THE NEW RULES OF THE DINNER PARTY

Because the best nights rarely go according to plan.

By The Magazine

There was a time when hosting meant matching plates, elaborate centerpieces, perfectly timed courses, and a host who somehow managed to make all of it look effortless.

We’re officially over it.

The dinner parties we want to attend now are a little less perfect and a lot more fun. The glasses don't necessarily match. Someone is helping in the kitchen. The flowers came from the corner market. Dinner is running twenty minutes late, the wine was opened an hour ago, and nobody seems particularly concerned. Because somewhere along the way, we confused being a good host with putting on a good performance.

We'd like to change that.

Here are the new rules.

1. Don't wait for an occasion

A weeknight is an occasion.

So is your friend being in the neighborhood. Or finding tomatoes that look particularly good. Or realizing you haven't had everyone around the same table in too long.

The best dinner parties often begin with a text sent far too casually:

Dinner at mine?

The Ėditure rule: Don't wait for something to celebrate. Being together is enough.

2. The table shouldn't be perfect

Actually, we'd prefer if it weren't.

Mix the old plates with the new ones. Use the glasses you bought on vacation. Put the fancy serving bowl next to something you found at a flea market.

A table is much more interesting when it looks like it was put together over years, not bought in one afternoon.

The Ėditure rule: If you love it, it matches.

3. Light everything with candles

This one isn't negotiable.

Overhead lighting has never made dinner better.

Candlesticks, votives, tiny tea lights—use whatever you have and use more than you think you need. Everyone looks better by candlelight. So does dinner.

The Ėditure rule: Turn off the big light.

4. Cook one thing really well

You do not need five courses.

Make the pasta you're good at. Roast a chicken. Put something in the oven that can stay there while everyone arrives.

Then outsource shamelessly.

Buy the bread. Buy dessert. Put olives in a beautiful bowl and accept the compliments.

Hosting should allow you to actually attend your own party.

The Ėditure rule: One homemade hero. Everything else is negotiable.

5. Never underestimate something good in a bowl

Olives. Salted almonds. Parmesan broken into pieces. Potato chips. Strawberries. Chocolate.

Not everything served before dinner needs a recipe.

What matters is that there is something on the table when people arrive—and preferably something to eat with one hand while holding a drink with the other.

The Ėditure rule: Put it in a beautiful bowl and suddenly it's an appetizer.

6. Flowers should look like flowers

No complicated arrangements required.

Buy whatever looks beautiful. Trim the stems. Put them in something unexpected—a pitcher, a glass, a ceramic vessel.

Or skip flowers entirely and use branches, herbs, fruit or whatever else happens to look good that day.

The Ėditure rule: A little undone is usually better.

7. Make a playlist before anyone arrives

Because deciding what to play while six people are already in your kitchen is how you end up listening to something nobody actually chose.

Start easy. Let it get louder as the night goes on.

And no skipping every thirty seconds.

The Ėditure rule: The music should change before you notice it needs to.

8. Put your phone away

Take the picture.

Then put it away.

Not every beautiful table needs to become content before anyone is allowed to touch it.

There is something increasingly luxurious about being somewhere everyone actually is.

The Ėditure rule: Document the table. Experience the dinner.

9. Let people help

Someone wants to open the wine? Let them.

Someone wants to toss the salad? Hand them the bowl.

Someone inevitably ends up washing dishes while everyone else is still talking in the kitchen. This isn't a failure of hosting. It's often the best part.

The Ėditure rule: Participation makes people feel at home.

10. Never rush the end

Dinner is technically over. Nobody has moved. Perfect.

Bring out the chocolate. Open another bottle if the night calls for it. Make coffee. Move from the table to the sofa—or don't.

The best dinner parties have a point when you stop knowing what time it is.

The Ėditure rule: If nobody wants to leave, it worked.

THE TAKEAWAY

The perfect dinner party isn't perfect.

It's generous.

It's a table people want to stay around, food they want another bite of, music playing somewhere in the background, and the feeling that there was nowhere else anyone needed to be.

Use the good plates. Light too many candles. Invite people over.

The dishes can wait until morning.

— The Magazine