the buffet table and then into their assigned seats, and you need them to move and eat right away, lest the eating schedule be ruined. Collect and throw away loose Post-it notes that have fluttered into corners of the kitchen counter or onto the kitchen floor.
     
    1:20 P. M.— Begin badgering guests to head back to the buffet table and help themselves to seconds.
     
    1:45 P.M.— Begin clearing the buffet table. Clear guests’ plates. Tell Harry to tuck his shirt back in.
     
    2:00 P.M.— Begin making espresso. Put platters of melon slices and apple slices and grapes, along with bowls of almonds, in the center of the dining room table. This is the beginning of the official thirty-minute pause before dessert, but you still have to have some food around. You can’t not have food around.
     
    2:30 P.M.— Repopulate the buffet table with two pecan pies, two pumpkin pies, two apple pies and an assortment of ice creams. Vicki has made chocolate chip cookies: put those out. Carolyn has made some pizza dolce and some traditional Italian biscotti: put those out, too. Dad ultimately remembered to get the cannoli: put those out as well. Put out a chocolate cake with chocolate icing because that’s Frank Jr.’s favorite kind and his birthday was a few weeks earlier, on Halloween. Put out a separate lemon-flavored cake because not everybody likes all that chocolate and the guests shouldn’t have to suffer for Frank Jr.’s peculiarities. To Vicki’s or Carolyn’s compliments that “you’ve outdone yourself,” laugh in a carefree fashion and say, “Oh, please, it was nothing!”
     
    3:15 P.M.— Permit people to get up and leave the dining room.
     
    5:30 P.M.— Summon them back. The buffet table now holds bread slices and rolls and carved turkey and ham and mayonnaise and cranberry sauce and lettuce and tomato and other fixings. It’s sandwich time. But guests needn’t feel confined to sandwiches. The quiche is back. The shrimp are back. Even the two kinds of stuffing and the manicotti are back. And, of course, the desserts.
     
    7:30 P.M.— Begin making doggie bags for all the guests. Include composed sandwiches in these bags: What if someone gets hungry on the drive back to New York? Include containers of manicotti, because there’s a lot of it left over. Do not include shrimp. They’ve been at room temperature too long and don’t travel so well.
     
    8:00 P.M. —Shoo Vicki and Carolyn out of the kitchen, where they’re furiously working to help you clean up, and tell them that you’ve got it all under control, that it’s going to be a snap, that the whole thing was a breeze and you’ve still got energy to burn. Hand guests their doggie bags as you kiss and hug them good-bye. Notice that only three yams went uneaten, and feel a knot in your stomach. Did you make too few? Might someone have forgone a yam for fear there wouldn’t be enough for others? Make a mental note: next year, more yams. And maybe also some lump crabmeat to go with the chilled shrimp. The appetizer hour needed a little something