Free Home by Another Way by Robert Benson Page B

plan to be when we have it and whom we plan to have it with. One of the rules of our life together is to be sure that we are very thoughtful about all food events for the day. The rule is as applicable on St. Cecilia as it is anywhere else we happen to be.
    Food is not such serious business to some folks, but it is to us. It could be that we do not have enough to do. It could be that we would rather do this than things we ought to be doing. Or it could be that we have caughton somewhere that sharing a glass of wine and breaking bread together really matter.
    So before we have our nap, we have to review all the possibilities. At our house this is known as the food-event planning meeting.
    The meeting—it is not a formal affair, there are only the two of us on the committee, it can be held in the shower or on the porch or by the pool or in the hallway, and notes are rarely taken—begins when one of us says, “What do you want to do for dinner?” If you are too specific with the first question—“Where would you like to go to eat ribs tonight?” for example—you reveal your hand too quickly, and you cut off the sort of give-and-take that is conducive to domestic tranquillity.

    Planning a food event involves meticulous attention to three particular areas—menu, location, and personnel. If you are just planning a meal, then what you eat is all that matters. If you are planning a food event, then whoand where come into play. (It occurs to me just now that a chart would be helpful, perhaps.) The order in which these things are tackled is determined, not by the person who asks the first question, thereby calling the meeting to order, but by the person who answers the first question.
    “I don’t know. What do you want to do?” is not a fair answer and is easily rebuffed by experienced food-event committee people. It is like learning to return a serve in tennis, though some people are better at it than others.
    A first answer like “Stay in” indicates that the primary concern is location.
    “We haven’t seen so-and-so in a while” leads directly to personnel.
    “Something large” means the menu questions come first.
    After many years as a standing member of the food-event committee, one learns what to listen for.

    Are we going out this evening or are we staying in? is the first question. Did we miss the sunset last night because we were getting ready for dinner and so we might rather stay home? Or is it going to be rainy and we really would rather not be out in the weather this evening? How long has it been since we cooked together, just the two of us, laughing and telling stories and wondering out loud about the things we have been wondering to ourselves while we work around each other in the kitchen? Is there a full moon that makes it a good night to stay home and eat by candlelight beside the pool?
    If we are going out, are we feeling social or antisocial? Do we feel like liming this evening?
Liming
is an island word that means hanging out with your friends, talking about the weather or sports or geopolitics or anything else that comes up. Or do we still want to go out but really want to go to a place where there is not much chance of running into conversation? A place where we can take our books or our cards or our dominoes and be only with each other?
    If we are going out tonight, then do we want to go out at lunchtime as well? If we have this kind of food or that kind of food for lunch, will that change our dinner plans?
    If we are staying in, what are we cooking and do we have everything we need or do we need to go to the market? Which brings the potential for eating out at lunchtime back into play, of course, since we have to go to town anyway. Which brings location and personnel back up for discussion.
    And then, of course, in case we change our minds because the weather changes or we nap for too long, do we have some food in the house that will work for a backup plan?
    You will notice that all of the