I’ve regaled you, dear reader, a few times with some of my more clumsy and amusing kitchen mishaps, but, thanks to a small dinner party I threw recently, I have a whole cadre of new tales to tell, which, if all goes according to plan, will put any fearful hostess-wannabe at ease about their ability to host lovely, entertaining dinners.

I’m going to Tarantino this tale and start at the end – plates licked clean, full bellies, and lots of laughter – otherwise, a successful evening. Now, let’s start at the beginning, and you’ll get a real feel for what a disaster in the kitchen I am….

Carrot Cake with Maple Frosting – What better dessert on a nippy fall evening than a towering, moist carrot cake, slathered with maple frosting? First disaster, one of my loaf pans managed to have gone missing. How? I have no idea, as I rarely separate them – this mystery, as of yet, remains unsolved. Second disaster, the cake didn’t cook all the way through, even after 50 minutes in the oven. When I turned my loaf pan over onto my cooling rack, 60% of the cake turned out properly, and the 40% in the middle slithered over the side of my loaf pan, and, after 50 minutes, it was just a shade more cooked than the raw batter. Oh dear.

Quick Fix – Take the remaining batter that would have gone into the missing loaf pan and make cupcakes out of the batter. Disaster averted, and no one was the wiser. I was not so lucky with some of the other mishaps.

Mashed Root Vegetables – I was thrilled at the prospect of turning my more exotic root vegetables – Harukei Turnips and parsnips – as well as potatoes into a creamy, comforting mash with Parmesan Cheese and nutmeg. But, as it turns out, a farm share’s worth of potatoes, harukei turnips, and parsnips yields just under 3 servings. As I hyperventilated and considered a last minute run to the grocery store, not entirely thrilled with the prospect of a 70/30 ratio of farm share to industrial agriculture, PT, generous soul that he is, offered to forego the mashed root vegetables, leaving adequate portions for the rest of us.

Quick Fix – Always, ALWAYS have a best friend around to save the day. Always. You’ll need someone to greet guests, take jackets, divert attention when the kitchen starts to smoke, offer to get more wine, clean up your spills, etc. Keep in mind that they may prefer the term ’sous chef’ to ‘lackey’, but, no matter what you call them, they are always and in all ways, indispensable.

Pork Roast – Dear CS was describing her soon-to-be new kitchen, highlighting the fact that the open concept of the apartment would allow guests to sit at a breakfast bar while she cooked, as opposed to the semi-closed-off space that both she and I currently have. Now, while we have similar spaces, we feel very differently about them. She wants to socialize, I want to hide all of the blunders that I inevitably commit in the kitchen (along with the mounting pile of dishes in the sink, and the mess that I’ve made of the floors and counter tops). I am clumsy – I spill, I drop things, I swear, I stub my toes, burn myself, and twirl around like a cracked-out ballerina in need of a fix – all while my guests are happily and hungrily awaiting dinner. This is not a scene I wish to put on display. Unfortunately, owing to the strange configuration of my apartment, everyone was seated and had a front-row seat to the final moments of preparation during which I should have been plating a lovely pork roast, but, instead, decided to drop a large portion of it and the salad on the floor. That’s fun. Matt offered to take the floored roast, as it hadn’t been on the floor for a full 5-count, but, thankfully, there was more than enough roast to spare a serving, and I was able to laugh off the incident.

Quick Fix – Laugh. Stop. Laugh again. Just remember, worst case scenario is to order out for pizza. Best case scenario is to laugh at your clumsiness, dump the mess in the garbage and move on. If you stress, your guests will stress – if you laugh, your guests will laugh. It’s as simple as that.

Thankfully, that was the end of my embarrassing gaffs for the evening. But, the fact is, there could have been twice as many and they could have been twice as bad, but as long as I have two things – a wing-wo/man and the number for the neighborhood delivery place on hand – I know the evening will turn out just fine.