Jenifer Ward: How Do You Host?

I confessed earlier this summer what a nervous hostess I am, awkward and often terrified to have people over. Yet I want to be gracious and relaxed about entertaining friends (it’s even an item on my life list). How to go about accomplishing this?

If there is something you want to learn, I’ve discovered it’s best to find someone who does it well and have them show you. To that end, I’m starting a series where I showcase folks who do a wonderful job of hosting parties and gatherings. These are the people I want to emulate and learn from. Some of them are food professionals, many are enthusiastic home cooks who have the knack for creating events that feel special. I want to know how they do it, and I think you’ll enjoy hearing what they have to say.

To kick off the series, I’ve invited my friend Jenifer Ward to share her thoughts on hosting. Jenifer is an academic, a Southerner with strong ideas on cornbread and cast iron skillets, and the woman behind some of the most lovely home meals I’ve had in Seattle. Whether it be German food in her downtown loft, or a Southern spread for New Year’s Day, Jenifer manages to weave food, conversation, and some wicked good humor into a wonderful time. All the photos you see here are from gatherings Jenifer has hosted.

That’s also her in the lower right corner of the family photo above, puffy sleeves and all. How amazing is that table? I want a seat right there.

Without further ado, and with many thanks, I’d like to introduce you to Jenifer Ward.

What is your entertaining background? Did you family entertain a lot when you were growing up, or is it something you’ve developed as an adult?

I grew up around big tables in Arkansas. Some were literal big tables—my dad was one of eight kids, and once they gathered their spouses and offspring to eat, it required a BIG table—and some were variations: my mom’s parents and grandparents lived together and we all jammed around a formica bar in the kitchen to eat. And some were not tables at all, but “dinners on the ground” (church potlucks or wakes in the South were often held outside in the summertime to leverage the breeze). In all cases, though, meals were ritual efforts in which every person had a job. As a small child, mine was to “fill the glasses with ice.” This was the low task on the communal meal preparation totem pole, and one rose to putting pickles and radishes and spring onions on a tray, graduated to slicing tomatoes, and—only when VERY grown up—did one ascend to (Oh, proud moment!) monitoring the frying of chicken.

There was never enough room to move around, and there were always too many people. Large bowls and pans were lifted over heads in passing, towels were shared, little kids were underfoot, pots were juggled and shuttled on and off the too-few stove burners, and yet somehow everyone laughed and told stories and got the food on the table, where we got to the point of it all—breaking bread together.  My own “entertaining” (that sounds so wrong, as if I’m performing) has been informed by the lessons I learned in these kitchens: how to keep everything together in the midst of happy chaos; and that inviting people to my home for food is about inviting PEOPLE to my HOME—because I want the communion as well as the food. I host in a kitchen, not on a stage.

Why do you like to entertain? Where does the pleasure lie for you in the experience?

I love people and I love cooking and I love stories. Entertaining, for me, is the intentional engineering of opportunities where those three loves will intersect.

How would you describe your style when it comes to entertaining?

I am always casual. I am most likely to host potlucks, because I know that my friends love to cook, as well, and because my house isn’t large enough to prepare a sequenced, served dinner for as many people as I would like. But even when I do a bona fide dinner party, with courses and flowers and my Italian majolica, it’s casual. The star is always the conversation, even if supported by “themed” food (come for German food! Come for Southern food!).

How do you plan menus and organize your time? Any pointers?

I tend to do fairly impromptu gatherings, so there’s not a lot of menu-planning or organization. But when I know I’m hosting a larger event or a more planned dinner party, I start by going through my overstuffed binder of scrawled recipes, just to immerse myself in the memories of dishes I’ve loved before. I usually start with one anchor dish—which may or may not be a “main”—and then build around it. As a single person with a demanding career, I don’t often have the luxury of days of cooking ahead, so I choose menus that don’t require it. Still, I steal moments at work during breaks to write out plans of action for myself, just so I don’t get to the big cooking event and find I forgot to shop for groceries or borrow a necessary cooking gadget.

How do you deal with the anxiety of having people in your home? (especially if you have messy shelves, less than pristine kitchen, wrinkled napkins, etc). Is your house in a constant “company state?” Do you hire a housecleaner to make you look good? Do you clean and scrub for weeks ahead of time? Do you let your clutter show and not worry about it?

Honestly? I don’t have this anxiety. I do tend to keep things fairly tidy, which helps, and I do have a monthly visit from a housecleaner for the deep cleaning. But I have books and papers in piles. Who cares? This is who I am. I’m inviting people to come have a meal with ME, not some other person who is more austere than I.

Are there helpful tricks you have for juggling food duties and hosting duties? Is it possible to cook and also get drinks and conversation going? (especially if you are hosting solo).

There is no hosting solo. I really try to make all my guests co-hosts, from giving them jobs in the kitchen to asking them to answer the door.

What do you do about any disasters in the domestic realm: recipes that fail, tables that collapse, conversation that falls flat?

For numbers 1 and 2, I laugh hysterically and order pizza. For number 3?  I’ve never experienced it. This is where it’s enormously helpful that A). I spent the first part of my career getting hesitant college students to participate in class discussions in a foreign language (dinner parties are a breeze!); B). I have smart, funny, and loquacious friends.

Photo by Kairu Yao

Do you like to invite people who know each other, or do you mix your friends up and hope for the best?

I love both. The former is comfortable; the latter is surprising.

Do you struggle with wanting to enjoy your own events and wanting to coordinate them? I’ve hosted parties that were well executed but no fun for me.

I wouldn’t host something I couldn’t enjoy. I am terribly selfish, and I invite people to my home because of those three loves, remember? People, cooking, stories.

If you had one piece of advice for those who aspire to be relaxed hosts, what would it be?

Remember that the food you serve is not the last food your guests will ever eat. If it’s not good or not enough, it was still made with the intention of hospitality and has still provided an occasion for laughter and conversation. And lots of restaurants deliver.

Thank you, Jenifer!