The
Dinner Diaries From hostess books to the perfect seating arrangement, throwing a flawless dinner party is an art. In his new book, Daniel Cappello reveals everything he’s learned
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rowing up, my parents’ dinner parties elicited in me feelings of pure elation, even if just at the thought of the leftovers. From my room, I’d monitor the sinuous harmony of conversational chatter, punctuated by the occasional outburst of laughter, which would eventually diminish to ever-fainter decibel levels until the clink of the deadbolt on the front door. But it wasn’t just about the leftovers. The fact of the matter is that I loved – nay, savored – the details of the dinner party. During the days leading up to my parents’
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dinner parties I would watch from behind the scenes, keeping an almost journalistic eye on everything as it came into place. The prep for the dining room table usually got underway two days in advance: Dad would call me down after homework and we would insert the extra leaf. Then on went the table pads, and my mother would pick a white damask table cloth, iron it, and begin the tug-of-war that usually ensued with my father at the other end of the table until they found the position from which it draped down at the same length on all sides.