Baptism part II - the social scene

There's nothing like a cultural milestone to create an excuse for a party. This works in my favor as I love the prep-work that results in a well-executed party. Read: I loves me some cooking for a crowd.

After church Baby-daddy and I busted ass to get back to the house as soon as possible. The invitation included a self-catered reception for friends and family. Food for 50 waited in the fridge. I didn't even bother changing out of church clothes. I simply tied on an apron, preheated the oven and began pulling trays out of cold storage. The reception buffet menu included crepes chicken diane with a savory sauce, cranberry relish, lemon bars, a chocolate tarte, a fruit tarte, ginger cake, and North America's largest ambrosia salad. All but two of the pastries we'd made the day before.

As the crepes warmed in the oven, I found myself regaling a food writer for the NYT with a lesson in how NOT to cook fried apples for breakfast. My tip: wear a full-length shirt. Fresh, diced apples tumbled into melted butter swirled with spices in a pan over high heat will SPLATTER any flub extending below a sports bra, causing an irritating burn that does not feel good under a hot shower.

At some point a phalanx of women exiled me from the kitchen, relaying orders to mingle and enjoy the party. Mingling does not come easily to me. I cast my watery irises around the room until they came to rest on the empty chair next to baby's gramma, tucked back in a corner. Conveniently close to everything but the tray of crepes, and out of the general din I perched there slurping coffee and grapefruit and whiled away at least 45 minutes prying tales of the San Diego fires, pet stories and historical moments in the life of baby-daddy from the dread, capricious MIL.

Eventually, even she ran out of things to say. So I relocated my fleshy regions to a comfy space on the couch and exchanged pleasantries with the author of some top-rated children's books, a psychologist on the verge of adopting a baby, and some baby relatives whose relationships never quite settled in my mind. Finally everyone left and then I could mostly hear again.